Philly’s satisfaction score is bleak… but hey, at least we beat Baltimore | Weekly Report Card

A new Washington Post analysis of federal crash data found that Philadelphia’s Broad Street ranks among the deadliest roads in the country for pedestrians — 10 people killed between 2021 and 2023 on just a two-mile stretch, putting it in the same conversation as Westheimer in Houston and Central Avenue in Albuquerque.

And it tracks: Broad is basically a case study in how to build a road that chews up people. Multiple wide lanes, long gaps between safe crossings, cars treating the green lights like drag-race starters — all running through neighborhoods where plenty of people are walking because they don’t have another choice. It’s the exact pattern the Post found nationwide: big, fast arterials cutting through poorer, Black and brown communities and turning everyday errands into real risks.

What’s bleak is how unsurprising it feels. Everyone in Philly already knows Broad can be a free-for-all — you take your life in your hands just trying to cross for a slice. Seeing it land on a national “deadliest roads” list isn’t shocking so much as it is depressing validation.

A new national survey from Gensler ranking how satisfied residents are with their cities has Philly sitting at 26th out of 27 — above only Baltimore, which feels like being second-to-last in the NFL standings but insisting “strength of schedule” is to blame. Just 58.7% of Philadelphians said they’re satisfied with living here, while places like San Antonio (78%), San Diego (76%), and Raleigh (76%) apparently float through life with working transit, nonchaotic politics, and trash pickups that happen when they say they will.

Meanwhile, Philly’s in the basement with Portland, Miami, Detroit, San Francisco, and Seattle.

Is the number surprising? Not really. We complain. Constantly. It’s our cardio. But the funny thing about Philly is that the dissatisfaction doesn’t make people leave; it just makes them yell about the city louder while defending it even harder to outsiders.

Call it the Philly Paradox: We’re miserable — and we love it here.

Some people tailgate. Ed Callahan serves.

The 79-year-old Navy vet from Mayfair — who went to his first Eagles game in 1954 — was named Eagles’ Fan of the Year and is now up for the entire NFL title. And honestly? Give the man the trophy already. He’s spent the past six years turning his tailgate into a fundraising machine for the Eagles Autism Foundation, pulling in more than $400,000 since 2019, including $70,000 this year alone, NBC Philadelphia reported.

But the best part is that Ed is exactly the kind of fan Philly loves: loud in his loyalty, quiet about the impact, and somehow the unofficial ambassador for visiting Birds fans. People fly in from England just to tailgate with him — and he still makes sure they have food, a spot to stand, and someone to talk Birds with.

He’s the rare person everyone at the Linc seems to know, and the even rarer kind that everyone agrees deserves the honor, proving Philly’s beating heart is a 79-year-old guy in a kelly green jersey making strangers feel at home in a parking lot.

Vote for him or the football gods will absolutely judge you.

Michelin finally rolled into Philly this week, crowned three one-star restaurants — Friday Saturday Sunday, Provenance, and Her Place — and honestly? Those teams earned every second of celebration, and the city was rightly buzzing watching them take the stage at the Kimmel. Flowers all around.

But aside from the stars, things were… very Michelin-in-a-new-city. The inspectors handed out 31 other nods, and some of the choices made it feel like they skimmed the syllabus. Three cheesesteak spots but barely any of the Vietnamese, Cambodian, Indonesian, or Chinatown restaurants that actually help define Philly dining? Dalessandro’s but not John’s Roast Pork? Hiroki but not Ogawa? No Mawn? No Kalaya star? Mexican spots mostly MIA? At a certain point it starts to feel less like a curated list and more like a group project where someone forgot their homework.

Credit where it’s due: The love for Pietramala (plus the Green Star, even if it was literally made of plastic) was spot on, and the picks for FSS, Provenance, and Her Place show Michelin can recognize Philly originality when they see it. But if you’re going to declare yourself the official judge of our food scene, you’ve got to spend time in the places where the best cooking happens — and that’s not always the spots that make national lists.

Montgomery County is straight-up bribing teens to quit vaping — and honestly, go off. The new program pays kids $100 if they turn in their vape and complete a 10-week virtual cessation course. It’s basically a cash-for-lungs exchange, and in 2025, that feels about right.

Parents say kids pass vapes around “like gum,” and anyone who’s walked past a school bus lately knows she’s not exaggerating. One Jenkintown mom told Fox29 she tried counseling and life coaching with her son; nothing stuck until this program actually met teens where they are — short sessions, no lectures, no “Just Say No” energy.

Local data claim youth vaping is down, but Montco clearly isn’t buying it. If $100 gets even a few kids to put the mango ice down, great. The next buyback starts in December, and somewhere a giant group chat is already debating whether quitting nicotine is worth the payout.

Every few months, Pennsylvanians must confront something that shakes us to our core. This week, that honor goes to Boscov’s, which unveiled what might be the most offensively Pennsylvania outfit in recorded history: matching camouflage tracksuits, billed (with a straight face) as “Rustic Romance.”

It’s the impossible hybrid no one asked for: rural PA camo (church, Walmart, weddings, yes weddings) fused with Philly’s beloved matching sweat suit culture (Wawa runs, Acme aisles, every outdoor event ever). And seeing them side by side feels… unholy. We are a camo or tracksuit state. Combining them is like making scrapple tiramisu — technically possible, morally dubious.

And yet, Jalen Hurts did wear full camo to Green Bay, which means these sets are now one stylish quarterback away from becoming a statewide craze.

It’s the name that tanks the grade. Rustic Romance? Incredible. Our columnist Stephanie Farr put it best — nothing says passion like telling your partner, “I want you to look more like foliage.”

A couple in Ocean County just won $3 million on a scratch-off … six months after winning $1 million on another scratch-off, and the New Jersey Lottery says the odds of pulling this off are 1 in two trillion, reported NBC Philadelphia. For comparison, you’re 1.2 million times more likely to be hit by a meteorite, which honestly feels about right for Philly. New Jersey apparently gets the miracles.

The couple — who remain anonymous because they’re not insane — say this all happened during their version of “Netflix and chill,” which is scratching lottery tickets after the kids go to bed. Extremely suburban, extremely wholesome, extremely “oh come on” to the rest of us.

The best part? When the husband suspected the second ticket might be a winner, he handed it to his wife. She looked at it, clutched it to her chest, screamed, and then started laughing — a reaction reserved for life-changing news and maybe the Eagles winning the NFC Championship.

Good for them, genuinely. But also: If any Philly couple tried this, the Exxon would be out of winners, the scanner would be broken, and the meteorite would hit Broad Street instead.

South Philly’s favorite guerrilla artist, Rose Luardo, has done it again. After gifting the city the “Boob Garden” and the “Rave Coffin,” she’s now unleashed “Crab Couch” — a regular sofa transformed (via papier-mâché, red paint, and pure chaos energy) into a giant crustacean with claws, side-eye, and a cigarette the size of a toddler.

She wheeled it — on a skateboard, obviously — to that forever-vacant triangle lot at Washington, Passyunk, and Eighth, aka her unofficial outdoor gallery. Within days, neighbors had already repaired a broken claw with a drill. The cigarette disappeared immediately, becoming the most-Philly loosie in history.

It’s weird, joyful, and exactly the kind of unhinged public art this city deserves. Honestly, as our columnist Stephanie Farr argues, someone should just give Luardo the deed to that lot. She’s doing more with it than anyone else.