Wing Bowl Interpreted

Preview Piece :

So there's an event coming up on Friday of epic proportions. One in which giant Buddha-bellied fat men display their god-like prowess FUCK
THAT, THEY ARE GODS before an adoring public. Attending in an endless stream are their concubines, scantily clad voluptuous females who have sworn themselves to these deities. Don't even try to dissuade them, for besides drawing omnipotent wrath upon yourself, you'd be wasting your time. Mothers from all across the land raise their daughters with one intention, hopeful that one day their daughters can count themselves amongst the attendants of the bulbous ones, and hence, bring infinite blessings upon their household and lineage for generations to come. If you are so inclined, you may fare better with those rejected by the all powerful lords who descend from the heavens to momentarily suffer our presence. BUT BE QUICK, for these lasses will be bent on suicide post-haste. If you can keep them from sharp objects for awhile, you may just be able to convince them to live out a life of shame.

As for our rotund deities,we can only hope for a brief encounter, while the sick
and the elderly, and babies alike are anointed by sausage fingers
dripping of orange/red ambrosia. Unprepared devotees have wiped this manna from their foreheads or cheeks to sample it, only to have their
minds wracked by 1,000 dreams and nightmares as they get a glimpse of the wisdom locked away in each of god's skulls. Waking upon the
ground disheveled and confused, they learn the audacity of
their mistake, for it is only deeply yearning bodhisattvas that
can hope to attain the enlightened status of the Buddhas. Only they can
benefit, if fortune provides them with a bowl of some of their
leftover manna. But this is never easy, for the trip down from the
heavens makes the all-powerful beings hungry beyond all imagining.
WATCH OUT! They have been known to eat careless mortals who venture
too close and become hypnotized by the glowing aura around them, as
well as the undulation of sea waves of skin powered by barely
discernable piston-like jaws. Bones and that
pervasive sauce- sauce of pungent odor and neon glow- will be all
that's left. But whether drinking of it or snorting it, it will have
an effect 100 times greater then that of the most powerful yopo. Be
ready to swim through a putrid permeating sea of all you've ever done,
all you've come to regret. At the very least you could wake upon the floor choking on
your own vomit, but you could also unravel into a state of permanent
insanity having come so close to a vision of perfection only to see it
slip away.

Vomiting. That is always the highlight of the most blessed occasion
that is WingBowl. For that is how the gods add to their retinue of
concubines. Covered in sacred grissom, each chosen female loses
herself to the ecstasy of the moment, and if still conscious of her
previous life, takes one last look upon her parents before leaving for
the celestial palace.

Or rather than some Banquet of the Chestnuts type vomiting display(I'm
not explaining that one), perhaps it would be better off if WingBowl
ended in a way similar to that 'Lardass' story in the movie, Stand By
Me. The 'Wingettes' and assorted strippers, and wannabe wingettes
could be kept in close proximity while the contestants gorge
themselves, and upon the first wave of eruptuous contestant vomiting,
their beaming smiles become baleful before their faces, billowed by bile,
let forth a tirade to sail through the air. Besmirched competitors,
vomit forth anew, causing a raucous procession, a domino effect of
inspired upchucking all throughout the Wachovia Center, while the spectators gorge
themselves, screaming EAT!EAT!EAT!, the Bacchanalian chant
voiced through a mouthful of chicken, their faces stained a radiant
red. But all this talk of fat bastards overlooks the most unlikely
competitor, and the one I'll be rooting for (somewhere from the back
of my subconscious), Sonya "Black Widow" Thomas.

At 105lbs she looks
more likely to be eaten by one of her competitors than to actually win
the competition. But, like Nibbler from Futurama, she is capable of devouring everything in sight.
IFOCE (International Federation of Competitive
Eating) 2003 Rookie of the Year, she's looking to get some revenge
against reigning WingBowl champion Joey Chestnut who beat her in a
recent waffle eating competition. Thomas did not participate in last
year's Wingbowl, which was dubbed a "virgin" competition, as all
previous competitors were barred from competing, including Bill 'El
Wingador' Simmons, who beat Thomas in 2005 after placing as 2nd runner
up in 2004 to her then record breaking intake of 167 wings(Joey
Chestnut broke that record last year by eating 172 wings in 30
minutes). As former Champ 'El Wingador' has retired, host WIP has once
again changed the format of the competition in the hopes of increasing
the entertainment value (though it consistently sells out) as well as
producing another local champ. This years' contest, dubbed as
"Philadelphia Against The World", will see five competitive eaters from
the IFOCE competing against 20 local contestants, who made it through
a grueling qualification process, which included eating "stunts"
dreamed up by 610-WIP. It's doubtful that any of these mere mortals
will step up to the likes of Thomas or Chestnut, who both have their
stomachs set on dethroning competitive eating's' king, Takeru "The
Tsunami" Kobayashi, in the upcoming Nathan's Famous hotdog eating
competition(a wing competition is apparantly beneath the reigning king
of competitive eating). I mean, how can you fuck with a girl who once
ate 8.1 lbs of vienna sausage in 10 minutes or a guy who ate 5.5 lbs
of pork in a 12 minute span. Thomas, for instance, eats only one meal
a day while training. Like a python she gorges herself in one sitting,
devouring several lbs of fast food in a couple of hours.

Go to bed early Thursday night, as Wingbowl festivities start bright
and early Friday morning, with the parking lot opening at 4a.m.(PREGAME
IT!), doors opening at 5a.m., the action starting at 6a.m., and all the
days' events sadly coming to a close at 9a.m. with the announcement of a
new champion! One only wonders how all those lovely strippers will
make it through the day after surely being taxed from the previous
night's work. I know I won't be in work – I'll probably be out the
next few days with the concussion I'm about to sustain from slamming
my head into the table, trying to rid myself of all this useless
fucking information.


WINGBOWL 15 Feb. 2,2007
Philadelphia Against the World
Live Coverage Provided by 610-WIP
6am
Wachovia Center

Photo Credits:
1st photo by Flickr user Operators are standing by
2nd photo by Flickr user Floundies
3rd photo from Wikipedia
4th photo from Wikipedia