Joey Sweeney reporting: For the last couple of weeks, Philebrity ‚Äî and myself in particular ‚Äî have had to deal with the strange non-glory of “breaking” the Geno’s Steaks/Speak English Or Die story. For those of you that might be wondering, and also largely because we’re sick of the story already, I thought it might be helpful to jettison the issue (on this site, at least) with some parting words regarding South Philly’s cleanest, tastiest and most mutedly (and sometimes not so mutedly) racist cheesesteak.

…After the jump.

For one, the story isn’t much of a story in that these days, it’s just a self-powered noise machine, a football for pundits to throw around and delude themselves into thinking that anyone gives a fuck. It’s not advancing much: As those of you who listened to Vento on WHYY’s Radio Times yesterday can attest, Vento holds fast to his xenophobic beliefs, wrapping them cozily in patriotism and false “sympathy” for today’s immigrant classes. Not that Mr. Vento himself has the English vocabulary to characterize even his own opinions with that kind of clarity. He’d probably be the first to tell you just he’s not a particularly enlightened guy. (Did anyone else seem to hear him repeatedly say “Ingish” when he meant “English” on the show yesterday?)
No matter. For the record, here’s why I opened up the can of worms in the first place: I’ve been a loyal Geno’s customer for longer than I can remember. Coming from a former “meat” family ‚Äî my grandfather drove a truck with all kinds of rank meat in it for years and as a result, we’re all now chronic meatsniffers ‚Äî Pat’s has always struck me as nasty and gristly and, though great once in a while, largely unpredictable. So for the longest time, I chose the Geno’s side of the great, iconic Philadelphia Cheestseak Debate. Pat’s, I have long surmised, is for rubes and tourists.
But in the years since 9/11, I have grown steadily more and more uncomfortable with Geno’s visual representation. For one, using the image of Daniel Faulkner to sell cheesesteaks is unseemly to say the least. For those who’ve never been, a large plaque of Faulkner is placed at the apex of the triangular property Geno’s occupies. It announces to all who inhabit the intersection of Ninth and Passyunk, “We’re the only cheesesteak place on this corner that DOES NOT SUPPORT COP KILLERS.” Whatever, Mr. Alarmist. That simpleton logic has only grown in recent years. Who, I ask you, puts the words “Freedom Fries” on their menu in 2006 and expects to be taken seriously? Joe Vento, that’s who. Add in the entire wall dedicated to police ephemera from around the globe, and you start to wonder: Does this guy have a matching collection of Time Life World War II books to go with it?
A picture begins to emerge, and you don’t have to be a hifalutin’ shrink to see it: Joe Vento has fetishized authority. And worked it into his business plan. And in doing so, he’s rejected his own Italian and Philadelphian maverick spirit and become nothing more than a tool of the Man.
Sir, if i may address you directly: You’ve forgotten where you came from. And for a guy who’s lived in the same neighborhood his entire life, that must make you pretty fucking dumb. I hope you can find your way back, but I have my doubts. But if you need a roadmap, perhaps you should click the link below and hear the bullshit that comes out of your mouth. I did, and it was friggin’ shocking.
WHYY: Joe Vento On Radio Times
Previously: That Ellis Island Sound

This entry was posted on Wednesday, June 7th, 2006 at 12:15 pm.