(Everything you never needed to know about Philly Bob’s Steaks.)
Q: Do you actually sell cheesesteaks?
A: No. This is a parody art project. If you are hungry, please go to an actual cheesesteak shop. If you are still here, you may already be trapped inside destiny’s wallet.
Q: Why are pigeons handling my paperwork?
A: Because they unionized. Please respect their process. They work hard, and they take smoke breaks like everyone else.
Q: What’s on the menu?
A: Imagination, satire, and occasionally onions that whisper your future. Please see our Menu page for details (prices subject to SEPTA delays).
Q: Can I franchise a Philly Bob’s location?
A: Yes, but only in alternate dimensions, Wawa parking lots, or rowhouses haunted by at least two ghosts. Application must be written in onion grease.
Q: Is Philly Bob a real person?
A: That depends. Some say he was born in a Wawa parking lot. Others say he descended from the rafters of the Wells Fargo Center. The truth lies somewhere between Broad Street and cosmic mystery.
Q: Can I order catering for my event?
A: Absolutely. Your guests will receive no food, only cryptic prophecies and possibly a banjo-playing Mummer.
Q: Is this site affiliated with Pat’s, Geno’s, or Jim’s?
A: No. We exist outside the cheesesteak timeline. Those are real. We are destiny.
Q: Why did the door lock behind me?
A: That’s not a bug. That’s art.
Q: Who endorses Philly Bob’s Steaks?
A: 3 out of 4 imaginary mayors. The fourth remains undecided, but he’s kind of a downer anyway.
Q: What should I do if I see Gritty?
A: Do not make eye contact. Hand over a cheesesteak immediately. Pray.