Because Philly needs another steakhouse, uberdouche-y prime beef hut Del Frisco’s landed their spaceship in the Packard Building last night.

We realize that the high of being a hot new culinary port would soon level off, but did it have to crash harder than a candy-flip? No one wants to be in the middle of a steakhouse renaissance: Welcome to the suck, Philly. For every Zahav, we’re getting two Don Shula’s. Even Stephen Starr wasn’t content to have only one steakhouse in town. When the fuck did this all happen? And it’s not over yet.

Are we going to wake up tomorrow covered in vomit with torn condom wrappers and orange rinds on the floor, only to be soothed that it was a drug-induced nightmare and not reality? We can only hope.