Stella Blue Coffee Golden Mug Giveaway | Enter to Win One of 10 PS5s LEARN MORE

It's Time To Pray At The Altar Of Beer Batter And Baptize Myself In Tarter Sauce: I'm Going To Try And Rank FIFTY Fish Frys All Over The Country This Lent

Davey Gravy. Unsplash Images.

If you're anything like me then Fish Fry season is one of your favorite times of year. For me, it has nothing to do with god or church and everything to do with grease and mercury. Fry me up some delicious sea chicken, throw some slaw on the side, and let's clog our arteries in the name of the lord.

Last year I tried 24 different fish frys in the Cleveland area and updated my power rankings every Saturday. One Friday I ate at FOUR fish frys. Do you know how much damage all that mercury does to your body?

Giphy Images.

On the last two Fridays I was physically ill after eating and I have not touched a piece of delicious beer battered fish since. But you know what? I couldn't be more excited to jump back in the deep end and do it all over again.

I know what you're thinking. "Will, how different can these fish frys possibly be?!"

Each one is unique like a delicate snowflake or the fingerprint of an old Polish woman making pierogis without washing her hands. I mean look at this fucking guy…where else could you find a guy like this but a church fish fry? 

Where else can you get a polka show while you develop coronary artery disease?

Or have an 80 year old one-man band sing Proud To Be An American to you and like 11 of your closest friends…

This year Im pitting Cleveland against other cities too. I'm planning on Detroit, Toledo, Chicago, Kenosha, Green Bay, Pittsburgh, and New York. But if you have another city that I need to add to the list or a fish fry that has to be showcased tweet me or send me an email will.burge@barstoolsports.com. 

For some reason Dave Portnoy pays me to do this stupid shit so I'm willing to go wherever. The good part for him, however, is that I'll probably drop dead before this lent is over. I'm sure my videos will do better posthumously. People never respect the great artists until they're gone.