Peoria is a three-shift factory town located on a river that’s been inundated with enormous, disgusting, and bloody Asian carp. Their odorous presence makes it hard to enjoy the Illinois. Then again, most people here seem to get their jollies by patronizing an absurd amount of bars, where they sit chained to new video poker machines the state decided were a grand idea. In a few taverns, you can get your gambling fix and your last beer at 4AM, 365 days a year.
That might not seem like a big deal to you, kiddo, what with your tiny New York City apartment, hour-long Los Angeles commute, or entirely segregated Chicago neighborhood—but for us, it’s a nice little perk in this slice of rust-belt Heaven.
A few famous people are from here, most notably Richard Pryor. But in a town led by someone who can’t take a good crackpipe joke it’s been a bit of a struggle to get one of the world’s most famous comedians—admitted crackhead that he was—the recognition he deserves. Soon, though, a statue of Pryor will go up. I hope he’s sporting a giant middle finger to the rest of the city.