The American Douchebag’s Guide to America: Pittsburgh

Pittsburgh n’at


Pittsburgh was settled in a valley where the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers meet to form the Ohio. This area was originally settled by groups of Hopewell and Adena Indians, along with many others who didn’t steal their names from buildings on OSU-Newark’s campus including Iroquis and Shawnee. During the 1750s, The French forced the British out of the fort they built there, and built Fort Duquesne. However, the French eventually did what the French do best, and  let the British force them out and built Fort Pitt in Duquesne’s place.

Over the next century, Pittsburgh became a large steel producing town. This became important during the Civil War because of the production of weapons. By 1911 Pittsburgh was producing up to half of the nation’s steel. However, over the years the steel mills closed, leaving Pittsburgh a polluted shell of its formal self.

Now a days, However, Pittsburgh has been making a small comeback. During the late 2000s recession, Pittsburgh was adding jobs and their property value was rising. Way to make the rest of the country look bad, Pittsburgh.

Initial Thoughts

For the initial thoughts, you really need to know what it’s like to drive into Pittsburgh, particularly through the Fort Pitt tunnels. You enter the tunnels from one side of a mountain, nothing but concrete, other cars and your fear of cramped spaces around you. And the more you reach the other side, the easier it is for you to breathe. And when you finally come out the other side, this is what you see:

So, seeing as though that was the image I saw when I entered Pittsburgh, these were my initial thoughts:

“Wow! I’m back! And look at that view! There’s The Point, and over there is The US Steel building. Oh, and that stadium across the river is the one Bane blew up in The Dark Knight Rises. This place has mad History all over it. You better be ready for me, Pittsburgh, cause I’m coming for you harder than if I could ejaculate cinderblocks.”


Usually when I’m in Pittsburgh, I stay in the house I grew up in, but I once stayed in a hotel, so I’ll talk about both.

My old house is incredibly exclusive. You either have to be related to the current residents or at least close friends to them. Unfortunately, this exclusivity does not translate into high class. It was cramped. I slept on a futon. Most of the outlets were outdated and didn’t have the third hole. But on the bright side, the meals were free and they had free wifi. I wish that could make me forget about the insults thrown at me by the staff there, but it cannot. My blog does entertain people, dad. You wouldn’t know because you don’t read it. I AM DOING THINGS WITH MY LIFE! REALLY IMPORTANT THINGS THAT WILL MAKE ME A RESPECTABLE AUTHOR! GET OFF MY BACK!!!

The hotel I stayed in back in 2009 was much schmaltzier than my old house. Here’s a pic that will give you a good idea of how awesome it was.

Get out of the way, Aaron!

If you look at the lower left corner, you’ll notice the armrest of our couch. Then if you look to the right of Aaron, who is the guy clearly ruining this picture, you’ll see the TV. If you look further in the background, you’ll notice that past the barrier are out beds. Yes. Our TV could swivel so that you could either sit on the couch OR lay on the bed and watch it. There is a god, and he wants us to be happy.


Other than the aforementioned stadium that Bane destroyed, Pittsburgh has a lot of attractions for different members of the family. Kennywood is Pittsburgh’s amusement park and has some of the most historic and exciting rides in the country. Sandcastle is their waterpark, which is pretty run of the mill. You know, water slides and stuff. Pittsburgh is also home to the national aviary, which is essentially one of the more boring parts of normal zoos, just in its own location. If you like heights, go up the famous Pittsburgh Incline and look out at Pittsburgh from the best view in the city. If you’re into Hogwartsian style buildings, go to the Cathedral of learning at the University of Pittsburgh. Only a couple of blocks away is Pittsburgh’s museum of modern art. And last but not least, for you alcoholics, you will want to head over to Station Square and the Southside, where you will find some booze.

Looking down the Pittsburgh Incline

Pittsburgh Skyline from the Incline

University of Pittsburgh’s Cathedral of Learning

Well, that’s kind of fucked up, University of Pittsburgh.



There is a few foods that are Pittsburgh specific: gravy on French fries, city chicken (which isn’t actually chicken because Pittsburgers are weird), but the quintessential Pittsburgh food is, without a doubt, a Primanti Brother’s sandwich.

For those of you who don’t know, a Primanti Brother’s sandwich is what happens when the cook loses his shit and starts throwing all the food onto a plate with his hands. A normal Primanti’s sandwich starts off normally with some meat and some cheese, maybe even a couple slices of tomato. But then the meal makes a sharp left and starts driving erratically down crazy street. The sandwich also has French fries and coleslaw piled on, and the cook only cuts one slice of bread in half.  I didn’t take a picture of my sandwich because I am not an annoying girl on your Facebook homepage, but here is an image from Primanti’s website:

My sandwich was a turkey and cheese, minus the tomato. After I did my best to tear through the meat, fries, and full slice of bread, I finally got to take a bite. It was amazing. The coleslaw was sweet, yet tangy. The turkey and cheese was savory and warm enough to be comforting on a cold day. The fries in all their starchy goodness acted as a balance between the coleslaw and the turkey. Normally, the coleslaw would over power the turkey, but the fries muted the coleslaw’s flavor and helped bring out the turkey and cheese favors. By the end, I wasn’t eating a sandwich so much as a ball of delicious, greasy goodness. Why Primanti’s has not expanded to other parts of the country is a mystery to me.


Yeungling. If you’re in Pittsburgh and you like beer, that is what you have to drink. I mean, sure, Pittsburgh has other beers: Rolling Rock, Iron City Beer, probably others.  Yeungling, however,  is the best. However, If you want to go against my always right opinions, then go ahead and drink an Iron City (Rolling Rock is now a national brand, so it doesn’t count). If you do choose Iron City, then you need to either drink it in their iron bottle or in a regular can. The iron can changes the flavor of the beer, but I cannot remember which one tastes better. But it’s not like it matters anyway; you aren’t even considering drinking Yeungling like I suggested, so why would you take my Iron City beverage container advice. Seriously, the whole point of a travel blog is to listen to my experiences and heed my advice. But whatever. Don’t listen to me, but don’t come crying to me when you realize that Iron City or Rolling Rock isn’t the greatest beer ever, you ungrateful bastards.


The first thing you need to understand about Pittsburgers is that they have their own accent. Well, actually, it’s not so much an accent as it is a dialect. If I were to describe it, I’d say that it’s somewhere between Midwesterner and Appalachian Hills people. Watch the first few minutes of this video to get an idea of what Pittsburghese sounds like:

Having introduced Yinz to how people talk in an around dahntahn Pittsburgh, let’s talk about the locals n’at.

The people there, are awesome. Granted, I know people there, and I got to hang out with them, but still, they’re amazing. For instance, here are my friends Julian and Danielle enjoying a nice dinner with me in Forest Hills:

They were pretty excited to see me.

Then here’s Dan Miller at the Primanti’s after we got done watching The Dark Knight Rises. He was pretty excited to see me:

-totally what Dan said

Then of course I got to hang out with the Newlyweds Julie and Mark Lechliter and their gang of crazy friends. I’ll give you a hint of how this played out.

Minigan- Julie!!!!


Julie- Oh Jesus…

Minigan-Ha ha! No, it’s Minigan!  I know, I know, my hair has gotten long, and I do look miraculous, but it’s just me. Plain old Minigan Blackwood: Doctor of Awesome.

Julie- No, Minigan, I know who you are. I’m just surprised to see you back here after they told you not to come back after that last time.

Minigan- Laws don’t apply to me, baby. You should know that. And besides, I left the Slappin’ Dick Machine with my friend Della, so it’s totally cool that I’m here to celebrate your Birthday!

Julie- Well, as long as you’ve found someone that’s willing to keep after it and you didn’t bring it back here…

Minigan- Oh yeah, Della totally has it under control. We’re mentally linked, so it will probably listen to her.


Mark- [rushes up to Julie, not noticing Minigan] Julie, we need to get out of here, now. Apparently Minigan found out that we’re going to be here tonight and [now noticing Minigan] Holy Shit! Minigan! How did they let you back in PA?!

Minigan- “Let” isn’t the right word. It was more like I “forced” my way back into Pennsylvania.

Julie- We aren’t going to be arrested by talking to you right now, are we?

Minigan- Not unless you call the cops.

Mark- And if we do call the cops?

Minigan- if you do call the cops, I’ll just show them the proof that you smuggled me into PA.

Mark- What proof do you have?!

Minigan- When have I ever let that stop me before? [throws his hands up defensively] But look, I’m not here to send anyone to prison this time. All I want to do is Party with you guys for Julie’s birthday. Now, let’s do some shots. [runs off to find a bartender]

Julie-[calling after Minigan] Wait, Minigan! I can’t drink; I’m pregnant!

[Minigan came back with a tray of shots, the waitress he took the shots from silently weeping into her hands.]

Minigan- I got us the drinks! Julie, the orange juice is for you because you’re on your period or whatever you said.

Julie- Thanks, I guess…

Minigan- To Julie for her birthday, and for both of you wonderful bastards for getting married![they each do a shot. Minigan does two.]

Mark- [once his face returned to normal after the shot] so how did you get kicked out of PA, Minigan?

Minigan- Well, I created a machine that had a spinning wheel of dildos that  started trying to kill people. You know, it was a whole thing. I’ve put that behind me. Like a month behind me.

Slappin’ Dick- Machine- [comes in looking like a Wall-E with a hat of dildos, waving its newly attached robotic arms frantically and hitting people as it passed. It’s voice came from a Speak and Say attached to its backside. It yells] Minigan! Della is the worst human ever. All she does is insult everyone and throw things at me. It’s horrible.

Minigan- Yeah, she’s an awful, awful person.

Mark and Julie- [simultaneously] What’s wrong with people in Ohio?

Minigan- It’s really just Della. She is just a terrible person. [Mark and Julie say nothing, just look at each other. Minigan turns to the Slappin’ Dick-Machine and says] OK, SDM, which is what I’m going to call you for now on. I’ll let you stay with me and not with Della on two conditions: You cannot try to kill all humans and you must do everything I say. Do you understand?

SDM- I understand. What do you need, master?

Minigan- First, I like the whole “master” thing. Keep up with that. Secondly, go get me a drink.

SDM- Yes, Master. [SDM rolls off, attacks a waitress holding a beer and grabs it before she drops it, and rushes back to me] Here you are, Master.

Minigan-[takes the drink turns to Julie and Mark and says] And that’s how you train your murderbot.

And then we all partied and had a great time.

Overall Atmosphere

Now, I may be biased since I grew up in that city, but the atmosphere of the ‘Burgh is definitely welcoming, and friendly. Even though all of the people I talked to were people that I have known most of my life, the people there act like they’ve always known you. It is, simply put, an amazing  city.


Minigan Blackwood’s Booze Fueled, Clothing Prohibited, Law Breaking, Church Burning, Super Amazing Vacation

Well, guys and guyettes, if you’re reading this, then I am no longer with you. Unfortunately, it is time that I face my eternal punishment, by which I mean that I am back at work. But instead of morning for me, why don’t you read about the crazy shenanigans I got into while I didn’t have to worry about work.
-I get home from work with a bunch of supplies for this week’s misdeeds. Wire cutters, a car battery, an electric motor, 2 car wheels, ten oversized, floppy dildos of various colors. This vacation’s “Slappin’ Dick-Machine” is gonna be the greatest.
-I finish yelling at my mom to mind her own damn business after she asked me why I had a car battery and a large paper bag with floppy dildos popping out of the top. I then prepare for bed. For, adventures wait in the afternoon, and I shall need my energy.
-I fling myself out of bed, and instantly, I’m naked. That must’ve been because I went to sleep naked. I choose not to put on clothes, as the world should have the chance to see me in all my not well endowed glory. I go to the garage with my morning purchases when I remember that building a machine that has dicks spinning on it could end much more horribly when I’m naked, so I return to my room to put on some clothes.
-Construction of the “Slappin’ Dick-Machine” is complete. Now to turn it on…
-The “Slappin Dick Machine” Races forward, out of my garage, and down the street, the dildos whirling around from a horizontal wheel extending from above the engine. It looks like the gayest helicopter ever. None the less, I chase after it.
-The “Slappin’ Dick-Machine” has attacked many neighborhood children, probably traumatizing them for life. It has apparently gained sentience, and is aiming to destroy all humans the only way it knows: By slapping them with dicks. Just call me Dr. Frankenstein (I don’t know how that story goes). But now I need to go buy an axe.
-After a couple hours of procrastinating (Damn you Memebase!) I finally make to Home Depot to buy an axe. While I’m there, I also look at shelving, because I really need to utilize my closet space better. When I get back home, I realize that I forgot why I bought the axe. I decide that it must be in preparation for the zombie apocalypse, and put it with my other weapons.
-Fuck! Family Guy’s on!!!!
-Family Guy is interrupted by the news with a special report about a mysterious robot that is slapping people with floppy dildos. I laugh, remembering that it is my robot with floppy dildos. I would go to stop it like I planned, but it looks like the cops are taking good care of the situation (They were also getting slapped by some dick).
-The TV is nothing but shitty shows and the news talking about my “Slappin’ Dick-Machine.” Boring. I decide to take a shower and go to bed. Instead, I spend my time on Memebase. Damn that Memebase.
5:30 AM
-I go to bed.
-I wake up, completely naked, and decide to do some stretching on the roof. No, I did not put on clothes. I feel they’re restricting.
-The police arrive. I begin to throw cans of spray paint at them. I don’t know why they’re on the roof, but I decide to not question a good thing.
-I’m in a jail cell with a big guy who calls himself “Toothy Joe.” I’m being charged with several counts of lewd conduct and assaulting a police officer. I’m pretty sure I left one blind when I sprayed his eyes with paint, and another I severely burned when I realized that there was also a convenient grill lighter on the roof as well.
-I’m getting bored with the whole “Jail cell” and “Creepy sexual advance by Toothy Joe” thing, so I break out by picking the lock. Damn am I awesome.
-I make it back to my house without any cops chasing me. Their resources must be stretched pretty thin because of that “Slappin’ Dick-Machine.” And once again, Past me is looking out for Present me. I then grab a couple of beers, put on my hatin’ hat, and begin to write the blog post “Worst Advertisements Currently on TV.”

I “Heart” nothing when I’m wearing that hat.

5:02PM! I read all the new articles, watched the video, and wished I had a job there instead of that stupid place I currently work.
-After desperately trying to get the Cracked columnists to notice me on Twitter, I finally get started on my blog- By which I mean, I pick out the videos I will make fun of.
-FOOD. I make chicken on the grill and carrots. Delicious.


-I take my drinking up to the next level. Here are my thoughts:

I dunno why we gotta keep these bitches alive. I don’t mean women, I mean men women who are bitches and r on life support. What?! You think you better than me cause they get to lay around all day and not be called “a drain on society?!” fuck’em! They don’t know me none! I’ll kick a garden’s worth of vegetables!

I then spend the next several hours drunkenly plotting how I’m going to preemptively strike the people on life support before they take over the world.
2:00AM… Maybe…
-I go to bed. That is to say, I passed out on my couch
-I wake up with a killer hangover and my dog licking my face. I drink several cups of water, take a couple of ibuprofen, and curl up into a tiny ball under my bed.
-Once my hangover has passed completely, I realize that I’m hungry. Since I’ve never had one of those Taco Bell tacos with the Dorito shell, I decide to go get one of those.
-I make it back to my house, my saliva glands working overtime, and rush inside to eat the four Doritos Locos Tacos I bought.
-I finish the first one, and almost instantly an overwhelming sense of euphoria. Everything seems so much more vivid than ever before.
-I’ve eaten the second. I now see colors that I never knew existed. A bunch of objects in my house begin to come alive.
-The third one’s gone. It took me longer to eat because I had to catch it. We laughed merrily as I chased it around my house, and once I caught it, all the house hold objects began to sing a song about how it’s ok to eat your friends. Looking back on it, that was a little disturbing.
-I remember eating the last one (after it was done singing a song to me), but as I took the last bite, everything went black.
-I wake up covered in orange dust. Everything in my room is destroyed, and half of them look like someone was chewing on them. My computer, which was in the living room and away from my possible rage, is on. I bathe the orange powder off of me, and then look to see what I was looking at while I was blacked out. The date on my compute says Thursday. Thursday? But the last thing I remember was on Tuesday. Holy shit.
-I get on facebook and see that I have 20 notifications. Dear god. The first one I click on was from my friend Della. It is a video from a local news station, and her comment was, “Minigan, Please tell me this wasn’t you.”
-Fuck. That was me alright. The video was about eight minutes of pure insanity. It was a special report about a man covered in Dorito cheese powder breaking into a hospital with a club and the sentient robot with a wheel of dildos that had been terrorizing the community the past couple of days. The man(IE, me), who was wearing a red and white tablecloth as a cape (and nothing else) and had his hair sticking out from the sides of his head, was screaming “Death to the vegetables! The god of the Doritos Locos Tacos demands it!” While the robot repeated, “Death to all humans!” through a Speak and Say. Other than my phrase, I spoke mostly in tongues.
The robot and I fought our way to the comatose ward, and then I proceeded to dropkick every life support machine I saw. At one point, the robot slapped a man on his face with one of its floppy dildos, and the man woke up. I then screamed, “See! These bastards are just faking it!” and then I punched him in his chest. The news report didn’t say, but I might have killed that guy. The video ends with me and the robot fleeing the hospital while stealing a heart rate monitor and a defibrillator.
My comment back to Della is, “Lol that guy sure does look like me! Ha ha ha ha ha ha! No that wasn’t me! I totes don’t have anything againt people who are brain dead, and I absolutely don’t belive that they are plotting to kill all of us by chasing us down on their beds. K bai!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
After pacing in my living room for a few minutes, trying to figure out how I was going to awesome my way out of this one, I opened the door to my garage. My “Slappin’ Dick-Machine” is sitting at the bottom step and says to me in its monotone Speak and Say voice, “Who do we attack next, Master?” I turn off the robot, and notice a few surprising additions to its body. Somehow, it acquired a solar panel, the Speak and Say, a camera, and two highly dexterous robotic arms. and decide it’s best for me to lay low for the rest of the day. I check the rest of my facebook notifications (Every single one of them is about the news report) and I carefully lie about how I took my dog to a dog park yesterday. I then turn off my computer and turn on the news, as to see if they have narrowed me down as a lead. I resolve that it is in my best interest to not leave the house until the heat dies down.
12:00 Noon
-The heat hasn’t died down, so I decide that it would probably be best if I went to Pennsylvania for the weekend. I pack up Tess, my stuff, Tess’s food, and the “Slappin’ Dick Machine” into my car, and make a mad dash for the PA border.
-I make it there to find my older sister cleaning out the attic. We spend the next eight hours doing this, as well as most of Saturday. Here is some of the cool stuff we found:
This gumball machine

I filled it with skittles, because you know how I do.

A creepy old rocking horse
A ceramic penis my mom got for her wedding shower. Weird.
A shit ton of our old toys
And a series of historically significant newspapers. Like from Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination:

The Apollo 11 launch:

VE day:

The deaths of Martin Luther King and FDR:

As well as others I didn’t take pictures of.
-I have to wake up so that I can get ready to go hock all our old stuff at the flea market.
-I finally wake up so that I can get ready to hock all our old stuff at the flea market. Becky and I load up my brother’s truck, and I mount the “Slappin’ Dick Machine” to the roof. That thing is incriminating evidence against me; I have to get rid of it. We get to Rossi’s Pop Up Market and fight the other shiftless ne’er do wells for a spot. We set up our spot, both of us joking about flea markety things when my sister yells, “I’m sorry I’m not at the flea market every week! I’m sorry I’m not poor!” Now, I know my sister, and I’m fairly certain that she was quoting a movie there, but that still came out sounding pretty bad. And that’s coming from the guy who possibly killed a bunch of people on life support while high on Doritos Locos Tacos with a robot that slaps people with a floppy dildo wheel. And that, my friends is the craziest sentence I’ve ever written.
-We had barely set up our spot when we were flooded with our first set of customers at our table. One guy bought just about all of my brothers old toys, including the accessories that we didn’t know what toys they went to. We got about $20 outta him. Ha, sucker.
-the crowd had dispersed and a woman from the table next to ours told us that those people just bought our stuff to sell at their own tables. Son of a bitch, we got swindled! I was about to go find the people who had bought stuff from us and give them a piece of my mind, by which I mean fist, when my sister tolde that us getting rid of that stuff was more important than what they sell it for.
That calms me down a little, but I still say, “You win this round, flea market professionals. You win this round.”
-I remember that I left the Slappin’ Dick-Machine on the roof of the truck and that I was going to try and sell it. I bring it down and place it between my sister’s old tv and stereo.
-A man comes on the intercom and begins to advertise for different stores inside the flea market. Out of nowhere, he sings, “Let me tell you ’bout Sue’s Cuts.” the song instantly gets stuck in my sister’s head, and she tries to peddle our wares with the song. “Let me tell you ’bout these skis,” “Let me tell you ’bout these Beanie Babys,” and “Let me tell you ’bout the naked Barbie dolls” we’re among her best.
-My dad and his girlfriend stop by our table to see how things are selling. He shows us the pick axe that he bought, and we tell him that it isn’t allowed in the attic. My dad then sees the Slappin’ Dick-Machine and asks what it is. I just laugh instead of giving a real reply.
-my sister and I have whittled down our products to all the Barbie stuff, all of the books, the skis and the Slappin’ Dick-Machine.

A fairly young kid, no older than thirteen, comes up and is perusing through our array of junk when he spots the Slappin’ Dick-Machine. He points to it and asks, “Hey is that one of them Battlebots?”
I give a quick shrug to my sister and then answer with a, “Sure is. It is excellent in battle. And you can own it or $10”
The kid then asks, “Is there anything wrong with it.” Jesus Christ. This kid won’t just shut the fuck up and buy the robot.
“Not a thing,” I lie, “It works perfectly and isn’t a sentient being hell bent on destroying humanity at all.”
“Hmm,” the kid replies with a sound of fascination in his voice, “Ooh, What does this button do?”
Before I could stop him, he presses the power button, which woke the crazed robots. The dildo wheel begins to spin so fast that the dildos looked like brightly colored blurs. The robotic voice from the Speak and Say practically cries, “Destroy all humans!” Even though the voice was emotionless, it still sounded crazy and furious. It’s new robotic arms reaches under the battery and pulls out the paddles to the defibrillator and presses them against the boy’s chest. The poor boy is too slow to react, and gets zapped. He flies backwards several feet before hitting the ground. I thought he might be dead, but then I hear him cough. Good, because that would have put a damper on the whole day.
The Slappin’ Dick-Machine speeds off towards the open air tent of the seller’s to our right, and knocks all the glass vials and vases off of one of their tables. The woman closest to the robot starts yelling at it and tries to turn it off, but with on hard slap of the big black dildo, she falls into a wire rack holding old and out of style dresses. With its Speak and Say voice, the robot laughs. And it is a horrible, blood chilling laugh. It sounds soulless, kind of like how I expect Sean Hannity to laugh when he’s not on air.
My sister and I sit at our table and watch as the Slappin’ Dick-Machine destroys other people’s tables and goods, while also taking pieces of electronics and adding them to its form.
“So, are you going to deal with that?” my sister asks me while we watch my robot flip over a table of 2 liter bottles of Pepsi.
“Oh, yeah, because this is my problem,” I answer sarcastically.
“Well, we need to do something, it could start actually start hurting people,” she nags.
“Ugh, Fiiiiinnnnneee,” I groan, “I’ll stop the stupid thing. But these people owe me!”
I start chasing after the thing, just like I did a week ago, but man has this thing gotten fast. It can flip a table and dick slap every person trying to stop it before I can even get close enough to pounce on it. And all the while, that weird man on the intercom is still singing, “Let me tell you ‘bout Sue’s Cuts.”
“Let me tell you about your death, human,” My cock wielding robot replies as it sets its sights on the man. The man is up on some metal scaffolding at the front of the flea market. The Slappin’ Dick-Machine raises a newer third arm with a circular saw blade attached, and let the blade spin menacingly. It then takes off towards the scaffolding. By the time I reach the scaffolding, it has already begun to climb up one of the poles. The man up on the scaffolding is sceaming for help, and quite frankly, I’m a little disappointed he isn’t using the Sue’s Cuts jingle to do so. Despite the man’s lack of creativity when his life is on the line, I jump at the Slappin’ Dick-Machine, and am just able to grab a hold of one of its wheels. We both tumble back to the earth, and before it has a chance to slice my throat with its saw arm, I hit the button and the machine powers down.
“Yay!” I cry, “I’m a hero!”
No one else seemed to agree. They kick me out and banish me from the flea market forever. Jeez, some people just can’t take a joke.
-I’m on my way home to Ohio with my dog in the back seat, the gumball machine in the front, and the Slappin’ Dick-Machine tied to the roof. As I’m wondering aloud what I’m going to do with a robot that adds parts to itself and wants to kill humanity, I just make out the voice from the Speak and Say say, “You could let me loose at Della’s house.”
Mr. Slappin’ Dick machine, you and I are gonna be best friends.

The City of Champions Stikes(out) Again.


Holy national pastime Batman!

How often can a single city say that every professional sports team that calls that city home has proven themselves to be the best in a single year? Well this year Pittsburg did it. We all know about the Steelers and the Superbowl, the Penguins and the Stanley Cup, and now the Pirates.

For all twelve of you who still find America’s pastime interesting, you are probably thinking Minigan, the Pirates suck. They have not seen a winning season since 1992. That is exactly my point. The Pirates have scored under a 500 for the past 17 years, the longest losing streak in American baseball, and I wish to congratulate them on such an underrated accomplishment.

Let me explain. Other than the obvious fact that no team has sucked shark dick for so long, No team has had so many factors contributing to them sucking shark dick than the Pirates. I don’t care enough to go into them all, so check this link out (after your done reading my rant, of course)

Some people say “blame the owners,” others say “blame the Scouting Director,” and even others say “It be witchcraft I tells ya, WITCHCRAFT!!!!” But I say “hey bitches, maybe you are looking at this the wrong way,” and, “Why am I quoting myself right now?”

What everyone is failing to realize is that The Pirates management has made the team terrible ON PUPROSE. Think about it. It makes perfect sense. Why else would a team willingly trade away players that were just beginning to be good? Why else would they pick the least talented players for every draft pick? Why else would they stop recruiting from Latin America, whose baseball playing genes are obviously superior(Damn you sex crazed baseball-loving local women of Cancun!)

Here is their plan: in 1992, the owner and managers got together after the heartbreaking defeat to the Braves and came up with a new plan. What if they had a team so bad that they would beat the seasonal losing streak of every other team. This would of course take time, but they knew it would pay off. And I am proud to say that on Monday September 7, 2009, their dream was realized. They worked so hard at making the worst team in the country, and I think they deserve a round of applause. You have no idea how hard it is to suck for so long and to do it so fearlessly and without giving two shits about the consequences.  If that is not bravery mixed with genius, then I don’t know what is.

Not only that, but the previous owner was able to get the new managers and owner in on the idea back in 2007. He of course used the line “Losing builds character.Don’t you want you and your team to have character? ” That line should should be engraved in gold and put into the hall of fame for best quotes ever.

See that diamond down there, sweety? That is where the talent plays, We call them the opposing team.

See that diamond down there, sweety? That is where the talent plays. We call them the opposing team.

But here is the clincher. Despite this team being so bad for the past 17 years, they still have a fan base. STILL! The blind loyalty of the Pirates fans is sad, humbling, amazing, hilarious, and mildly erotic. It says a lot about a fan if they are willing to buy the tickets of a terrible team. Even though the fan is probably more interested in beer, food, and what US President is going to be tackled by a giant mutant pierogi during thispeirogies game. The fans of the Pirates are so faithful that they were even fine with the idea of the team getting a new stadium in 2001. Even in the movie “Angels in the Outfield” the Los Angeles Angles could not get anyone to come to watch their pathetic games, let alone get a new stadium. That is loyalty, my friends. And this is where The Pirates win. They  are the worst team in baseball, They are the laughing stock of the MLB and the sports world in general, yet they still have a loyal fan base. That makes them winners in my eyes. Now somebody give Bob Nutting a glove trophy covered in monkey shit and tell him it’s gold. He won’t know the difference, and maybe he will then decide work to make the team worthy of a mascot and a mutant pierogi race.

Peace be with you (and by “you” I mean “me”)

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