Can we just … talk about new normals?
For a sec?
When this fire-roasted shitshow began, as our new normal it was jarring. Like me, you woke up each morning, had maybe four seconds of blissful sleep-bleary forgetfulness, then the surreality set in and it was like a Mack truck running you over before dumping a haul of boxed sets of anxiety and fear on your head. Sobering you up. Morning after morning.
Here we are, some number of weeks (what is time?) into our shitshow, and the new normal is now the normal. It’s not running you over every morning. It’s not bitch-slapping you into consciousness. It’s just a light tap-tap-tap then *Kim Kardashian voice* “Hey, guys. We’re in a pandemic. Just wanted to gently remind you. Mm-kay.”
We — the humans — are resilient. We emotionally adjust to the shitshow. Even if you’re dealing with depression and anxiety and fear, you’re still resilient. And that’s what will get us to the other side of this thing, where we will pick up a brand new normal — one that hopefully involves sitting shoulder to shoulder with friends at a Pirates game while eating nachos out of a helmet and trying to use The Force to mind-choke the wooers.
This has been Positively Virginia Montanez. Join us next time as I vomit another glitter-coated word-rainbow onto your screen. At least it’s not a poop-encrusted word-salad like a Trump press briefing. (BOOM! POLITICS!)
Someone please embroider “I’d rather have a glitter-coated word-rainbow than a poop-encrusted word-salad” onto a pillow for me, thanks.
Let’s get to it!
The Missing Puzzle Piece Saga. We pick up our story after my parents requested/demanded my 17-year-old son paint or otherwise recreate the missing piece.
Using several layers of card stock, an X-ACTO knife, Sharpies, and a bit of paint, my kid did his best to fill in the missing piece, literally, and delivered it to his grandparents.
Not to get all Jesus-y on you, but it is finished. Finally. Behold:
Not too shabby.
Satisfied, my parents smoked a cigarette and have started a brand new puzzle. It’s a Van Gogh. Mom tells us that they’re both ripping their hair out about it. This is her artistic critique texted to us after having toiled over the puzzle for four straight days:
“Van Gogh is a painter who did not paint lines.”
(I’m adding that to his Wiki page in the hopes it shows up in like 742 junior high essays next year.)
There are no hard edges and everything is smudgy and therefore they’re nearing the end of their collective wits. I am 100% getting them a Monet puzzle next. They’ll both be bald by June.
Let’s chat about the history of Pittsburgh’s colors!
First, allow me to put to rest with finality the black and yellow versus black and gold debate.
The correct answer is …
Sorry, Wiz. There’s a reason we’ve always said gold.
(Also, ignore the blue/gold thing in the subhead. The article, and several others, reveal they were actually debating black/gold versus blue/white. So that’s probably a misprint.)
So here’s what went down. Picture it. Pittsburgh. December 1898. City Council decided they wanted to design a city seal for a flag and to also pick some city colors. Philadelphia had done it and we must too. So they put together a separate committee to come up with ideas, and the chair of the committee? Future mayor Diehl. Cool.
English general A. Pitt Rivers (which, BEST NAME EVER ARE YOU KIDDING ME?), a descendant of William Pitt (who never set gouted foot in America, let alone Pittsburgh, by the way), was asked about the coat of arms of the Pitt family, and he sent this letter back to the brother of a London barrister who lived in Pittsburgh. The letter was then forwarded to the committee.
Neat. So they take a look at the coat of arms and …
Great. Black and gold. Done. Carnegie Museum of Art says so.
Not so fast. But of course, there’s gotta be a jerk, right? That one dude who is like, “How can I Wendy Bell this situation?” And that person is committeeperson Jenkinson who objects because THAT LOOKS LIKE DEATH.
Can you just HEAR everyone on committee rolling their eyes? Like, “Ugh. Jenkinson. That bloke really chaps my pantalooned arse, by Jove!”
In light of the protest, they ended the meeting deciding to get two flags made. One black/gold and one gold/white. Once the flags were done, they would meet again to take a look because it wasn’t like they could just email everyone a PDF.
THE. TENSION. YOU. GUYS.
It’s now February of 1899. February 23 to be exact and the committee has announced they would be meeting the next day for the final decision. But, there’s something WEIRD GOING ON.
ORANGE AND BLACK?!
Is that a misprint? Did “black and gold,” as every other article up to this point has referenced, somehow become “orange and black?” Did we die and go to Cincinnatihell? WHAT IN THE NAME OF ANDY DALTON IS HAPPENING?
It’s now February 24. The meeting is taking place. Will it be black and gold? Blue and white? ORANGE AND BLACK?
First, let’s check in with our correspondent in the studio, Trevor Noah.
Thank you, Trevor. Drumroll!
Black and gold wins! And it won unanimously because committeeperson Jenkinson decided maybe it wasn’t too smallpoxy after all.
The four flags they chose? ARE THE BOMB! Have a look.
That city pennant and city streamer?
We need to bring those back. Posthaste, Jenkinson, I say, my good man.
Imagine them flying from bridges and lampposts downtown.
The first official city flag unfurled was done so at North Highland Avenue’s No. 8 engine house on March 14, 1899, and the cool part? The firemen made the flag!
One final note: black/gold, blue/white, and ORANGE/BLACK were not the only colors ever considered for our city.
PURPLE AND ORANGE.
Thank God it was never pushed or else we might all be walking around the airports looking like we’re heading to the disco.
With the PLCB closing all the liquor stores, obviously Pittsburghers did what you’d expect — drank whatever liquor they had at home, then switched to beer.
Yeah, right. No, they turned into purple Minions and swarmed like locusts to bordering states where liquor stores remained open, leaving store owners like Ms. Johnson reeling from the influx.
“They’re coming in and buying everything in half-gallons, in cases,” she said. “Our usual delivery is 120 cases in a week. We’ve had 800 cases over the last two weeks, and I still have empty shelves.”
God bless you, yinzers.
Then she said the quiet part out loud:
She pointed out that this was lost business for Pennsylvanian liquor stores.
“I think they’re the only state that [closed liquor stores], and I don’t know why they did,” Ms. Johnson said. “You guys are losing a lot of money in Pa., that’s for sure”
Oh, Ms. Johnson. You’ve accidentally revealed the entire operating plan of the PLCB. In fact, their operations manual has two pages, all in comic sans. Page one says, “Make things as difficult as possible.” Page two says, “When in doubt, make more rules.”
True story. There used to be a page three but it was just a doodle of that Monopoly guy Pennybags with a heart drawn around him.
Would you like to know how my quarantine eating habits are going? This is the box of cookies my mom had delivered from a local baker to my house for Easter:
This is like if a Pittsburgh wedding cookie table and an easter egg made babies.
There are enough cookies here that I can stage my wedding to a half-gallon jug of Tito’s vodka and have a respectable reception cookie table in my dining room.
Hope my kids hit their piggy banks to pay to dance with the drunk bride. I wonder who will catch the roll of toilet paper I toss.
SPEAKING. OF.
My local Target has given up on stocking toilet paper and has replaced the aisle stock with various fans and window air conditioners. Their message is clearly, “Try holding your butt up to one of these and see if that dries it off idk.”
BUT. My local Walmart, out of the blue, after a month of empty TP shelves, had nearly every brand of toilet paper back in stock. Like ALL OF THE TOILET PAPER. If you need toilet paper, try the North Huntingdon Walmart. It’s super clean and they are doing a good job making sure everyone can safely social distance.
If you see me there, please don’t acknowledge my existence, because I basically look like this now.
Jenkinson, is that you?
This is so cool. Tomorrow (what is time?), April 16 at 7:30 p.m., WQED will air three of the most classic Mister Rogers episodes ever:
• 7:30 p.m.: “How People Make Crayons” — A favorite factory tour from 1981
• 8 p.m.: “Cellist Yo-Yo-Ma/How People Make Bass Violins” — An episode from 1985
• 8:30 p.m.: “Musical Games/Talking About Feelings” — An episode from 1982
Get your cardigans out, yinz. We going to the CRAYON FACTORY again!
And let’s call it there. Another week of this new normal under our belts. The curve. The flattening. It is all happening. Stay home and we will see each other on the other side of this thing.
And remember, as Churchill said, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”
