Happy Wednesday! Remember when I used to publish these at 6:00 a.m. on the dot? How adorable was I, acting like some responsible adult with all her shit together? Lots to cover and not enough space, so let’s go.
1. Frozen fractals all ah-rahhhhnd
With Pittsburgh receiving more than 8 inches of snow, children all over the area woke up Monday and shouted WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO DO FREAKING ZOOM SCHOOL?! Ah, the bygone era of snow days replaced with virtual classrooms and kids in pajamas with iPads on their laps, gazing wistfully out the windows at a winter wonderland beckoning them to come play. No play! Stare dead-eyed through your screens like good little children!
Roads were a mess — some went untouched for more than a day and our new mayor got baptized into the absolute clusterfork of Pittsburgh’s snow removal operation. It has been more than 10 years since Snowmageddon and over 100 years since we started plowing roads like this …
… yet we still haven’t figured this out. Not with data or technology or science. Snow falls and we go, “What is this frozen precipitation accumulating on our road surfaces and what the gosh darn can be done about it and how do you drive in it?! Like this?”
There have been tech integrations, such as the snow plow tracker, but I feel like the solution to this should be simple math: This many miles of roads needs this many trucks with this much salt and this many drivers on this many shifts clearing this many times per hour based on snow falling at this rate carry the one regroup divide by pi something something solve for X. Boom! I’m a math genius. Hire me and I promise I won’t use my calculator to type out immature words more than ten times.
In seriousness, the city should put to use the amazing brains it snows in on the regular and partner up with Google or CMU and Pitt to figure this out. And let me know if they need to know how to type H-E-L-L-H-O-L-E into their calculators.
2. Dr. Oz tries to legitimately doctor, and I laugh …
Let’s check in with New Jersey’s Pennsylvania Senate candidate Dr. Oz! Since we last checked in with New Jersey’s Pennsylvania Senate candidate, he has been busy doing what reality show wannabe-politicians do — blaming Biden for a steel plant closing 27 years ago, scaring constituents about crime, begging for money, and throwing out vague platitudes like “reignite the divine spark” or “preserve the America we know” or “working to empower you” or “eagle flag patriot home of the brave we the people.” He also went to the Pennsylvania Farm Show last week and … [checks notes] … did blood pressure checks.
LITERALLY CRYING LAUGHING. “I want to ignore your weight and hear about how Joe Biden is driving up your blood pressure, but first, let’s make sure your blood pressure is astronomically high here at the farm show where there are entire sculptures made of butter. Oooh. That’s high indeed. Have you tried raspberry ketones? Eagle talon stars and stripes freedom guns bacon pew-pew.”
Yes, I’ll mock him every chance I get for as long as this General Hospital-villain-looking New Jersey doctor is running to represent Pennsylvania in the U.S. Senate.
3. A shameful “noble experiment”
I’m sure some of you are aware of this little Pittsburgh history fact — I’ve even mentioned it in the past — but I went on a deeper dig. Back in the late 1920s, Allegheny County acquired two Native American families from the Browning, Montana Blackfoot reservation. Yes, I wrote “acquired.” Why? Because they were mere commodities. Hired for $100 a month ($1,600 today), the families were to live in North and South Parks “to add color” in a “noble experiment to people the recreation centers with the native Americans and lend a naturalistic appearance [to the park].”
Just because you call something noble doesn’t make it so. Otherwise I’d say, “My noble experiment to see how many pigeons I can lure with french fries before punting them clean of their feathers…” They were to be caretakers/managers of the deer and buffalo populations in the parks, but really, they were objects of fascination that “attracted thousands.” Basically like a zoo. Come look at the indigenous, children! Give ‘em a war whoop! They were displayed at local events, and rode in parades.
Both families arrived with fanfare in May of 1928. Here they are with Mayor Kline.
Living in North Park was Chief Eddie Big Beaver and his wife Princess Cecile Big Crow Potts Mudhead Big Beaver (sometimes mistakenly referred to as Celia, Cecilia, or Mud Hen), and their three children, Eddie Big Beaver, 9, George Big Beaver, 6, and Mary Josephine Big Beaver, 3. Here is their teepee on Flagstaff Hill.
Living in South Park were Chief Eagle Ribs and his wife Princess Last Star (nearly always mistakenly referred to as Lone Star), and their adopted son Joseph Eagle Ribs, 13. The Eagle Ribs became homesick two months later and resigned. Well, that was what the county claimed but Eagle Ribs gave a teepee interview to the Post-Gazette and claimed he was actually fired. Upon their departure/ouster, a replacement Blackfoot family arrived that October — Chief Pete Redhorn, his wife Susan Weasel Short Face Redhorn, his wife’s mother Good Cutting Medicine Weasel (75), and four children: Big Joe, 17, Joe,12, Francis, 6 and Peter Forest, 7 months.
Good Cutting was a badass who smoked cigars, including one she lit up in the William Penn at their welcome breakfast with city and county officials.
From reports, it does seem like the Big Beavers felt the pull of the reservation they left behind, but still enjoyed their time in Pittsburgh. In fact, in September of 1929, Princess Mudhead gave birth to a girl and named her after commissioner Joseph Armstrong. Her name was Joey Armstrong Big Beaver, considered the first Blackfoot native to be born in the county.
As for the Redhorns, the press wrote they were departing December 3, 1928 because of homesickness/illness. Upon their departure, the Big Beaver family switched to South Park and their wages were raised in October 1930 to $150 month despite one county councilman accusing them of “living on the fat of the land.” But Chief Big Beaver was actually in quite a bit of debt.
In March of 1931, Chief Big Beaver, now 47, headed back to Montana with his wife and family, ending the “noble experiment” of using Native Americans as sideshow attractions in Pittsburgh. Eddie and Cecile popped up again in 1932 with this photo of them waiting for a train in Montana, and they appeared as extras in the 1939 Shirley Temple film, Susannah of the Mounties.
Their grandchildren would be Boomers. I wonder where they are and if they know the history of their family’s time in Pittsburgh.
4. Get a load of this! she punned like a dad.
The big transportation news since last week is the current state-crossing of #PASuperLoad22. Stop laughing.
Coming in at 213 feet long and 294 tons (!), the SuperLoad is still making a 400-mile journey on 96 tires from West Milton, New York to Wampum, Pennsylvania. This load has gained actual superfans, called “loadspotters,” who follow its every mile as if they’re watching Olympic glory unfold before their eyes … very very slowly. Like if turtle-racing was a sport (you gotta be freaking kidding me). Apparently the thing, which I initially identified as an alien spaceship, is a decommissioned nuclear tank.
I don’t know what 7 means or if radioactivity has a convenient 1-10 scale, but 7 feels … high? I like my radioactivity to be down close to 0, personally. This sucker takes up two lanes and cannot exceed 30 mph, so get stuck behind it at the peril of your blood pressure then you’ll have to go see Dr. Oz at the farm show and he’ll be like “I’d recommend you have your eyeball mapped purple mountain majesties let freedom ring hoo-ah!” Here’s what it looks like in action and I use the term “action” as loosely as Dr. Oz’s connections to Pennsylvania:
That poor overpass is like …
5. Speaking of Spidey …
Until it showed up on Reddit, I was unaware of Spider-Man issue #262 published September 1, 1987 with Pittsburgh as its setting (or, more likely, I was aware, have already written about it in the last decade but forgot about it because I’m elderly). Spider-Man faces off with Spider-Slayer and all the good Pittsburgh spots show up.
Mmmmrow, tiger. Get it. And yes, Mary Jane accepts his proposal in this issue, at the airport no less. You can read it with a free Marvel Unlimited trial, so check it out. Not an ad. Forget “Gateway to the West” or “Steel City” or “Cinders” or “City of Champions.” Let’s embrace “City Where Spider-Slayer Died” or “City Where Mary Jane accepted Peter Parker’s Proposal.”
They just roll off the tongue. At least better than “City That Used to Keep Native Americans as Zoo Pets.”
Bah-dum-tisss!
6. And that’s all for today! Have a great week! Come out to see my Hole cover band HELLHOLE BOOBIES this week. And if you’re a member of PETA and my pigeon-punting joke upset you, you can either camp out naked on my front lawn or call 1-800-HOTLINEBLING and ask for Drake.
If that doesn’t work, can I interest you in a coupon for some raspberry ketones?