Happy Wednesday! (This post is long, due to the history pictures. If you’re reading this in your inbox, you’ll need to click a link at the bottom to open the remainder of it in your browser. I’m sorry. Drink lots of water in preparation.)
Link arms with me like we’re be-scarved chums in England heading to the pub for warmth and a pint, and off we go!
1. Your bridge crapassitude scale is poorly thought-out
It’s been one week since you looked at me and said, “Girl, a whole entire bridge fell down.” Cocked your head to the side and said, “That’s some crazy shit, right?”
It was crazy and it remains crazy. I joked last week about being afraid of our bridges, and it really was a joke … until I decided to get in my thoughts as I merged onto the Fort Duquesne Bridge over the weekend. I’m sure you’re aware of this, but, “in your thoughts?” Never a good place to be. I avoid it like I avoid “emotions” and “people I know in the grocery store.”
As I did what every Pittsburgher does, shoot across four lanes of traffic while playing footsies with two lanes of cars trying to merge toward my lane, my brain said, “Hey, girl. What would you do if this bridge fell right now?” Lord, self, why do you do these things? Ask these questions only to realize the answer is, “Scream and then die?” I’m never going to forgive the Fern Hollow Bridge for making me nervous about driving over bridges in a city that’s all, “Oh, you need a detour around the bridge collapse? Can I interest you in this residential route with three bridges also rated poor?”
But it’s okay. “Poor,” you see, means safe.
You know what I say about “poor” meaning “safe?” I say this: WORDS HAVE MEANING. Poor is not safe. Poor is poor. Poor is pretty bad. If the bridge-rating system says poor is safe, can I suggest a new system? One that makes sense? Where safe is safe and poor is … not? There is no pilot out there saying, “Folks. This plane was just inspected and found to be in poor condition. Sit back and relax and we’ll be taking off here shortly.”
No thanks. I’ll walk to Aruba from here.
2. Enshrine it in lore
Always the enterprising lot, yinzers are cashing in on the Fern Hollow collapse with some fun merch, as the kids say. City Paper has a round-up, and I found a few others:
It’s only a matter of time before the flying PAT double bus makes it onto the Primanti’s wall or is suspended over the Miniature Railroad Village at the Carnegie Science Center and crap that’s actually a great idea. Make it happen, someone.
3. When you wish upon a box of Cracker Jack
Well, I am in love with this news:
Caitlyn Callahan knows she’s a trailblazer, a history maker, and a role model. That goes without saying for someone who will become the first female uniformed coach in the Pittsburgh Pirates’ 140-year history. She begins her duties next month when minor league spring training begins in Bradenton, Fla.
A female coach. In uniform. Throwing batting practice. Look at her. Ugh. It does something beautiful to my heart. She’s lovely and knowledgeable and says she wants to help the team win the World Series … in the next five years.
Someone please tell her that when it comes to the Pittsburgh Pirates Future Crapassitude Scale, “poor” actually means “epically historically mind-blowingly bad.” I realize this isn’t Ted Lasso, but, can they be relegated?
4. Shadrach, Meshach, and A-Benjamin-go
Ooooh. Bible humor. High-five to the ten of you that got the reference. Everyone else is like, “Is that your new band name or something?” No. But also, yes.
As you may have heard, the Steelers did not make the Super Bowl this year. One of my sisters lives in Cincinnati, and despite her best efforts to raise Steelers fans in the Curse-ed Land of Who Dey, she failed and was forced to purchase Bengals gear for her three children in celebration of their forthcoming Super Bowl appearance, and wow. The Bengals are going to the Super Bowl. Maybe the world really did end in 2012 and this is the Matrix we’re living in. Anyway, when she texted the family group chat to tell us Cincinnati had been smote (smoted? smitten? Smited? Smwot? Let’s go with smwot.) with an ice storm, my father, always the die-hard Steeler fan and ALWAYS the bible-loving minister, had this to say to her:
Tribe of Benjamin LOL. Pittsburgh Steelers Bible humor for the win!
5. Raspberry cordial and ALL THE TAFFETA YOU CAN FIND
Why do I do these things? Why do I fall down these history wormholes when I should be writing my capstone thesis? This wormhole? I decided to see the evolution of Kaufmann’s fashion sold from the 1880s, when they began advertising with images, to the 1980s. 100 years of fashion. It was fun research that made me miss walkmans and Atari and TVs as big as Smart Cars and VCRs that cost as much as adoption. Get ready for a whole lotta white people:
Early 1880s, men and boys (Kaufmann’s was a men’s store originally):
Mid- to late- 1880s :
1890s
1890s sleepwear
1900s
1910s
1920s:
1930s
1940s
1950s
1960s
1970s:
1980s (so extra and finally some model diversity):
It’s crazy to me how clearly defined the fashions of the decades are — with little to no overlap. No bell-bottoms in the 80s and no Olivia Newton-John looking workout suits in the 70s. The year turns to 0 and fashion throws everything out to start from scratch.
Now, this final image is not fashion but it is going to create some real PTSD in some of you, so consider this your trigger warning. Ready?
I’m so sorry. Do you still owe them money too?
6. Parking rates are up a hundred-million percent
Found in r/Pittsburgh with the caption “Parking in Pittsburgh is getting ridiculous.” I’ve been laughing at the comments for days.
Somewhere, Jeff Bezos is like, “Parking? What could it cost? 8 million dollars?”
7. Whew. Sorry for all the scrolling. We’ll end it here. Deep calming breaths on the bridges, don’t get in planes rated “poor,” don’t get sucked into credit-ruining cassette tape schemes, and [gulp] let’s go, Bengals!
Yes, I’m rooting for them. That might upset you, and if so, here’s the number to call this week:
Cheerio! Pip pip! Wanker!
Wait.