How I’ll Be Spending My Shelter-in-Place

By Sarah Yule 

How to Build the Ultimate Blanket Fort in 2020 | Blanket fort, Sleepover  room, Tent kids room

If you had the sense to mute your Outlook notifications this past Monday, you may have missed the news that we Pitt students are “strongly encouraged” to shelter in place about two weeks prior to going home for Thanksgiving. As can be said for many aspects of this Flex@Pitt dystopia, this recommendation can feel a tad yucky. Who wants to spend the last fourteen days of living under the rule of the benevolent and all-powerful Kenny BonBon and Pitt’s very own Galligator within the four walls of their teeny dwelling? We should be out and about, sowing our wild oats from one dirty South O basement to the next. But alas, we find ourselves here, and I have taken up the task of gifting you some advice on what you can do to make your shelter-in-place less depressing. 

1. For all my freshman, maybe you took the Freshman-15 as an obligatory sprint instead of a lightly suggested marathon. Maybe you, say, blew all of your dining dollars on pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream at Market to Go and have resorted to using your debit card these past weeks. Maybe, just maybe, the workers in said Market to Go know you and give you the same sad look when you check out with said Ben & Jerry’s ice cream pint on a near-daily basis. All of this is hypothetical, and I am totally not speaking from experience. So, now is the time to turn it around. Okay, I know, it is not possible nor healthy to embark on a total weight loss overhaul with mere days left in the semester. But, if you get off at the Gain Train’s next stop, you can ensure that this Thanksgiving of comments like “Wow, you really grew up!” is the last of its kind. 

2. Read that book that you told yourself you were going to read. It’s been sitting on your desk as a reminder of your failure to stick to anything and to leave it there would be letting that book win. What’s my shame book, you may ask? It’s a self-help read sent to me by my father following my first tearful phone call home in August when I couldn’t figure out how to get the dryer to start. While the book doesn’t directly deal with the function of laundry apparatuses, I’d assume it must have something useful to offer me. So, I will be delving into that sucker come November 12th. 

3. Call your friends from your hometown and prepare to make all of this shelter-in-placing for naught. You’ve been away from these people for months, so logically that extra week before Thanksgiving has to include a large gathering with half of your graduating class. Sure, it’ll put everyone around you in danger, but a life not lived on the edge is hardly worth living. 

4. Walk (six feet away from all human life forms) around campus and say a quick goodbye to all of your favorite spots. Much to my chagrin, I do have to advise you not to actually kiss the structures you’re bidding adieu to; I love a good building as much as the next guy, but these are unprecedented times, folks. I plan on washing my hands one last time in the definitely-haunted bathroom on the third floor of Cathy. I’ll get my last large iced coffee with almond milk and pumpkin swirl from the Forbes Ave Dunkin. Lastly, I will eat my last order of Sarah’s signature shame lo mein from Schenley Plaza’s Asia Tea House. That goodbye will undoubtedly be the most heartbreaking.

Once you’ve done all of these things, you’ll be perfectly ready to go back to your hometown. I wish you luck, and look forward to seeing you crying as I pass you on your very own farewell tour of Pitt’s campus over the coming weeks.

Everybody’s got something to hide except me and my frisbee!

By Eric Brinling

Let me confide in you, my loyal reading public: I’m scared. I’m really scared. I might even go so far as to say that I’m downright frightened. Maybe not quite terrified, but it’s getting there. I’m on the cusp of terrifism. It’s a horrifying state to be in.

    I went outside today – which alone is newsworthy – to find a brave new world. Everyone around me, from the garbage man to the construction worker to fancy lady Francine “la damme française” Laderoute and even Fanny and Lady, her dogs, were wearing masks. Even the sidewalk had a mask on it, suggesting that it too was in on the plot. I longed to return to the safety of my closet, but I put on a brave face. I had made a commitment to several strangers that I had met on the r/Pitt subreddit that I would meet them to toss around a frisbee, like normal college students are supposed to do. 

    To my horror, they too were wearing masks. How did they expect to catch any frisbees? With their hands? 

    They just stared at me judgingly. I glanced nervously between them. One of them, a tall boy with astonishingly short legs and a disproportionate torso to make up for it, and a very large, ugly head with eyes that seemed to be two different sizes and ears that seemed to be two different shapes, one like a boat and the other like a camera, and hair that seemed to have been styled in the form of an elliptic paraboloid – what was I saying? Anyway, this guy seemed to be the least judgmental and kindest of the group, so I tossed my frisbee at him.

    Surprisingly nimble for his little dachshund legs, he dodged away and said, “Dude, we’re not frizzing with you if you aren’t going to wear a mask.”

    What were they all hiding behind the masks? I guess I had been in that closet for a long time. Do people still have mouths? Are mouths taboo? Did some serial fruit-placer go around putting orange slices in mouths across Pittsburgh, creating a need to cover one’s mouth constantly in fear of the orange slice placer? Or maybe aliens have invaded, and they were able to replicate every part of the human body except for the mouth, and I’m the only real human left? But then why would they want me to wear a mask, shouldn’t they want to keep me marked as a true human for future brain autopsies or for a spare member on their Wednesday night human pop culture pub trivia team?

    Whatever it was they were hiding, I knew I had no similar need to wear a mask. I felt my mouth to make sure it wasn’t replaced with a garbage disposal or a plastic bag or a mirror or something and, finding my mouth wet and squishy as usual, picked up my frisbee and went home. I don’t think I’ll come out again for another few months, maybe masks will be out of fashion by then.

Things You Could Buy With the Money You’re Saving by Not Having a Wedding

By: Abby Stoudt

Great news LGBT community! In light of Justice Barret being appointed to the Supreme Court, I’m making a list of all the fun things we can buy instead of paying for a wedding. So, instead of dropping 30 grand on a wedding, you can now afford:

  1. 2,727 frog shaped coin purses
  2. An unlimited amount of Turning Point USA activism kits whose pins you can then repurpose with $30,000 worth of Posca markers (While we’re dropping $30,000 we might as well buy the good stuff)
  3. 600 pairs of rainbow crocs
  4. A brand new Subaru
  5. 428 Seinfeld boxed sets
  6. 131 Bokuto plushies (but the huge one because again, we’re treating ourselves, LGBT community <3)
  7. 600 Iconic Milk Bar birthday cakes
  8. Roughly 7,500 of my go-to Starbucks order: A grande iced coffee with sweet cream and 3 pumps of white mocha
  9. 1,666 copies of the Trolls Soundtrack on vinyl and 428 record players to listen to it on
  10. 1,578 tapestries that depict Robert Pattinson standing in his kitchen

Well, I hope this helps because you all know what they say: retail therapy is a valid form of therapy.

But on a more serious note everyone, we’re showing the jokes the door for a moment, I know that times feel really rough right now but we will make it through this together. I love you <3.

Horoscopes For the Week Of October 19th

By Ella Mizera

The autumn breeze has begun to set in, and in this period of transition it’s always helpful to keep an eye on the future.

Aries: You will reminisce on the futility of life this week, just as you have every other week this year. You can find an answer, but it will involve going to the Dunkin’ Donuts on Forbes and asking for Jim.

Taurus: Try using conditioner before shampoo. This isn’t a metaphor, I just want to know what happens if you do that.

Gemini: Your scrapbooking hobby will take a turn for the gruesome, so make sure to freshen the air before your roommate comes back and asks you why the room smells like blood.

Cancer: That window doesn’t lead outside. I don’t know where it goes, but it isn’t where you think it goes based on Euclidean geometry. Maybe that’s where they keep the frozen corpses of our previous deans?

Virgo: Have a friend over for dinner. Also, the meaning of life is written on page 42 of the closest textbook. I know, it’s weird.

Libra: Bernie Sanders will appear to you in dreams, asking for a sacrifice. What he asks of you is entirely dependent on your relationship with your mother.

Scorpio: What if my dog is just an ambulating mass of bees wearing a dog suit for Halloween? What if yours is too?

Sagittarius: The next few days will be hard. Substantially harder, as if they were somehow more solid than the last. Enjoy your liquid days while they last, for the freezer of God is merciless.

Capricorn: It’s time that we started going back to geocentrism, and you are the perfect leader for this intellectual uprising. Show NASA what’s up.

Aquarius: Throw a dart at the map. Wherever the dart lands, an unwitting animal will gain the ability to speak. It will revere you as a god, but you will never meet it. At least, I hope not.

Pisces: Eating a sticker seemed like a good idea at the time, I know, but what you didn’t foresee is that the adhesive would bind to the roof of your mouth. Please let me know if you’re okay.

Ophiuchus: You’ll fall in love.

A sneak peak at the Non Alcoholic Mix Off later this month

By the writers of the Pittiful News

  • Clowns 
    • Clowns have a rich history in the Pittsburgh area, they go back many generations as seen in the balloon family trees they make after asexually reproducing. 
    • Drink: “Honk my Horn if you know what i mean”
      • Fruit punch, Vegan Bailey’s Irish almond milk creamer, 1 lollipop (on top, similar to a cherry)
  • Witchtok
    • The Witchtok community represents a broad spectrum of witches of all kinds, by sharing videos of witch tips, potions, weird peace offerings they leave in the garden for the nymphs, and reading each other’s tarot fortunes to give sad witches some encouragement
    • Drink: “The Bubble, Bubble, Toil, and Trouble”
      •  A blend of herbal teas with hints of chamomile and rose, some of the stuff from my garden that I didn’t actually plant it just kinda grew, and edible glitter, all stewed in a cauldron (pot) while we chant in Parseltongue
  •  Arbor Day Enthusiasts
    • Anyone can be an Arbor Day Enthusiast, but not just anyone can be an Arbor Day Enthusiast, if you catch my drift. The community is often split into two factions: those who enjoy celebrating Arbor Day with a barbecue and a game of cornhole and those who are active participants in yearly Arbor Day revolutions worldwide in which they overthrow authoritarian regimes and replace them with a government run by trees. These two factions do not get along (even (especially) on Arbor Day).
    • Drink: “Committing Treeson”
      • Maple syrup, sawdust, blanched ginkgo leaves, some wood chips if you’re feeling frisky
  •  Anti-Maskers
    • The fuckheads, i mean anti-maskers, are a group of people who believe that masks are dummy dumb dumb and they shouldnt be worn because they dont work and kill brain cells. We collectively have two brain cells and are not about to risk losing the rest. Plus, if Trump survived COVID, then we can, too.
    • Drink: “Bleach”
      • Bleach jello shots from coronavirus shaped molds 
  • Children of the Corn
    • They shuck all day and shuck all night. They shuck when they’re happy and they shuck when they’re sad. They shuck like animals. They love corn and they just don’t care who knows it. Is that what the movie’s about? I think it is.
    • Drink: “Maybe I’m A-Maize-d”
      • Corn right off the cob, corn that’s been off the cob for a day or two, high fructose corn syrup, cornmeal, cornflour, a few corny jokes, a unicorn, General Cornwallis, candy corn, corn ethanol, etc.
  • Oakland 
    • A community of students and faculty alike, centering their time around the livelihood of the city. The Oakland community consists mostly of Pitt students and other universities’ students who come to the Pitt campus to study. We pride ourselves on our dedication to leaving garbage in the streets whenever possible, which includes but is not limited to: five guys fries we dropped for the birds, cigarette butts, any bag, empty dab carts, and Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond.
    • Drink: “The Oakland Token”
      •  Five Guys fries we dropped for the birds, cigarette butts, any bag, empty dab carts, and Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond
  •  Nursing Students That Used To Bully Me In High School
    • The popular kids in school who bullied or outright ignored me are now training to be in charge of people’s survival. They would’ve failed high school chemistry if not for the participation grade, and now they wonder why they’re failing OChem. Hallmarks include messy buns, Lululemon pants, hydroflasks, and the inability to empathize with people outside of their suburban clique! I trust them with my life! 
    • Drink: “The Nursing Dose”
      • Starbucks Double Shot, mixed with 10 ccs of blood; stat, and the tears of children. Mix for 10 seconds in your mom’s food processor. Add protein bar chunks, stickers that say “it’s a beautiful day to save lives”, and seventeen episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. Complain about early clinicals. Be stuck in one profession for the rest of your life. 
  •  Monkey “Enthusiasts”
    • The people that are REALLY into monkeys *wink*
    • Drink:”The Monkey’s Crotch” 
      • 16 Fleas, 2 oz of Coconut Cream, 3 oz Pineapple Juice, A Whole Lot of Disapproval From One’s Parents, a Splash of Water, .75 oz of Fresh Lime Juice, 3 dashes of a Cease and Desist from the Local Zoo, and a pinch of salty tears that God didn’t make you a monkey
      • Instructions: In a blender, combine all the ingredients until smooth. Then pour into a glass before you cry yourself to sleep after realizing you’ve been on permanent house arrest after THAT incident you pulled with monkeys from the local zoo…. Rumor says that those monkeys never looked at people the same way.  
  • Pitt Administration
    • They have long lived in the sewers under oakland and have developed their own culture, they often ask other residents to come play with them in the sewers and then eat the students and blame it on Covid-19
    • Drink: “Honey I Murdered the Kids”
      • Oh the places you’ll go (Dr. Seuss book), any photograph you have from college, gatorade(red to represent the blood spilt in the sewers)
  • The pigeons that live in my house
    • These Pigeons will not leave
    • Drink: “Just Rat Poison”
      • Rat poison with a hint of lime, Rat poison restaurant style, rat poison scoops, salt and vinegar rat poison; you can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. There’s uh, rat poison-kabobs, rat poison creole, rat poison gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried rat poison. There’s pineapple rat poison, lemon rat poison, coconut rat poison, pepper rat poison, rat poison soup, rat poison stew, rat poison salad, rat poison and potatoes, rat poison burger, rat poison sandwich, sour cream and onion rat poison 
  •  Gym Bros
    • The giga-chads you see strutting around the inside of the Baierl Student Recreation Center like they own the place. Which, I mean, they do. If they ask me if I’m using something you best believe I’m saying “nope, my bad.” This drink represents everything about the weightlifting community, including but not limited to: shitty cutoffs made from free Pitt t-shirts, skipping leg day, a supply-chain major, and spending Saturdays with the boys.
    • Drink: “Get Swole or Die Trying”
      • 70g whey protein powder (chocolate flavor), 14 lq oz human sweat, a dash of methamphetamine, peanut butter, 1.2 gal blue powerade run through a Brita filter. All contained in a BlenderBottle, obviously.
  •  Squirrel Hill
    • Many people in Squirrel Hill are Jewish, some are not, but one thing everyone from Squirrel Hill loves is Manischewitz wine, but since we cant have that due to alcohol content, we will have Kedem’s grape juice
    • Drink: “do I really need to put a name in this box, I literally said it was just Kedem’s grape juice, oh, it is copying down whatever i say, alexa stop, siri off, google home leave me alone, beam me up scotty, if i hit the enter key maybe it will stop”
      • Kedem’s grape juice, like just that in a glass, it tastes great

Real and fake facts about Alcohol safety mixed together like a quality cocktail (shaken not stirred, what is this the 1800’s no cocktails are stirred nowadays) 

  1. It is unsafe to drink and drive
  2. Putting little umbrellas in your fruity drinks makes them taste better
  3. Making jokes about consent is funny
  4. Pong is a game played at many ceo events
  5. all white house staff must carry narcan, it does not help with alcohol, it is just good for all the “diet” coke (just cocaine) the president does (do not use narcan if someone is overdosing from cocaine, it will send them into cardiac arrest, narcan is safe for use on those overdosing on opioids)
  6. If you drink more, you’ll be happy
  7. It is unsafe to drink and drive
  8. I’m a fruity drink ;)
  9. One sip of beer will steal your virginity, your childhood memories, and your youthful essence
  10. Certain types of liquor make jazz sound better

I stole my neighbor’s lawn ornaments

By Tyler Sikov

               I have once again gotten myself into a pickle, not literally this time. My neighbors wanted to test out their new security system, so they asked me to steal some of their lawn ornaments. I was on board immediately and began planning my expert heist. I arrive at their house (like a minute after I leave my house, you know neighbors and all) and I set my sights on my targets, the ornaments.

               There is an assortment of ornaments. There is a peacock where the tail and body spin independently of each other. There is one that is topped with an orb, that I am certain is just a wizard staff half buried in the ground. There is a very rusted sun flower. The last one is a stained-glass picture of 2 butterflies on a stick.

               I look for defenses and more importantly flaws in the defenses. I do not notice anything stopping me from stealing the ornaments. So, I walk up and pick the orb and peacock up. I walk back to my house and hide them in my garage. I go back and get the other 2 ornaments and hide them in my garage. As with all crimes I commit, I desire recognition so I go back to the scene of the crime and contemplate stealing their potted plants but decide against it.

               A few hours later my neighbors asked where their lawn ornaments went. I informed them that I stole them as they had requested to which they replied that they had not yet installed their new security system and had been at a funeral while I was stealing their ornaments. They asked me to return them but I said no because I put some effort into planning my heist. I was planning on doing a number of flips and rolls through the laser field I pictured. I brought multiple bandanas which I planned to use as weapons. Most importantly I had a getaway driver which I never used, now I have to apologize to my mom for not using her help in yet another criminal act. I will keep you, my readers, up to date on my escapades in nefarious activities.

10 Hot Pics of Roc to Make Your Day

By Savannah Teman

10 Hot Pics of Roc to Make Your Day

Roc is coming to steal yo girl

Roc coming home after a long day of holding the weight of every Pitt students’ depression on his shoulders

Who else has a cool statue of themselves? Abe Lincoln? Roc has us all beat.

I always thought Roc looked good in pink

Who says we can only have one Roc?

Roc in the desert, his natural habitat

He always impresses me with his skills

What’s on Sutherland’s Mysterious 9th Floor?

By Isaac Przybysz

During my freshman year, I was wandering the halls of my native Sutherland and found something odd in the stairwell: a locked door at the end of a set of stairs going up from floor 8. “But how?” I thought. “The building only has 8 floors, that we know of.” So I decided to sneak find an alternative entrance up to the floor and here’s what I found:

  • State secrets
  • Science experiments
  • A parking lot
  • A swimming pool
  • The genetic code for clones of more pre-med students from outside Philly
  • Patrick Gallagher’s heating lamp
  • An elevator to hell
  • The end of the song “American Pie”
  • A secret stash of Natty Light
  • A Mario pipe, probably also to hell
  • All the Starship robots
  • Your grandparents’ tapes from when Pitt football was good
  • The ‘butthole cut’ of Cats
  • The Port Authority bus that fell in a sinkhole last year
  • The Plague Inc controller for COVID
  • Yoshi’s tax returns
  • All the unmatched socks lost in the dryers
  • A rabbit hole to Wonderland
  • The Chevron steps
  • Sodexo
  • The O (RIP) 

The fruits of your labor

By Eric Brinling

Ripe Fruit: How To Know When Produce Is Ready To Eat

You wake up. It was all a dream. The coronavirus, the Trump presidency, the imminent environmental apocalypse, all of it. You sit up and rub your eyes, which are grapes. Your fingers are plump little bananas. It’s another fruity spring day of your freshfruit year at the University of Cherry Pitsburgh. 

    You check the clementime on your phoneydew. It’s late. You jump out of bedfruit and go to brush your teeth (which are snowberries) with jelly, or whatever the toothpaste equivalent is in your fruit-themed world. You’re meeting up with your old fruit school friend Jackfruit for the first clementime this semester, and you don’t want to be late. Finally, someone to wine to about how depressed (as in a wine press) and lonely you feel. 

    You head to the lawn below the Cathedral of Pearning and wait on a bench plum for your friend. To your annoyance, you have to wait for several persimminutes before Jackfruit arrives. Finally, you see him walking past the Thomas E. Star-Fruit statue. 

    “Hey Jackfruit, how’s it hanging?” you ask politely in the customary way that fruits greet each other.

    “Grape!” he says, more enthusiastically than you had hoped. You had expected him to have a similar calabur of general meloncholy to yours. His fruity play on the word ‘great’ took you by surprise, and not in a good way.

    “Why’s that?” you ask, your voice close to betraying your cavendisinterest.

    “I went on a date!” says Jackfruit, his pearly snowberries showing a wide, banana-shaped smile.

    “With who?”

    “Do you remember Melonie?”

    Of course, you remember Melonie. In your despearate attempts to find friendly fruits last semester you went to some lemon’s party at Carnegie Melon. There you met Melonie, whom you introduced to Jackfruit. You thought you had a fine fruitship with her, but your cornuspondence* had grown berry slow of late. Now, you suppose, you know why.

    But you just say, “Yes.”

    “Well,” says Jackfruit, “we’ve been hanging out (as fruits do) for a while now and I think we make a really good pear.”

    “Good to pear,” you say after a short pawpause.

    “What?”

    “Pear, you know, like hear. Maybe it’s better when read in text than when spoken aloud,” you hope that to be the case, but you also know it might have just been a bad joke. But it was easy. Low hanging fruit, so to speak. 

    “Ah okay. Well, I have to prune off, I’m afraid. Melonie will be raisin hell if I don’t get to lunch to watch her eat her fruit salad.”

    “No, yeah, that’s fine. I have to call my cran-ma and grand-papaya anyways,” you lie, having no intention to call your elderberries. 

    You watch the mango. You know in the peach pit of your stomach that this is the last clementime you’ll see him for a long while. You wish you would have said, “Orange you glad I introduced you two?” or “Please hang out with me more, Jackfruit, I’m cripplingly lonely,” but your wit was not quick enough. 

    You sigh and reflect on it all. You started the day with two friends, or so you thought, and ended with zero. Maybe you should’ve never introduced Melonie and Jackfruit. Maybe you should’ve just tried harder. You really did give it your best, but it seems that others have harvested the fruits of your labor. And what are you left with when it’s all said and done? Kumsquat!

*Important note: this is not, in fact a pun on the word ‘corn’ but rather a pun on the word ‘cornus’, a genus of fruit-bearing trees. Corn is not a fruit, so that wouldn’t work. Now that I’ve explained the joke, it’s hilarious, right?

Coaching Deity Pat Narduzzi Reveals Secret Strategy to Win Football Games

By Evan Rafferty

Author’s Note: This article was written long ago, based on an alternative timeline in which the author still felt happiness. When the sun still rose in the morning, the birds sang their cheerful songs, when Pitt didn’t absolutely blow it against NC State, and bungle it against Boston goddamn College. Football only serves as a chilling reminder that nothing will change, nobody loves you, and it doesn’t get better, so don’t get your hopes up. Until next Saturday.

    That’s right, nerds. Close that textbook. Put away that laptop. It’s time to watch our lads sling some pigskin and slam a bunch of losers into the dirt. What do you mean there’s a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic going on? Shut up, it’s football season.

Unless you’re actually dumb, then you know that our Pitt Panthers opened up the 2020 season with absolutely dominating victories over a bunch of posers that call themselves the Austin Peay State University “Governors,” and a basket of oranges hailing from Syracuse. Who knew you could grow citrus in upstate New York? Anyway, if you know anything about the greatest sport in America, you could probably deduce that this means that Pitt is once again the best team in the nation (Don’t @ me, Clemson. See you on November 28th). But for Pitt and their head coach, Pat “The Thunder of Southern Connecticut” Narduzzi, with great power rankings comes great responsibility. The Panthers have an obligation, a moral imperative, to enlighten the mass media and give some insider information on just how the Panthers have gotten off to such a hot start. However, despite the onslaught of reporters foaming at the mouth, begging for an iota of detail behind the team’s victories, none have been successful at getting the coaching staff to spill the beans. It was time to bring in the big guns, the A-team, the best detective that upper campus has to offer: me.

    With help from my god complex and the motivation from my self-condemned Sisyphean struggle to try and inform the stupid common man, I was able to call in a few favors, whip up a little blackmail, and break into Heinz Field by disguising myself as a ketchup bottle in order to get a one-on-one interview with the man, the myth, the legend himself, Patrick Regan Narduzzi. While you might have expected someone to be surprised or scared by a walking, talking, stalking, popping, and locking tomato sauce container approaching you and screaming out of excitement, Narduzzi paid no attention to my presence. The man’s a stoic. His eyes were glued to a screen playing the entirety of Louisville’s offensive film at 139x speed, faster than any normal human could comprehend. That’s when I knew I had something special to report, and I had to go deeper than simple observation. It took a super-secret Pentagon safe word used to bring government agents out of their natural brain-washed state, ‘Linguini,’ to awaken the coach from his game-day preparation hibernation. 

    Narduzzi’s head snapped toward me with the incredible speed of someone snapping their head towards someone at an alarmingly fast rate. His eyes began to glow, a haunting shade of Pitt Royal™, HEX #003594.

A voice from deep within the Allegheny mountains rumbled to life and spoke from the language of the ancient gods, blasting directly into my temporal lobe: “Quid est bonum, fratrem?

“W-Well, your Duzziness,” I stuttered, trying and failing to maintain my composure and credibility in the face of greatness. “I have come before you to beg, to plead for a scoop. How have the Panthers grown into the greatest football team in football history, in such a short amount of football time? What’s the football secret- a new formation, a trick play, a UPMC-developed football steroid?”

Do not fear, my child. I was but a curious mortal once, as well. I will give you the answers you seek… for a price,” the coach said, a sly grin creeping across his face. 

“But of course, your Duzziness. Hell, I’d give an arm and a leg to learn the process behind the best football team in the wo-”

 I woke up in UPMC Presbyterian 4 days and 12 hours later, missing two of my most trusted and loved appendages. Sorry if the helicopter woke you up again, that was probably me. As my mind repaired itself from my encounter with such a powerful figure, I felt an object materialize in my pocket out of thin air. I reached down with my remaining arm and retrieved a note, a message from Patrick Narduzzi himself. Written with the blood of a Nittany lion (whatever that is), on ancient parchment made of the skin of a Mountaineer, the memorandum spoke thus:

Victory is not found in singular glory, or modern scheme

To win, one must score more points than the opposing team.

    My hippocampus began to shake, collapsing in on itself from the weight of pure godly knowledge that had just made its way into my brain. Every kind of doctor you can think of rushed into the room to try and save my life. An epinephrine injection directly into the brain stem, a defibrillator, and fourteen kinds of essential oils attempted to keep my very soul in its flesh casing, but all of them failed.

I write this account to you, dear reader, from the world beyond. I trust you with this message, and that you will use it to do good in the world. Just know that when January rolls around and Pitt is playoff-bound, the famed “Kenny Heisman” theorem of scoring more points than the other team, developed by Coach Narduzzi, and whatever Lovecraftian Yinzer lord lies within him, is what brought them there. Hail to Pitt.