Daughter Beth recently wrote on Facebook that what she truly was thankful for is - "there are only 6 days left in November for people to tell us what it is they are thankful for."
In my follow-up call to Beth for clarification she confirmed that the "thankfulness" she dislikes appeared to be that which is more maudlin than sincere.
My read was it was sort of a twist on "The Lady doth protest too much, methinks." (by Queen Gertrude in Hamlet.)
I think we can both agree that perhaps being thankful should exclude things like:
More Stores now being open on Black Thursday, being one of the first ten in line at CVS for a heavily discounted electronic naval cleaner or - receiving drunken Uncle Morey's hand printed note announcing his Thanksgiving Dinner regrets.
None of these "thanks" appear to be in the original Thanksgiving spirit of either Abe or FDR, regardless of their motivation.
My personal pet-peeve at this time of the year is "The Year In Review" a subject for which the media - like the store owners and their preferred shopping days - apparently are convinced should be moved up each year.
Their columns and articles inundating us with instant replay of 2013 seem to have started on or about September 1. Next, I fear will be the "First Six Months In Review."
It's stupid. The year still has more than a month to go. Like the possiblility of my life flashing in front of my eyes as a near death experience I would really rather pass on hearing anything more about 2013, particularly if it has anything to do with Justin Bieber or Myley Cyrus.
To me, it would be like, immediately after the first 100 days of Obama's presidency, asking their readers or viewers to make judgments as to his future success.
I suspect, at this time The Prez and First Lady Michelle were more pre-occupied with trying to locate the good silverware that mysteriously disappeared when the Bush family thoughtfully put it in storage.
I probably fear Alzheimers about as much as my peers, but does the media really believe that all of us old enough to be eligible for AARP membership have already been stricken by it.
While I'm at it, another recent "pet peeve" is the fear of the airlines dictating to us that we must now experience cellphone calls in flight.
In my case the concern is due to a term called "pleonasm" which I recently found by mistake while looking for something else.
It means - when applied to our current vernacular - having to listen to conversations like: "So he said - then I said - then she said", etc. (You may substitute the word "go" for "said" should you so desire.)
A final peeve was captured in a recent cartoon also forwarded to me by Beth via Facebook.
It shows a woman - young to middle age - with a smart phone in her hand announcing "I don't mind pressing one for English. I just want to be connected to someone who actually speaks English when I do!"
OK, I'm done.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Monday, November 25, 2013
OK,I'll Plagiarize - just a little
Friend Harry, has a blog called "The Old Thinker " found at http://harry2335.blogspot.com. I plagiarized something from him recently - but only after gaining his permission - and am about to do it again..
His recent interesting blog entitled "Why 2" got me thinking.
My wife and I are big fans of the detective shows - too many to list here - but we also are puzzled and post these questions like Harry.
Question 1: Why do the police/detectives FBI etc not slide up beside the accused bad guy before they announce who they are and order the alleged fugutive to stop in his tracks?
Answer: If they did, then we could not fill the show with those great chase scenes - where the bad guy throws shopping carts - umbrella stands - undocumented residents - bicycles - stacked canned goods displays - manequins - boxes containing 2 years supply of Cialis - bathtubs - etc in the path of the good guys who are attempting to apprehend him.
Question 2: Why do the good guys (above) spend so much time at the firing range so they can hit the center of the bullseye 9 out of 10 times from 150 feet , but, when chasing said suspect they always shoot him "dead" through the heart when he's in the 5 to 10 feet range?
Let's be honest here. They never - or hardly ever - manage to disarm him by shooting the bad guy in the hand which is holding the weapon - or in his dominant leg - which would cause him to fall down - and be cuffed; therefore allowing them to question him and immediately find out who the top bad dude was who put him up to their dastardly deeds?
Answer: If the guy was wounded and allowed to talk he would quickly name the true mastermind behind the series of crimes and the show would wrap up in 30 minutes instead of an hour. Some say that might tend to p.o. the sponsors who paid for a 60 minute show.
Question 3: What type of healing agent do they apply to the body of the good guy, who has just been stabbed or shot several times and generally had the snot beaten out of him by 5 really bad guys - two of whom had mysteriously discovered Monster Truck tire irons just lying around on a marble floor - particularly if 2 or 3 hours later the good guy hops out of his hospital bed - never trips over a bedpan - puts on his clothes effortlessly and flees out the hospital window - on the 14th floor - to promptly lead a long chase (see question 1) that results in the capture of the bad guy - by the good guy jumping off a 35 foot balcony on the mezzanine level of the Hotel Hilton and tackling him?
Answer: There is no ban on the use of HGH (human growth hormone) in cop shows.
OK Har, I just plagiarized a little. Keep dem questions coming pal.
His recent interesting blog entitled "Why 2" got me thinking.
My wife and I are big fans of the detective shows - too many to list here - but we also are puzzled and post these questions like Harry.
Question 1: Why do the police/detectives FBI etc not slide up beside the accused bad guy before they announce who they are and order the alleged fugutive to stop in his tracks?
Answer: If they did, then we could not fill the show with those great chase scenes - where the bad guy throws shopping carts - umbrella stands - undocumented residents - bicycles - stacked canned goods displays - manequins - boxes containing 2 years supply of Cialis - bathtubs - etc in the path of the good guys who are attempting to apprehend him.
Question 2: Why do the good guys (above) spend so much time at the firing range so they can hit the center of the bullseye 9 out of 10 times from 150 feet , but, when chasing said suspect they always shoot him "dead" through the heart when he's in the 5 to 10 feet range?
Let's be honest here. They never - or hardly ever - manage to disarm him by shooting the bad guy in the hand which is holding the weapon - or in his dominant leg - which would cause him to fall down - and be cuffed; therefore allowing them to question him and immediately find out who the top bad dude was who put him up to their dastardly deeds?
Answer: If the guy was wounded and allowed to talk he would quickly name the true mastermind behind the series of crimes and the show would wrap up in 30 minutes instead of an hour. Some say that might tend to p.o. the sponsors who paid for a 60 minute show.
Question 3: What type of healing agent do they apply to the body of the good guy, who has just been stabbed or shot several times and generally had the snot beaten out of him by 5 really bad guys - two of whom had mysteriously discovered Monster Truck tire irons just lying around on a marble floor - particularly if 2 or 3 hours later the good guy hops out of his hospital bed - never trips over a bedpan - puts on his clothes effortlessly and flees out the hospital window - on the 14th floor - to promptly lead a long chase (see question 1) that results in the capture of the bad guy - by the good guy jumping off a 35 foot balcony on the mezzanine level of the Hotel Hilton and tackling him?
Answer: There is no ban on the use of HGH (human growth hormone) in cop shows.
OK Har, I just plagiarized a little. Keep dem questions coming pal.
Probably a Good Move
A buddy of mine was explaining the other day why he always opens, reads his e-mail, and does what ever Publisher's Clearing House (PCH) instructs him to do.
"My wife left me last week and I miss having someone constantly attempting to make an ass out of me."
Years ago, I used to get those PCH sweepstakes notices in my snail mail and duly affix my signature to the numbers contained inside the mailing while returning one copy to PCH.
Sad to report but the Prize Patrol never came to my home and I continued to write those bad checks.
About six weeks ago I discovered, included in my spam, a new and improved method of PCH contacting me in order to assure I did not miss out on receiving: $7,000 a week for the rest of my life, free weekly foot massages by THOR, or something entitled "The Best Of Nixon".
I filled it out and promptly returned it after checking my CD library and confirming I had had nothing by Marni Nixon - or Audrey Hepburn, for that matter.
Big Mistake!
Now PCH has informed me ( via their two, three, sometimes 4 times a day correspondence) that I should be excited, as I been awarded the winning ticket in the drawing to determine who is their official BFF.
Now, I know what that means in computer shorthand, however I suspect their BFF is something entirely different.
(and yes, I could stand to lose more than just a few pounds)
Happy Monday!
"My wife left me last week and I miss having someone constantly attempting to make an ass out of me."
Years ago, I used to get those PCH sweepstakes notices in my snail mail and duly affix my signature to the numbers contained inside the mailing while returning one copy to PCH.
Sad to report but the Prize Patrol never came to my home and I continued to write those bad checks.
About six weeks ago I discovered, included in my spam, a new and improved method of PCH contacting me in order to assure I did not miss out on receiving: $7,000 a week for the rest of my life, free weekly foot massages by THOR, or something entitled "The Best Of Nixon".
I filled it out and promptly returned it after checking my CD library and confirming I had had nothing by Marni Nixon - or Audrey Hepburn, for that matter.
Big Mistake!
Now PCH has informed me ( via their two, three, sometimes 4 times a day correspondence) that I should be excited, as I been awarded the winning ticket in the drawing to determine who is their official BFF.
Now, I know what that means in computer shorthand, however I suspect their BFF is something entirely different.
(and yes, I could stand to lose more than just a few pounds)
Happy Monday!
Monday, November 18, 2013
Johnny Inkslinger
Johnny Inkslinger - the so-called mythical accountant for equally mythical logsplitter Paul Bunyan - was one of my favorite heros as a child. Maybe it was because my Dad played the numbers too, but, I think it was much more than that.
Johnny was a Timekeeper. His name, Inkslinger, came from the logger word for camp clerk.
It is said Johnny invented figures and bookkeeping to replace the crude method by Bunyan for keeping accounts by notching trees. Supposedly Inkslinger invented Accounting also by connecting his newly invented pen to a barrel of ink with a rubber hose.
It was claimed that one year he saved 9 barrels of ink by simply not crossing the (t-s) nor dotting the ( i-s). But, the loggers were suspicious of him as they accused him of using a split pen to record the tobacco and socks they bought.
I share their suspicions even today- and believe the recently approved expanded use of instant replay into baseball is only one example of how pencil pushers - number crunchers - and inkslingers are spoiling what was indeed my favorite national pasttime - baseball.
I am here to assure you that few umpires have ever gone to Hell by blowing a ball and strike call while attempting to judge where the agate ended up in the vicinity of home plate.
Similarly, there are no reports of umpire hanging - even in beloved Mudville - because an umpire closed one eye as he judged which side of the foul pole the baseball passed.
Folks, it is okay to make a mistake - maybe even three or four of them. Nobody has died as a result of failing to note that the foot of the second baseman was nowhere near the bag when he was allegedly turning a double-play.
Here is one guy who is convinced we have evolved into a nation where we fail to understand the Law of Diminishing Returns. We are hellbent on achieving zero tolerance for the word MAYBE.
It would be nice to think that the reasoning for doing so is spiritual. Perhaps that is because in the cursory reading of my Bible over the years I cannot recall in the Gospels where Jesus is quoted as saying - ON THE OTHER HAND!
No, I do but jest. It is definitely not about religion - at least the type we grew up with.
It IS about this incessant quest to make everything numerically and mathmatically perfect, particularly if by doing so we can convert the result into the making of money - another religion altogether.
To the best of my (again) limited knowledge there is only one individual who can honestly lay claim to the character trait - Perfect - and his people killed him for it.
Does anybody truly believe that in this engorging emergence of cyberspace and miniscule manifestations that the calling of balls and strikes will not be eventually performed by machines despite all protestations to the contrary?
Come on folks!
Do not tell this old fart, who loves to reminisce about - and sometimes savor - the imperfect times in which he grew up, that you experienced baseball fans out there really did not enjoy watching Leo Durocher kicking dirt on the shoes of the men in blue!
I did not think so.
So let us not even venture to wonder if Johnny Inkslinger actually existed or Paul Bunyan really scooped out the Great Lakes to supply Babe his Blue Ox with drinking water.
Instead, please join me in my Don Quixote quest for traditionalism.
If you choose not to do it for me - do it for Cervantes!
Johnny was a Timekeeper. His name, Inkslinger, came from the logger word for camp clerk.
It is said Johnny invented figures and bookkeeping to replace the crude method by Bunyan for keeping accounts by notching trees. Supposedly Inkslinger invented Accounting also by connecting his newly invented pen to a barrel of ink with a rubber hose.
It was claimed that one year he saved 9 barrels of ink by simply not crossing the (t-s) nor dotting the ( i-s). But, the loggers were suspicious of him as they accused him of using a split pen to record the tobacco and socks they bought.
I share their suspicions even today- and believe the recently approved expanded use of instant replay into baseball is only one example of how pencil pushers - number crunchers - and inkslingers are spoiling what was indeed my favorite national pasttime - baseball.
I am here to assure you that few umpires have ever gone to Hell by blowing a ball and strike call while attempting to judge where the agate ended up in the vicinity of home plate.
Similarly, there are no reports of umpire hanging - even in beloved Mudville - because an umpire closed one eye as he judged which side of the foul pole the baseball passed.
Folks, it is okay to make a mistake - maybe even three or four of them. Nobody has died as a result of failing to note that the foot of the second baseman was nowhere near the bag when he was allegedly turning a double-play.
Here is one guy who is convinced we have evolved into a nation where we fail to understand the Law of Diminishing Returns. We are hellbent on achieving zero tolerance for the word MAYBE.
It would be nice to think that the reasoning for doing so is spiritual. Perhaps that is because in the cursory reading of my Bible over the years I cannot recall in the Gospels where Jesus is quoted as saying - ON THE OTHER HAND!
No, I do but jest. It is definitely not about religion - at least the type we grew up with.
It IS about this incessant quest to make everything numerically and mathmatically perfect, particularly if by doing so we can convert the result into the making of money - another religion altogether.
To the best of my (again) limited knowledge there is only one individual who can honestly lay claim to the character trait - Perfect - and his people killed him for it.
Does anybody truly believe that in this engorging emergence of cyberspace and miniscule manifestations that the calling of balls and strikes will not be eventually performed by machines despite all protestations to the contrary?
Come on folks!
Do not tell this old fart, who loves to reminisce about - and sometimes savor - the imperfect times in which he grew up, that you experienced baseball fans out there really did not enjoy watching Leo Durocher kicking dirt on the shoes of the men in blue!
I did not think so.
So let us not even venture to wonder if Johnny Inkslinger actually existed or Paul Bunyan really scooped out the Great Lakes to supply Babe his Blue Ox with drinking water.
Instead, please join me in my Don Quixote quest for traditionalism.
If you choose not to do it for me - do it for Cervantes!
The Simple Things
It is just too easy nowadays for me to to write strictly negative stuff. So, I am trying to reform.
A friend e-mailed us today to report that her young grandson Ethan recently completed an oral book report on the life of Noah Webster.
At the end of the report the grandson announced that Mr. Webster had died - and promptly fell to the floor for emphasis.
Move over Mark Twain. This is a REAL storyteller.
___________________
Could not get the Steelers game at home so we went to Trumans - a local haunt - slightly upscale - and found corner seats at the bar directly in front of their big bright TV.
It was our favorite spot for watching the Pirates earlier in the year and now the Steelers - both of which we do not get on local TV very often.
The TV set is sheltered from the light as the contractors recessed it into the wall and placed it strategically so even the heavy door traffic - with the constant opening and closing of the side door - does not interfere with our viewing pleasure.
Picture was great. I know this to be true as I was drinking iced tea throughout the first half.
Having watched cornerback Ike Taylor experiencing a truly miserable half by cementing his reputation for possessing hands of stone as he tried to cover magnificient Detroit receiver Calvin Johnson,(basically by himself), I realized a change in defensive strategy was clearly in order.
So, I ordered a Pinot Grigio.
It was a simple adjustment and seemed to please the bartender since he no longer had to keep running back to the kitchen to retrieve my iced teas on an extremely busy day.
It also worked.
Taylor got some help -Johnson caught no more touchdowns - and the Steelers had a come from behind victory that raised their record to a magnificent 4 and 6.
There are a lot of team-support strategies out there. You may want to try the Pinot Grigio Switch if your favorite team is behind at halftime.
You see, it really is the simple things that make old farts happy.
A friend e-mailed us today to report that her young grandson Ethan recently completed an oral book report on the life of Noah Webster.
At the end of the report the grandson announced that Mr. Webster had died - and promptly fell to the floor for emphasis.
Move over Mark Twain. This is a REAL storyteller.
___________________
Could not get the Steelers game at home so we went to Trumans - a local haunt - slightly upscale - and found corner seats at the bar directly in front of their big bright TV.
It was our favorite spot for watching the Pirates earlier in the year and now the Steelers - both of which we do not get on local TV very often.
The TV set is sheltered from the light as the contractors recessed it into the wall and placed it strategically so even the heavy door traffic - with the constant opening and closing of the side door - does not interfere with our viewing pleasure.
Picture was great. I know this to be true as I was drinking iced tea throughout the first half.
Having watched cornerback Ike Taylor experiencing a truly miserable half by cementing his reputation for possessing hands of stone as he tried to cover magnificient Detroit receiver Calvin Johnson,(basically by himself), I realized a change in defensive strategy was clearly in order.
So, I ordered a Pinot Grigio.
It was a simple adjustment and seemed to please the bartender since he no longer had to keep running back to the kitchen to retrieve my iced teas on an extremely busy day.
It also worked.
Taylor got some help -Johnson caught no more touchdowns - and the Steelers had a come from behind victory that raised their record to a magnificent 4 and 6.
There are a lot of team-support strategies out there. You may want to try the Pinot Grigio Switch if your favorite team is behind at halftime.
You see, it really is the simple things that make old farts happy.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
MY NEW BFF
MY new BFF - or as the kids say - Best Friend Forever - has sadly become none other than PCH - formerly known as Publishers Clearing House.
On a slow news day in the Sullivan house I committed an incredibly dumb mistake.
Some background is in order. In prior years we all - except those who were not qualified -(whoever the hell those poor souls might be) were recipients ONCE a year of an invitation to receive coupons that would put you in the running via filling out the enclosed coupons guaranteed to make you eligible to win great prizes if you would only mail them back to PCH.
Should you have that once in 10 million (or whatever) opportunity to win thus having the PCH come to your house - with video cameras - klieg lights etc - and supposedly surprise you with the amazing news that you were a Publishing Clearing house as the carrot of the mailing.
PCH is now much more sophisticated. They are a little like the guy back in the 70s who came up to you in the bar beseeching you to lend him $5. Depending on how much scotch I had consumed or the amount of my winnings on the pool table I would occasionally kiss my in the bar to whom you lent $5 and snf eho now stalks you for another fivere dslkd you4
Saturday, November 9, 2013
TWO OBSERVANT FRIENDS
A growing trend today is the increasing number of writers found guilty of plagiarism - using words from someone else as if they were their own? There would appear to be enough words to go around.
After all, if we can make up thousands of songs out of FACE & EGBDF and variations of about 8 basic notes, why would we have to stoop to stealing words?
Despite this I am about to PLAGIARIZE using the words from one of my favorite blog writers, Harry Pierson http://harry2335.blogspot.com/
Harry is a fellow senior with similar observations as myself, but fortunately for Harry and his readers,it takes him much fewer words to let you know what they are.
We also both have different writing styles, but even with advancing age, we easily recall the lessons taught by family, school, church, and our life experiences. We may not remember where we put our car keys but refuse to forget those teachings.
As a result, one of us anyway, is contemplating acquiring a forehead tattoo similar to those used in ancient times to identify the crude and lewd. My tat will simply be that of a question mark (?) and not just to emphasize the hairline that keeps rising.
I think it is not out of line to conclude that much of what my friend and I are observing just does not make sense to us. Take cellphones and social media in general as an example.
Here are just a few questions I plagiarize from a recent blog by Harry entitled: WHY?:
Why do people think we like to hear them talking on a cell phone?
Why are 50% of the people coming and going from stores on a cell?
Why do most people talk loud on their cell phones?
Why do they have to talk on their cell phones while shopping?
And, perhaps my favorite question: Why is the first person in line at a light always texting when the light changes?
We are baffled at what we see as a strange dysfunctional compulsion to always be in communication with another? I threw up my hands - (and part of my breakfast) the other day when I heard this well dressed woman on her cellphone at Publix advising her doggie it was time to go to the potty.
OK, I made that up. Maybe it was Walmart.
But, I am sure she had Rover on speed dial.
Why is it so important to be able to demonstrate how many friends one has on Facebook?
How many will lend you money in a pinch - bring over food when you or one of your loved ones is ill - pull your weeds if you are a snowbird - brush the snow off your garage roof back home while you are gone -send you a thank you CARD - or be upfront with you when you are acting like a damn fool?
How many of your FRIENDS will De-FRIEND you at the slightest hint that you might have dissed them or wrote something with which they disagree?
I used to think the measure of knowing you had friends was simply by observing the number of smiles on the faces of people when you walked into a room.
Later I learned to temper that observation by immediately checking to see if I had remembered to fully employ my zipper and/or remove any trailing toilet paper from my shoe.
So, if you also choose to adopt my self-made FRIEND recognition tool, do not stop at the restroom immediately before entering.
If you do however, you may be surprised to observe the amazing number of YOUR FRIENDS who immediately pick up their cellphones to update THEIR FRIENDS.
After all, if we can make up thousands of songs out of FACE & EGBDF and variations of about 8 basic notes, why would we have to stoop to stealing words?
Despite this I am about to PLAGIARIZE using the words from one of my favorite blog writers, Harry Pierson http://harry2335.blogspot.com/
Harry is a fellow senior with similar observations as myself, but fortunately for Harry and his readers,it takes him much fewer words to let you know what they are.
We also both have different writing styles, but even with advancing age, we easily recall the lessons taught by family, school, church, and our life experiences. We may not remember where we put our car keys but refuse to forget those teachings.
As a result, one of us anyway, is contemplating acquiring a forehead tattoo similar to those used in ancient times to identify the crude and lewd. My tat will simply be that of a question mark (?) and not just to emphasize the hairline that keeps rising.
I think it is not out of line to conclude that much of what my friend and I are observing just does not make sense to us. Take cellphones and social media in general as an example.
Here are just a few questions I plagiarize from a recent blog by Harry entitled: WHY?:
Why do people think we like to hear them talking on a cell phone?
Why are 50% of the people coming and going from stores on a cell?
Why do most people talk loud on their cell phones?
Why do they have to talk on their cell phones while shopping?
And, perhaps my favorite question: Why is the first person in line at a light always texting when the light changes?
We are baffled at what we see as a strange dysfunctional compulsion to always be in communication with another? I threw up my hands - (and part of my breakfast) the other day when I heard this well dressed woman on her cellphone at Publix advising her doggie it was time to go to the potty.
OK, I made that up. Maybe it was Walmart.
But, I am sure she had Rover on speed dial.
Why is it so important to be able to demonstrate how many friends one has on Facebook?
How many will lend you money in a pinch - bring over food when you or one of your loved ones is ill - pull your weeds if you are a snowbird - brush the snow off your garage roof back home while you are gone -send you a thank you CARD - or be upfront with you when you are acting like a damn fool?
How many of your FRIENDS will De-FRIEND you at the slightest hint that you might have dissed them or wrote something with which they disagree?
I used to think the measure of knowing you had friends was simply by observing the number of smiles on the faces of people when you walked into a room.
Later I learned to temper that observation by immediately checking to see if I had remembered to fully employ my zipper and/or remove any trailing toilet paper from my shoe.
So, if you also choose to adopt my self-made FRIEND recognition tool, do not stop at the restroom immediately before entering.
If you do however, you may be surprised to observe the amazing number of YOUR FRIENDS who immediately pick up their cellphones to update THEIR FRIENDS.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
HENNY PENNY TIME?
This is normally the time of year - halfway through the season - when we Steeler fans start to follow any team in our division that might possibly appear to present a challenge to us reaching the playoffs.
Not necessary now!
At 2 and 6 we appear to have little chance of beating anyone but The Little Sisters Of The Poor - or maybe on a good day - Jacksonville and Tampa. Unfortunately, none of them are on our schedule this year.
We appear to be well on the way to the road to Oblivion, rumored to be a small town on the outskirts of Wilmerding. Like Heaven, it is quite difficult to pinpoint an exact location - but we are almost there.
I know the kingdom of Oblivion exists because many of the prime occupants: Henny Penny, (a/k/a Chicken Licken or Chicken Little) Ducky Wucky, Turkey Lurky, Foxy Loxy, and possibly even Goosey Loosey, are quite vocal as to all things Steelers-like.
They remain puzzled as to whether or not to tell the King of their latest discovery: the Steelers win/loss record, a more dastardly threat to the kingdom than could ever have been imagined by Snively Whiplash for that wiseass squirrel and his bucktoothed partner; the moose.
Unfortunately, though they differ as to causation for the Steeler calamity, all these kingdom residents are agreed that the sky must be falling. They are not alone. Some of their clan have apparently moved to Pittsburgh proper.
As one Steeler fan who faithfully watched the Steeler/Patriots game - all the way through- I finally decided that my decision to do so resulted in cruelty that upstaged what ever bullying tactics Richie Incognito had on his menu.
Sad to report Henny, etc. but, the sky is not falling - we just stink and have for some time now.
Contrary to the conclusion reached by one pundit in attempting to explain away our increasing number of home losses, it has nothing to do with a suspected recipe change for the Pierogies served to the team as a pre-game meal.
Everybody is sure they have come up with that one true accurate explanation.
Included in this analysis is faulty coaching- the advanced age of the players - new guys who do not understand the Steelers tradition - the noticeable reduction in mobility for their quarterback - receivers and quarterback who are not on the same page - a defense that has a phobia about interceptions - runners who appear to have left their skills in the weight room - and injuries to the offensive line, the severity of which has not been seen since the implosion of the Republican Party.
But, the true answer to our multiple choice question may well be #5 - All Of The Above.
A search for a single important cause via the critics conjectures will be as futile as this writer trying to prioritize the reasons St.Peter will no doubt flag me and send me to very hot showers on that last great day.
There are just too many factors in the Steelers fall from grace for any of us to accurately pinpoint the main reason we might finally be able to get a home game ticket at a reasonable price (gratis?) this year.
Conclusion: As a professional football team - we suck. As a semi-pro team - its still iffy. This years on-field performances (or lack of same) suggest at seasons end (almost any day now) the Steeler organization and our new Mayor should designate a parade to Heinz Field for a ticketholder tailgate party menu consisting solely of Brussel Sprouts and Spam.
Now, that IS cruelty!
If you can possibly agree with the truism I have layed on you, why not give Henny Penny a holler?
And remind her, it is only a game. The sky is fine.
At 2 and 6 we appear to have little chance of beating anyone but The Little Sisters Of The Poor - or maybe on a good day - Jacksonville and Tampa. Unfortunately, none of them are on our schedule this year.
We appear to be well on the way to the road to Oblivion, rumored to be a small town on the outskirts of Wilmerding. Like Heaven, it is quite difficult to pinpoint an exact location - but we are almost there.
I know the kingdom of Oblivion exists because many of the prime occupants: Henny Penny, (a/k/a Chicken Licken or Chicken Little) Ducky Wucky, Turkey Lurky, Foxy Loxy, and possibly even Goosey Loosey, are quite vocal as to all things Steelers-like.
They remain puzzled as to whether or not to tell the King of their latest discovery: the Steelers win/loss record, a more dastardly threat to the kingdom than could ever have been imagined by Snively Whiplash for that wiseass squirrel and his bucktoothed partner; the moose.
Unfortunately, though they differ as to causation for the Steeler calamity, all these kingdom residents are agreed that the sky must be falling. They are not alone. Some of their clan have apparently moved to Pittsburgh proper.
As one Steeler fan who faithfully watched the Steeler/Patriots game - all the way through- I finally decided that my decision to do so resulted in cruelty that upstaged what ever bullying tactics Richie Incognito had on his menu.
Sad to report Henny, etc. but, the sky is not falling - we just stink and have for some time now.
Contrary to the conclusion reached by one pundit in attempting to explain away our increasing number of home losses, it has nothing to do with a suspected recipe change for the Pierogies served to the team as a pre-game meal.
Everybody is sure they have come up with that one true accurate explanation.
Included in this analysis is faulty coaching- the advanced age of the players - new guys who do not understand the Steelers tradition - the noticeable reduction in mobility for their quarterback - receivers and quarterback who are not on the same page - a defense that has a phobia about interceptions - runners who appear to have left their skills in the weight room - and injuries to the offensive line, the severity of which has not been seen since the implosion of the Republican Party.
But, the true answer to our multiple choice question may well be #5 - All Of The Above.
A search for a single important cause via the critics conjectures will be as futile as this writer trying to prioritize the reasons St.Peter will no doubt flag me and send me to very hot showers on that last great day.
There are just too many factors in the Steelers fall from grace for any of us to accurately pinpoint the main reason we might finally be able to get a home game ticket at a reasonable price (gratis?) this year.
Conclusion: As a professional football team - we suck. As a semi-pro team - its still iffy. This years on-field performances (or lack of same) suggest at seasons end (almost any day now) the Steeler organization and our new Mayor should designate a parade to Heinz Field for a ticketholder tailgate party menu consisting solely of Brussel Sprouts and Spam.
Now, that IS cruelty!
If you can possibly agree with the truism I have layed on you, why not give Henny Penny a holler?
And remind her, it is only a game. The sky is fine.
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