Monthly Archives: January 2008

Will the circle be unbroken?

As police arrested one suspect and sought another in the shooting death Monday of a 12-year-old Perry South girl, authorities announced an intensified effort to combat a sharp upswing in gang violence.

Anthony “Tone Bone” Wilson, 30, was taken into custody without incident at his North Side home yesterday at 12:30 a.m. The other suspect, Michael “Meese” Gist, 15, of the North Side, remained at large. Detectives had hoped to take him into custody at McNaugher Middle School, where he is a student, but he didn’t show for classes.

Chief Harper said the suspects are members of the North Charles Street Crips, a gang violently feuding with the Tre 8’s gang from Perrysville. The house was shot at, Chief Harper said, in retaliation for some unnamed offense. A male relative of the victims who also was inside is believed to have been the target, he said.

“All it takes is for somebody to look at somebody the wrong way to ignite this kind of activity,” Assistant Chief Bryant said. “If you’re from Charles Street area you don’t come up to the Perrysville Area.”

A 15-year-old arrested for the murder of a smart, innocent 12-year-old girl after pumping 40 bullets into her house with an assault rifle. A 15-year-old middle-schooler armed to the teeth, riding the streets with a 30-year-old gang member, who if I had my way would fry tomorrow (me love killing, grrr).

What can you even say or write or think about this that would ever make it make one ounce of sense?  And besides, how can you speak, write or even think over the deafening, angry roar of the internal screaming that rises inside of you?

There’s nowhere to begin.  There’s no beginning point or ending point to grasp onto — to put into words the absolute futility of this violence.  There’s just a big circle that keeps spinning around and around, and how can any of us jump in and snap it open so that we can walk the line to the end?

We just can’t.

And that sense of hopelessness really really sucks.





Random n@.

1.  Two Random n@ posts in a row.  That’s just how I roll sometimes.

2.  My latest 80s/90s obsession is Bryan Adams.  HAWT!

3.  This post at Inner Bitch.  Holy crap, did that picture make me laugh.

4.   The latest video at T&A (this one a collaboration with Ms. Mon) might be Anthony’s most inspired, hilarious video yet.  If ever I meet Anthony, I am going to throw myself at his feet in hero-worship and maybe even self-unite him.  Also?  Oprah with Sally Wiggin hair is kinda hot.

5.   I mean, really, why is it so hard to find a girl that likes a guy that dresses in girls clothes?!  What is wrong with women these days?!?

6.   Oh, for the love of God.   Just, no.

7.   You know how some group called “Anonymous” (holy shit, that’s super original!) has declared war on scientology?  Well they’re planning a “raid” on the Pittsburgh Church of scientology on the South Side on February 9.  I don’t even know what they do at these “raids.”   While I am frickin’ scared of scientologists and the entire “religion” and if any member of my family ever even approaches a member of the “church” I would body-tackle that family member to the ground and drag him/her kicking and screaming to Western Psych, I certainly don’t support persecuting anyone because of their religion … as misguided and cult-ish and ludicrous OMG you believe an alien is hidden in a volcano and you blindly follow the teachings of a science-fiction writer that once said he’d like to start a religion just for the profit of it …  as that religion is (longest PittGirl sentence ever).

8.   This is pretty much how it feels when I walk down Smithfield. EVASIVE MANEUVERS!  EVASIVE MANEUVERS!  (h/t Jim)

9.   Mike Tomlin is the Victoria’s Secret Sexiest NFL Coach for 2008.  Abso-freakin’-lutely. (h/t TW)





Random n@.

1. So, yeah, I didn’t get to a single email last night. But I got to them this morning.

2. The PG’s series on the antiquated, monopolistic nature of the PLCB is a must read. There has been many a time that I have sat at my laptop and said, “PittGirl, you need to write down how you feel about the PLCB” only to have my brain fritz out from the overwhelming hate and hopelessness that wells up in me.

I will say this. If I were to run for Governor on the platform that I will make it my goal to disband the PLCB during my first term … who WOULDN’T vote for me?

3. Those evil hate-monging killing-machine developing geniuses at CMU (God, I love all of them, I do.) have a video series featuring Keepon, the little yellow adorable robot designed at CMU. Keepon, somehow through the magic of robotics and maybe some juju, can dance a wicked beat. This first one just cracked my shit up, especially the little purple headband. That was a nice touch.

Also, they should make a girlfriend for Keepon and they can call her ‘Sgoinon.

It’s meant to be.

This one rocks too, particularly the camera panning from “How to spot a hostile robot” over to little, dancing Keepon.

(h/t Mandy)

4. Repeat after me, “If some jagoff from Boston ever shows up in my place of getting my drink on and that jagoff is carrying a life-sized cardboard cutout fully illustrating the fug that is Tom Brady, I will light it afire.”

Thanks.

(h/t Jordan)

5. From a review of Mysteries of Pittsburgh at Sundance:

As for Pittsburgh itself, save one distinctive power plant, the setting is Anywhere, USA—”Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” is a greater ode to Chicago than this film is to its namesake.

Ouch.

6. From yesterday’s Cat’s Call:

DEAR CAT: I gave a friend a 30-ounce jar of colossal cashews for Christmas. Now he’s in the hospital with diverticulitis. I can’t stop thinking it’s my fault. Is it? — MAKING ME NUTS

DEAR NUTS: Cat’s Call: Only if you force-fed him.

Cat? Ya been punked, honey.

(h/t DW)

7. Cyril Wecht is so screwed.





He can’t possibly be this great, can he?

Before I launch into this post, I just wanted to take a minute and tell all you guys/girls that have emailed me lately that I’ve been very very bad in responding to some emails and golly I am going to get to them tonight. Promise. I’ll be in touch.

That said, reader Denise forwarded me this article about Sid and [sigh] [sigh] [SIGH] he’s just so awesome.

Some of the best snippets in addition to the Ellen/Chandler bit that is a must read:

  • All requests for Crosby’s time are filtered through the prism of, “How does this affect my teammates?”
  • Interviews and photo shoots often are carried out in the morning before other players arrive. “I don’t want to say I drag them down, but sometimes there are situations where they have to wait for me if I’m signing or people come to the table and things like that. It’s probably something I don’t want to put them through. So, it’s the best for everyone if we can kind of just pick our spots.”
  • For every comment Armstrong makes about the size of Crosby’s butt (“It’s kind of big”), Crosby will chide his friend about the way he eats and the noises he makes when he sleeps. “He rips me about the way I sleep because I’m a mouth breather,” Armstrong says. “He rips me to my face in front of the whole team. Can you believe that?”
  • “Yeah, I think that I’m pretty simple,” he said. “I think that’s part of just trying to be one of the guys, I think. I don’t want to stick out much. I think class is always something I was taught, so I just to try to do that.”
  • But Fleury does give us something. During a time when opposing players and critics were accusing Crosby of whining too much to officials, his teammates regularly hid baby clothes or baby shoes in Crosby’s dressing room stall.
  • After he signed a big endorsement deal with Reebok, the company wanted to send promotional material to Crosby. He said he didn’t want anything unless his teammates and staff got the same.
  • Crosby frequently keeps in contact with a wheelchair-bound girl from Montreal. When the Pens are in town, Crosby gets tickets for her and her family and always manages to spend some alone time with them. On one visit, Crosby invited her down for the morning skate. He gave her signed Pens gear and made sure players gave her high fives on their way to the ice.

I am as impressed with Sidney Crosby as I am scared for him. Really. How long can the kid stay normal?

Go read the whole article, yo.





Die! Die! Me love killing, grrr.

So yesterday afternoon I’m walking up Fifth Avenue, as I am wont to do, probably singing some Taylor Dayne song in my head and wondering when jelly shoes will come back in style, when I see a crowd of people hovering around the entrance to the Soup Man shop because apparently it was grand opening time. No big deal. Lovely.

Then, I spotted him. Him. Him was standing near the crowd with a big sign that I never got to read. Probably it said something like, “Hi. I’m the giantest vacuum of suck ever. Trademark PittGirl.”

That’s right.

Steely McBeam was at the grand opening of The Original Soup Man’s new location. And as I walked by, there were women — grown women, hot women, normal women — saying things like, “Hey, Steely!” or, “What’s up, Steely?” as if they were very pleased to meet you how do you do? Instead of kicking him in the beam, if you know what I mean.

My point is this.

Steely didn’t die along with the 75th season. The costumes were not thrown into the fires of hell the millisecond the clock ticked to zero during the Jags game as they should have been.

No, he’s still very much alive, all up in our business, besmirching the good, strong, we-don’t-need-no-mascots-or-cheerleaders name of the Pittsburgh Steelers.

As I walked by, very aware that I couldn’t snap a photo because it would be too risky, I thought to myself, “Where, o where is a giant flock of angry pigeons when I need one?”