That's Church

Part three of the Steelers holiday carols is up, this one featuring the offensive line and quarterbacks as well as the defensive backs.

First up, we have Benny leading a chorus of “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” and as per usual it is a suckfest of suck with no one really knowing the lyrics by heart.

In the words of Simon Cowell, “If you would be singing like this two thousand years ago, people would be stoning you.”

Also, my daughter watched this video with me and when the camera panned across and got to here, she pointed and asked, “Is that daddy?”

I laughed because my dark-skinned Mexican husband does vaguely have that look about him when he hasn’t shaved.

Then the camera panned to here and she pointed and asked, “Is that daddy?”

And then it dawned on me. She either thinks I am a giant slut, or she doesn’t have a clue what the word “daddy” means.

Next up, the defensive backs are singing “Santa Claus Goes Straight to the Ghetto” and IT IS AWESOME!

I mean Simon Cowell would tell them they have the “X” factor and Paula would be all [ecstatic drunken seal clap].

I don’t care if they release a video tomorrow of Coach Tomlin singing “Oh, Holy Night” with Jackie Evancho and the ghost of Myron Cope, the defensive backs WIN.

As you recall, my local post office had this sign taped near the mail slots:

Today, I walked into that same post office to mail a box and found this in its place:

I was aghast.

So I approached the lone employee at the mail desk and luckily for me, I was the only customer there.

Me: Hi! I need to mail this box and also, you know that sign by the mail slot? It used to say ‘gumbands’?

Donna, the USPS employee: [weary sigh] Yeah. I changed it.

Me: You did?! But why?!

Donna: Because people were giving me so much crap about it. ‘It’s not gumbands! It’s rubberbands!’ I got so sick and tired of hearing about it that I changed it.

Me: No! What’s wrong with people? This is Pittsburgh. We say gumbands! Look, I write for Pittsburgh Magazine and I featured a picture of that sign on my blog and we Burghers love it! Honestly! We support gumbands.

Donna: Well, damn it. In that case, I’m making a new sign and I’m changing it back to gumbands! Screw ‘em!

Me: GOD BLESS US, EVERY ONE!

So my work there is done.

Also, I mentioned to her about dropping the words “to be” and how people from most parts of the country would have put “need to be sorted.”

Pretty sure I blew her mind.

[awkward kung fu moves]

(h/t Rhonda who noticed it too!)

Here’s the second of four holiday videos from the Steelers, this one featuring the linebackers and the wide receivers, but all you need to know is this:

James Harrison can’t even sing a Christmas carol without looking like he wants to murder someone:

It’s okay to want your mommy. I do.

Siri is an app for the iPhone that features a female voice who helps you out with whatever you might need via voice recognition software. Movie times. Directions. Traffic. Weather. Reminders. Calendar. You name it.

Here’s a video imagining a Siri for yinzers and his name is Uncle Gordy:

Uncle Gordy > Siri

What part of any of that game made any damn sense?

Hmm?

I turned on my television at around 8:30 to find football commentators speaking with all the gravity of major news outlets reporting on an attempted assassination of the US President.

Furrowed brows.

Words like “remain calm” and “we’re going to get through this” and “have you prepared your End of Days kit?”

Chris Berman is channeling Peter Jennings.

The three on-site commentators, including Steve Young, are sitting in pitch blackness:

George Clooney, somewhere, is organizing a telethon to raise money for the victims. Sandra Bullock donates one million dollars.

The Red Cross flashes a number you can text to donate $10 to the victims of the disaster.

A great wall along Candlestick Park becomes a makeshift “Lost Persons” board as frantic relatives tack up pictures of the loved ones they lost sight of for the 30 minutes of horrifying darkness.

Grown men curse Apple and sob as their cell phones run out of juice, robbing them of the last vestiges of waning light.

Growing pandemonium. Fathers consider eating their young. Martial law is declared. The Terror Watch Threat Level is raised to red. The FAA grounds all flights.

Then, slowly, a flicker. A warmth. A glow. The lights are returning.

The commentators start giving their accounts on how they survived.

Steve Young admits he shit his pants as he was sprinting toward the middle of the field to protect himself from whatever impending disaster had been about to strike.

All of the world mocks the sissified Americans.

This is why the terrorists hate us.

Let’s talk football.

1. If the blackout didn’t tip you off that this was going to be a surreal game, maybe this did!

ESPN, for some reason we will never ever ever know, brought in ESPN Deportes reporter John Sutcliffe to serve as the sideline reporter for the game. That face right there is the same expression he would have if he won a trillion dollars in the lottery. That is the farthest reaches of his emotions. Of course, this could be because he was exerting so much effort to speak English.

Luckily for us, in such a horrifying tragedy of a game, John would be there to provide the Shakespearean comic relief.

His ESPN bio:

John Sutcliffe es reportero de SportsCenter, colaborador en ESPN Radio Fórmula y columnista de golf de ESPNdeportes.com.

Translated:

John Sutcliffe is a SportsCenter reporter, an ESPN Radio collaborator, and a golf columnist for ESPNDeportes.com. He also has an amazing head of luscious hair unseen since Jeff Jimerson started using volume-boosting shampoo.

That’s verbatim.

2. If Ben was walking like Thelma from Mama’s Family last week, this week he was walking like he had just been named the new Minister of Silly Walks.

He can’t take two steps with any semblance of normalcy and it reflected in his performance with three interceptions and two fumbles.

He never should have played. He was barely mobile and was risking much more serious injury. We lost with him; we probably would have lost without him. I thought they should have put Charlie in about midway through the third when we still had hope.

3. Speaking of hope. All is lost because suddenly, the lights are out again.

Steve Young is on his third pair of pants.

Somewhere in the dark, Charlie Batch fumes.

John Sutcliffe is stunned.

*I’ve seen Mexican hovels with better electricity.

Mike Tomlin tries to light the place with his badassitude alone:

Hines Ward stealthily reaches for his Life Alert:

SUCK IT, DEAD HORSE. I’LL NEVER STOP. NEVER. NEVER EVER EVER! GO CHOKE ON A WERTHERS!

They cut to the studio where Chris Berman is on the phone telling his wife to find a way to go on without him.

Then the lights come back on and shine their harshness on the suck that is this game.

Can we turn them off again?

4. I can sum up the remainder of the game in perfect fashion. Ready?

This is a game in which everyone did something, but no one did anything.

Lots of receivers catching balls, but no touchdowns.

Lots of yards thrown, but no touchdowns.

Lots of rushing, but no touchdowns.

Lots of tackles, but no takeaways.

Sean Suisham was good from 51, but bad from 48.

Excellent plays were made, but ridiculous penalties negated them.

John Sutcliffe tries to sum up the suck:

Um. Okay.

Anything else, John?

Can we keep this guy forever?

He is a great mind erase after so much Steelers suck.