Ben Roethlisberger recently signed a $102 million contract extension with the Pittsburgh Steelers. Reporters from several local television stations hit the streets to interview residents and record their reactions. All of the responses aired went something like this:
“I think it’s great! [Ben’s] gotta stay in Pittsburgh.”
I was disturbed that not a single person was aired saying something like:
“What the hell?! He’s getting paid $102 million while most of us are nearly starving and losing our homes? Shit!”
I’d like to imagine that a few people had the nerve to say something to this order. And if someone did say that, it may have been a good idea that the station didn’t air it because that person would most likely be hunted down by a logically weak, retard strong fan!
Big Stupid Ben is now the highest paid Steeler in franchise history. It’s a sad day for mankind when a man is honored with such riches for playing a ball game.
I’m sorry, but this is how I really feel. How many of you are barely scraping by to make ends meet? How many of you are trying to feed your kids on shitty wages? How many of you have to work for a living and not play games?
I feel that it’s a moral injustice that a football player makes such a large sum of money. This is only broadening the gap between the rich and… well… us.
I don’t ask much from anyone, but I do ask this: Please do not support this $102 million contract. It’s hurting all of us because a couple of wealthy jerks want a younger, stronger jerk to throw a ball for eight more years.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Myron Cope
I was saddened to learn that Myron Cope, broadcaster/writer, passed away early this morning. I admired him as a writer and performer.
Call me egotistical, but there were quite a few similarities between Mr. Cope and myself. We graduated from The University of Pittsburgh, yearning to become writers (and having a difficult time selling our work). He was famous for his eccentric personality and I’m…well… infamous for mine!
I had the honor of meeting Myron at The University of Pittsburgh’s Bookstore at a book signing of his memoir Double Yoi!. I waited in line for the longest time but I didn’t care (and I absolutely hate lines). When I was the fourth person in line, I could hear Myron asking those ahead of me if they were Steeler fans. I began to think, “Oh great, he’s going to write something about the Steelers in my book.”
When it was my turn to share a moment with Myron, I was surprised that he did not mention anything about the Steelers! It was as if he knew I was there solely for the admiration of his career – of someone who took their writing skills to the next level and beyond. Without saying much of anything, Myron wrote on the inside of my book:
To Jon –
Thanks for wanting to share my experiences. I hope you enjoy these pages.
Myron Cope
He was a truly unique man, which made for an awesome broadcaster, writer and entertainer.
Thanks, Myron, for your inspiration.
Call me egotistical, but there were quite a few similarities between Mr. Cope and myself. We graduated from The University of Pittsburgh, yearning to become writers (and having a difficult time selling our work). He was famous for his eccentric personality and I’m…well… infamous for mine!
I had the honor of meeting Myron at The University of Pittsburgh’s Bookstore at a book signing of his memoir Double Yoi!. I waited in line for the longest time but I didn’t care (and I absolutely hate lines). When I was the fourth person in line, I could hear Myron asking those ahead of me if they were Steeler fans. I began to think, “Oh great, he’s going to write something about the Steelers in my book.”
When it was my turn to share a moment with Myron, I was surprised that he did not mention anything about the Steelers! It was as if he knew I was there solely for the admiration of his career – of someone who took their writing skills to the next level and beyond. Without saying much of anything, Myron wrote on the inside of my book:
To Jon –
Thanks for wanting to share my experiences. I hope you enjoy these pages.
Myron Cope
He was a truly unique man, which made for an awesome broadcaster, writer and entertainer.
Thanks, Myron, for your inspiration.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Goo-ru
I’ve been discharging thick brown ooze from my mouth for the last few days. It tastes like infection.
The other day it felt as if the ooze was going to explode through my ears each time I swallowed. My head was filled with the brown and it hurt.
As I drove home from work the other day, the brown had reached my ears, thus clogging them. I tried feverishly to pop my ears while maneuvering traffic – opening my mouth wide as if I was trying to yawn. I did this several times in succession. To onlookers I must have looked like I was having a psychotic episode, biting at an invisible fairy that only I could see.
When I reached the driveway, I squeezed my nose and blew – a last-ditch effort to clear my head. This relieved some of the pressure with a good squeak, but totally clogged my left ear to the point where I could hardly hear anything through it.
I stumbled into the house, a little off balance since my equilibrium was off. I warmed up a microwave heating pad full of beans to help melt the brown gunk clogging my left ear.
I then laid down for a very short nap with my head on top of the bean-filled pad only to wake up with my ear still out of commission. This sent me into a brief panic to the point where I placed the bean bag into the microwave for another two minutes. Meanwhile, I panicked a little more and shoved a granola bar into my face.
When the two minutes were up, the entire house smelled like roasted beans, which then started to make me nauseous. I tried to lie on the bag once more only to burn my face. It was really hot!
Shortly after this brief but powerful episode, Laura came home and suggested that we make a visit to Med Express on Greentree Road.
For those of you unfamiliar with Med Express, let me just say that it’s a convenient little doctor’s office that accepts walk-ins until 9:00 PM. Emergencies are their specialty, but they do not charge Emergency Room rates! Go, Med Express!
To make an unnecessarily long story slightly shorter, the doctor’s diagnosis proved my original theory. I had an infection. She prescribed some penicillin and ear drops and sent me on my merry way.
I took off work today to try and catch my balance – and it was worth it. I haven’t tried to enhance my hearing through ear-popping since last night (at least not as enthusiastically).
The other day it felt as if the ooze was going to explode through my ears each time I swallowed. My head was filled with the brown and it hurt.
As I drove home from work the other day, the brown had reached my ears, thus clogging them. I tried feverishly to pop my ears while maneuvering traffic – opening my mouth wide as if I was trying to yawn. I did this several times in succession. To onlookers I must have looked like I was having a psychotic episode, biting at an invisible fairy that only I could see.
When I reached the driveway, I squeezed my nose and blew – a last-ditch effort to clear my head. This relieved some of the pressure with a good squeak, but totally clogged my left ear to the point where I could hardly hear anything through it.
I stumbled into the house, a little off balance since my equilibrium was off. I warmed up a microwave heating pad full of beans to help melt the brown gunk clogging my left ear.
I then laid down for a very short nap with my head on top of the bean-filled pad only to wake up with my ear still out of commission. This sent me into a brief panic to the point where I placed the bean bag into the microwave for another two minutes. Meanwhile, I panicked a little more and shoved a granola bar into my face.
When the two minutes were up, the entire house smelled like roasted beans, which then started to make me nauseous. I tried to lie on the bag once more only to burn my face. It was really hot!
Shortly after this brief but powerful episode, Laura came home and suggested that we make a visit to Med Express on Greentree Road.
For those of you unfamiliar with Med Express, let me just say that it’s a convenient little doctor’s office that accepts walk-ins until 9:00 PM. Emergencies are their specialty, but they do not charge Emergency Room rates! Go, Med Express!
To make an unnecessarily long story slightly shorter, the doctor’s diagnosis proved my original theory. I had an infection. She prescribed some penicillin and ear drops and sent me on my merry way.
I took off work today to try and catch my balance – and it was worth it. I haven’t tried to enhance my hearing through ear-popping since last night (at least not as enthusiastically).
Monday, February 4, 2008
Wise Guys
I have a couple of wise guys in my mouth. They’re my wisdom teeth, silly!
That’s right. I have two wisdom teeth coming in from the top and they’re scheduled for extraction this Friday, and I’m nearly having a panic attack over the whole ordeal. I’ve already had two nightmares about it.
Since the initial consultation with the oral surgeon, I’ve been in a downward spiral of doubt and fear – especially after I found out that I would be lightly sedated via an IV. Now, the lightly sedated part was my idea, but I was hoping for nitrous oxide or “goofy gas” to do the trick. I’ve never had an IV before and the idea freaks me out. The surgeon tried to set my mind at ease.
“Have you ever had an IV before?”
No.
“Have you given blood before?”
No.
“Okay.”
He was unable to explain the IV experience, but apparently it’s like giving blood (something else I can’t bring myself to do).
Every other minute, I whine to Laura about my “struggle” and she does her best to set my mind at ease. She puts the whole thing into perspective by reminding me that I have to get them out of my head to avoid any potential infections or crooked teeth. It’s true – I don’t want to look like a horse in our wedding photos.
I have no idea as to why I’m such a sissy. I was so much braver at 17 when I had my bottom wisdom teeth removed.
I’m such a tooth fairy.
That’s right. I have two wisdom teeth coming in from the top and they’re scheduled for extraction this Friday, and I’m nearly having a panic attack over the whole ordeal. I’ve already had two nightmares about it.
Since the initial consultation with the oral surgeon, I’ve been in a downward spiral of doubt and fear – especially after I found out that I would be lightly sedated via an IV. Now, the lightly sedated part was my idea, but I was hoping for nitrous oxide or “goofy gas” to do the trick. I’ve never had an IV before and the idea freaks me out. The surgeon tried to set my mind at ease.
“Have you ever had an IV before?”
No.
“Have you given blood before?”
No.
“Okay.”
He was unable to explain the IV experience, but apparently it’s like giving blood (something else I can’t bring myself to do).
Every other minute, I whine to Laura about my “struggle” and she does her best to set my mind at ease. She puts the whole thing into perspective by reminding me that I have to get them out of my head to avoid any potential infections or crooked teeth. It’s true – I don’t want to look like a horse in our wedding photos.
I have no idea as to why I’m such a sissy. I was so much braver at 17 when I had my bottom wisdom teeth removed.
I’m such a tooth fairy.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Still Writing. Still Getting Married.
Still writing. Still getting married.
I feel somewhat guilty for abandoning my post lately. I mean, isn’t my civic duty as a writer to write – and write on a consistent basis?
I’ve been attempting to write several articles and essays at one time, and I’m having trouble following through with my ideas. I simply have too many!
I tried to get write an article on internships and an essay on memory while at a Panera Bread in the Cranberry area this Sunday. (I was super fancy too since I had a laptop!)
I got a good bit of writing accomplished that afternoon – my work was actually taking form. However, a group of giggling tweenage girls occupied a table behind me while I was “on a roll.” The girls kept coercing each other to somehow get my attention and talk to me. They thought I was cute.
“Her name is Ashley,” one of them said behind me. “Her number is 555-6969!”
Then they started talking about how one of the girls was “STD free,” which got me wondering, “Only one girl?” Yes, they were sexually perverted, but you can’t really blame them. They’re just a product of their environment.
I continued writing as best I could although I could feel around six pairs of eyes on my ass.
I feel somewhat guilty for abandoning my post lately. I mean, isn’t my civic duty as a writer to write – and write on a consistent basis?
I’ve been attempting to write several articles and essays at one time, and I’m having trouble following through with my ideas. I simply have too many!
I tried to get write an article on internships and an essay on memory while at a Panera Bread in the Cranberry area this Sunday. (I was super fancy too since I had a laptop!)
I got a good bit of writing accomplished that afternoon – my work was actually taking form. However, a group of giggling tweenage girls occupied a table behind me while I was “on a roll.” The girls kept coercing each other to somehow get my attention and talk to me. They thought I was cute.
“Her name is Ashley,” one of them said behind me. “Her number is 555-6969!”
Then they started talking about how one of the girls was “STD free,” which got me wondering, “Only one girl?” Yes, they were sexually perverted, but you can’t really blame them. They’re just a product of their environment.
I continued writing as best I could although I could feel around six pairs of eyes on my ass.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Fire of Desire
Lately, I’ve been yearning to become more active – in all aspects. I want to play a larger role in everything I’m involved with – in everything I enjoy.
I can’t pinpoint the reason for this feeling (nor is the reason important) but for the last week or so, it’s been overwhelming. I’m sensing a major change, but what exactly is it? Could it be my upcoming wedding? A change to my career?
Contrary to what many of you see here, I’ve been writing a lot more – mainly essays about my career and bits and pieces of my book. Am I in the middle of some sort of “writer’s enlightenment”?
Or am I on the threshold of a new beginning altogether?
I can’t pinpoint the reason for this feeling (nor is the reason important) but for the last week or so, it’s been overwhelming. I’m sensing a major change, but what exactly is it? Could it be my upcoming wedding? A change to my career?
Contrary to what many of you see here, I’ve been writing a lot more – mainly essays about my career and bits and pieces of my book. Am I in the middle of some sort of “writer’s enlightenment”?
Or am I on the threshold of a new beginning altogether?
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Giving Inspiration... Or Receiving It?
I was asked to speak to a “Writing in Advertising and Fundraising” class at Pitt tonight. This was my third such panel discussion. I brought the usual with me – samples of my writing on the job (which originated from an internship – so I’m basically the “poster boy” for Pitt’s Writing Program).
I shared the panel with three other students who graduated sometime after me. I figured, “I’m the elder. I’ll show these kids how to give a panel discussion!”
I entered the classroom pumped full of vigor, prepared to take on the role of “cool kid who recently graduated.” Unfortunately, I was the last to tell my “success story” and by the time I got to speak, all the good advice had already been given!
I actually started off quite confident. I even began with a witty remark:
“I should have made more notes. There’s so much I would like to say!”
Nobody laughed. It wasn’t funny anyway. Shit.
As I stumbled through my short bio, I could feel my face getting redder by the second. By the time I shared my writing samples, I honestly thought my head was going to explode. Really. I really thought my head would blow up and send pieces of brain across the room. I was sweating too – much like a fat man jogging through Mt. Lebanon.
But I wasn’t jogging. I just sat there and sort of ran through my piece which happened to be the briefest of the afternoon.
After class, the students had a chance to talk with us individually. My fellow panelists happily distributed business cards to prospective interns while I sat there (the one who had his “new” job the longest) simply cardless.
Shit!
That was my defining moment. It’s time to move on and look for another job. Sure, I’ve been browsing here and there, but I think it’s time to intensify the job search a bit. Find a better position, a better pay and a deck of business cards.
Then one of the students approached me. She was interested in an internship with my senior-living organization. “I’ve called Bingo for a while,” she said. “So I know a lot of grandmas.”
Okay. I’ll stay where I’m at for a little longer (if she honestly wants an internship). However, I will still go through with intensifying the job hunt.
After the panel discussion, I decided to take a drive to Shadyside and search for the elusive Creative Nonfiction Magazine that supposedly has associations with a lot of big-name writers. I’ve known about the magazine for several years now, and I wanted to know more about it. After touring the Shadyside business district for about 10 minutes, I found my sought-after land of potential opportunity!
The door was locked. Shit!!
Bored out of my mind with a half hour on the meter, I sat on a bench across from the Creative Nonfiction office and called Laura to share my woes and hardships. As I yakked away on the bench, I noticed someone exiting the Nonfiction office – it was the mysterious godfather of the genre himself – Lee Gutkind! Or at least I think it was him. We made eye contact and I managed an inaudible “Hi” as he scurried down the street.
Shit!!! What was I supposed to say? Should I have said something? Why did I come so unprepared?!
I’ve realized a lot tonight. It’s time for change. It’s time to search for a new job. It’s time to write more (a lot more). And it’s time to prepare my portfolio for whatever may come my way!
If you or anyone you know has a lead into any nonprofit fundraising work in Pittsburgh or the surrounding areas, feel free to drop me a line. Isn’t networking what the internet is all about?
I shared the panel with three other students who graduated sometime after me. I figured, “I’m the elder. I’ll show these kids how to give a panel discussion!”
I entered the classroom pumped full of vigor, prepared to take on the role of “cool kid who recently graduated.” Unfortunately, I was the last to tell my “success story” and by the time I got to speak, all the good advice had already been given!
I actually started off quite confident. I even began with a witty remark:
“I should have made more notes. There’s so much I would like to say!”
Nobody laughed. It wasn’t funny anyway. Shit.
As I stumbled through my short bio, I could feel my face getting redder by the second. By the time I shared my writing samples, I honestly thought my head was going to explode. Really. I really thought my head would blow up and send pieces of brain across the room. I was sweating too – much like a fat man jogging through Mt. Lebanon.
But I wasn’t jogging. I just sat there and sort of ran through my piece which happened to be the briefest of the afternoon.
After class, the students had a chance to talk with us individually. My fellow panelists happily distributed business cards to prospective interns while I sat there (the one who had his “new” job the longest) simply cardless.
Shit!
That was my defining moment. It’s time to move on and look for another job. Sure, I’ve been browsing here and there, but I think it’s time to intensify the job search a bit. Find a better position, a better pay and a deck of business cards.
Then one of the students approached me. She was interested in an internship with my senior-living organization. “I’ve called Bingo for a while,” she said. “So I know a lot of grandmas.”
Okay. I’ll stay where I’m at for a little longer (if she honestly wants an internship). However, I will still go through with intensifying the job hunt.
After the panel discussion, I decided to take a drive to Shadyside and search for the elusive Creative Nonfiction Magazine that supposedly has associations with a lot of big-name writers. I’ve known about the magazine for several years now, and I wanted to know more about it. After touring the Shadyside business district for about 10 minutes, I found my sought-after land of potential opportunity!
The door was locked. Shit!!
Bored out of my mind with a half hour on the meter, I sat on a bench across from the Creative Nonfiction office and called Laura to share my woes and hardships. As I yakked away on the bench, I noticed someone exiting the Nonfiction office – it was the mysterious godfather of the genre himself – Lee Gutkind! Or at least I think it was him. We made eye contact and I managed an inaudible “Hi” as he scurried down the street.
Shit!!! What was I supposed to say? Should I have said something? Why did I come so unprepared?!
I’ve realized a lot tonight. It’s time for change. It’s time to search for a new job. It’s time to write more (a lot more). And it’s time to prepare my portfolio for whatever may come my way!
If you or anyone you know has a lead into any nonprofit fundraising work in Pittsburgh or the surrounding areas, feel free to drop me a line. Isn’t networking what the internet is all about?
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