Matters that go POP!
11 February 2006
Get wise, scenesters, I have two new stories up on Pop Matters. The first is a write-up about the difficult yet immensely satisfying graphic novel Black Hole, and the other is a little thing centered on a documentary DVD about Charlie Chaplin, Unknown Chaplin. You can read them here and here.
I'll have a new column up soon, so be on the look out for that, too.
Labels: Published Work
Bobby O, Bobby O, Please Dear God It's Time To Go!
08 February 2006
How embarrassing is this cat to Pittsburgh? Wholly, utterly, phenomenally or simply amazingly? And how ridiculous was it that that schmuck was the first person in the Steelers victory parade?
Honestly, if anyone knows Bob O'Connor, hip him to the fact that he's a joke. No, really. Do it. Someone needs to beat him over the head with a reality stick.
I feel like a winner!
07 February 2006
I was playing Madden '05, listening to the X (105.9 WXDX for all you non-Pittsburghers), and the DJ, Whipping Boy, was talking to someone at the Make-A-Wish Foundation. The subject was a football that was being sold to raise money for Make-A-Wish.
The ball in question was originally commissioned to commemorate the Steelers AFC Championship and the career of Jerome Bettis. But after the Super Bowl win, the ball become a celebration of the Steelers' amazing season as well as the Bus.
Sounds interesting, I thought, then didn't really think about it much -- my San Diego Chargers were rolling on the Miami Dolphins in the AFC Championship in my Madden season and, c'mon, we need priorities to sustain a functioning society.
At the end of the conversation about the football, Whipping Boy said, "Why don't we give away five of these footballs?" The Make-A-Wish representative agreed, and Whipping Boy opened the phone lines.
Usually, I don't get into radio contests; I've had bad experiences in the past. But the phone was next to me and I thought, what the hell. So I paused the game and dialed.
Busy. Of course. I tried again. Busy again. Redial. Busy. Redial. Busy. Redial. Ring.
Piqued, I let the phone ring and ring. I figured that by this time they had the five winners -- about three minutes had passed, which is long enough to end a radio contest -- so I thought the ringing would end up in either a hang-up on the other end or a consolatory thanks for trying message.
When the ringing stopped, I head, "Hey, what's your name?" It was Whipping Boy.
"Dante," I reply, "Dante C-I-A-M-P-A-G-L-I-A. Shem-pag-lee-ah."
"…A-G-L-I-A. Shem-pog-lee-ah?"
"Shem-pag-lee-ah."
"Shem-pag-lee-ah. Cool. What's your number?"
I give him my number. (You didn't think I'd list it here, did you?"
"Cool. Listen, these footballs take, like, six weeks to make. So I'll hang on to your information, and once these balls come in I'll give you a call and you can come down and pick it up."
"Awesome! Thanks, man!"
And with that Whipping Boy hung up. And I had won a Super Bowl commemorative football, valued at $99 and limited to only 2000.
Now that’s the way to start a Monday.
Click on this unfortunately small image to find out more about the ball and how to order one. It's for a great cause, so if you're a Steelers fan you might want to consider plunking down the Benjamin to pick this bad boy up.
Labels: Personal
One for the ring finger
06 February 2006
What psyches me up to no end about what that graphic says is that, for 11 years, I've been consistently let down as a Steelers fan.
In 1994, they roll to the AFC Championship game and lose to an obviously inferior San Diego Chargers team -- a team that got blown out by the
So while watching the Super Bowl last night, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time -- not because it was a close game, but because I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. There's no way the Steelers barely make it into the playoffs, beat three teams on the road -- and the one, two, three seeds, at that -- make it to the Super Bowl and win. No way. No. Way. There was going to be the inevitable let down, and once again I'd be part of that generation of Pittsburghers who has to listen to the old timers blabber on and on about the Steelers of olde.
When the game ended, and the Bill Cowher was hoisting that itty bitty trophy in the air, I was stunned. Shocked. Flabbergasted. Confused. Bewildered. Excited. Relieved. Fucking pumped up.
The Steelers finally did it. They might have come awfully close to repeating the mistakes of the past, but this team isn't the same one I've seen blow the big one over and over again. The thing this team has, and what was missing in 1994, 1995, 1997, 2001 and 2004, is a real-deal quarterback. Ben Roethlisberger isn't O'Donnell. He's not Kordell Stewart. He's certainly not Tommy Maddox. And while he could've gone either way this season, given how poorly he performed in the playoffs last year, Roethlisberger showed up this season. His numbers in the XL might not have been huge, but what was more important was the statement that he's arrived. This guy is a complete quarterback. He's won the big game where so many others have failed. And the scary thing is, he's only getting better. If the Steelers make it back to the Super Bowl next season, no way does he play as poorly again. The suck thing is that he's younger than I am and he's rolling in the money. That makes me feel very conflicted.
But not conflicted enough to appreciate how amazing it is to finally have a Super Bowl champion to call my own. I've seen the Penguins win the Stanley Cup twice, I've seen the Steelers win the Super Bowl, now all I need is a Pirates World Series win. Right. And I might wake up tomorrow morning with Roethlisberger money sitting in my bank.
(Thanks to the Steelers Web site for providing the graphic at the top of the post. It's real classy-like.)
