Subdivided We Stand Meets Marathon Man

Oh Mandy, You Came And You Built Me A Garage

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and sturdy is the bra that supports the boobs...

*actual ad from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

How disappointed am I that a new Miss One-Day Garages has been selected without my knowledge?  Very.  VERY disappointed.

Once again, I missed the pomp and the pageantry that is the Miss One Day Garages competition.  Let us pause for a few seconds to remember the glory that was last year's Miss One-Day Garage, the lovely Katie Marsh and her fabulous, hardly-fake-looking-at-all, rack.

But, out with the old and in with the new, I always say, so a hearty HELLO to Mandy.  Sorry I couldn't be there to see your coronation, honey, but I know you'll serve us well.  (And should circumstances dictate that you can't fulfill your duties as Miss One-Day Garages, I'm sure whichever bimbo was 1st Runner-Up will fill your shoes quite nicely.)

As a public service, I've transcribed Mandy's answer during her question-and-answer session from the pageant.  It's obvious to see that this is what put her over the top for the victory:

Q.  Recent polls have shown that a fifth of Americans don't have garages.  Why do you think this is?
A.  I personally believe the U.S. Americans are unable to have garages because, uh, some uh...people out there in our nation don't have cars, and, uh, I believe that our auto industry like such as South Africa and, uh, the Iraq everywhere like, such as and...I believe that they should, our drivers education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S. err, uh, should help South Africa and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries, so we will be able to build up our garages for our children.

Rock on, Miss One-Day Garages.

UPDATE:  A quick google search revealed the image below. 

Giddyup!

The Hole Truth

I like doughnuts.

Let me be a little more emphatic.  I REALLY like doughnuts.

In fact, I'd be pretty hard-pressed to come up with something that I DIDN'T like about doughnuts.  Ok, maybe the calories -- but really, who pays attention to stuff like that?

Let's face it -- doughnuts are good in just about every way it's possible to BE good. 

That said, and with my feet firmly planted in the pro-doughnut camp, I'm trying to come up with an estimate on the number of doughnuts I eat per year.  I'm going to take a stab at it here and say that, on average, I eat about two dozen doughnuts per year.  (A big portion of that comes from my annual week spent cooped up in Boston's Copley Place, where I tend to grab a couple from the world's poshest Dunkin' Donuts every morning on my way to meetings.)

So that's my best guess.  As an enthusiastic doughnut consumer, I eat roughly 24 a year.  It's my belief that this places me squarely in the median usage bracket in terms of doughnut consumption.

And as an average doughnut consumer, I feel compelled to tell you, dear readers, that it's my belief that my doughnut needs are well-met by the region's doughnut sellers.  I would say that, in nearly all instances, I'm never more than about 5 minutes away from a doughnut, should the need arise.  Granted, that might not always mean a DUNKIN' doughnut -- but I find that local bakeries as well as Giant Eagle make more than adequate doughnut products.  (As I've mentioned before, however, I'm NOT a fan of the super-sweet lard bombs from Krispy Kreme.  Apparently others of you aren't, either -- I think they've closed a couple of local outlets.)  Of course, you never get over your first love, and for me, nobody will ever match the quality of the late, lamented Danny's Doughnuts on Route 22 in Monroeville.  I would, however, manage to overcome that particular loss should somebody ever open one of these in the area.

It's with all of this in mind that I read the news that Dunkin' Donuts wants to expand from 10 to 115 outlets in this area.

Try and wrap your mind around that, Pittsburghers.  115 Dunkin' Donuts.  Here.  How far are you from a Dunkin' Donuts right now?  Probably not more than 10 minutes, I'll bet.  And that's with 10 of them.  How in god's name are we going to support 110 MORE of them?

I wanted to parse this data a little bit.  Here are some figures:

• In 2006, there were 1,223,411 people living in Allegheny County.  If I am the average doughnut consumer, then that means we'll eat 29,361,864 doughnuts in a given year. 
• Divide that number by 115, the number of Dunkin' Doughnuts we're going to have.  If, as they clearly intend, Dunkin' drives every other doughnut establishment out of business, creating a doughnut monopoly in our fair county, then (on average), each Dunkin' Doughnuts will sell 255,320 doughnuts per year.
• There are 525,600 minutes in a year.  On average, then, each Dunkin Doughnuts will sell 2.06 doughnuts per minute, 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
• How much does a doughnut go for?  Let's say it's a dollar, although I think it's less.  That means that each Dunkin' Doughnuts will make $255,320 in doughnut-revenue per year.  Of course, they sell coffee and maybe some other crap, but I'm guessing that the biggest income-producer at Dunkin' Doughnuts is, in fact, doughnuts.  Can a retail outlet survive on a quarter-mil a year?  I'm thinking rent alone would eat up a huge chunk of that, and that's before you pay your minimum wage wage slaves, buy your ingredients, etc.
• Allegheny County comprises about 730 square miles.  County parks account for 19 of those.  Let's be extremely conservative here and say that city parks as well as rivers, topography and other factors render another 100 square miles unusuitable for doughnut-related development.  That leaves 611 square miles.
• 611 square miles, divided by 115 Dunkin' Doughnuts, comes out to a Dunkin' Doughnuts every 5.3 square miles. 
• The Greater Pittsburgh yellow pages lists 56 McDonalds restaurants -- far and away the number one food franchise in the region at the moment, but slightly less than half of the number of Dunkin' Doughnuts that are about to be bestowed upon us.  (The number of McDonalds includes restaurants as far away as Kittaning as well as multiple locations in the Pittsburgh airport.)

All of which leads to one simple conclusion:

Loosen your belts, Pittsburgh.

UPDATE:

Looks like the "105 new outlets" thing ISN'T a typo.  I thought for sure it was.

This Is What It Sounds Like When Geese Cry

On the whole, I consider myself to be rather animal-friendly.

You know -- save the whales, save the spotted owl, save the manatees.  And so on.  Hell, I even stood up for the snail darter.

I never fail to pet a friendly doggie, or to rub the belly of a cat in need.  In our household, spiders and other assorted unwanted guests are forewarned that they'd best cooperate with my efforts to trap-and-release them into the outdoors, because if Mrs. Subdivided has her way, they'd be smooshed or flushed out of existence.

So while I certainly don't measure up to PETA standards on animal welfare (no one who has downed as many cheeseburgers as I have could make that claim), I do rather think that on the whole, I am a friend to animals.

On the other hand, however, you've got your gaggle of North Park Geese, now reduced by around 270 birds. 

By my estimation, even 700 is a conservative estimate.  We drive through the park every morning, and often there appear to be at least that many on the lawn by the boathouse alone -- let alone however many are in the rest of the park.  That's 700 hissing poop bags (around 1.5 pounds per day per goose) adding up to a park that has become, in effect, unusable.

I'll speak only for my own family here, but I will tell you that we are reluctant to use the park, particularly the nicest part (by the lake), only because you can't take two steps without stepping into the goose shit.  Without going into details, let me also just say that young kids are naturally curious, and liable to pick up interesting-looking things on the ground.

Am I happy that some creatures had to die?  Well, no, not in the least.  It's sad -- but what's even sadder is that we have a beautiful park that simply can't be used because of shit.  If we're not going to control the goose population, then it's time to abandon the park entirely.  Stop paying money to maintain it, because it's going to be unusable before too long.

It's my hope that pre-emptive efforts to control the goose population will be more effective in the future.  In fact, I'd be happy to volunteer to help oil the eggs next spring. 

In the meantime, I find it a little ironic that the people who are complaining the loudest are people who don't live anywhere near the park.  You try wiping the goose shit off your kids sometime, people, then come back and tell me how much you love those crap factories.

It's You I Like

I'm sure you read all about some LSU professor's opinion that Mr. Rogers is to blame for the current sense of entitlement among our youth.

It's a ridiculous article on top of a ridiculous theory, and it's clear that neither the good professor nor the columnist who wrote the story have ever watched a second of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood.  If they had, they certainly would've understood that the man's message went far deeper than "You're special." 

Anyway, I was thinking about Mr. Rogers and youthful entitlement when I read this piece in Jason Togyer's Tube City Almanac. 

How entitled do you suppose the students in the Duquesne school district are feeling right about now?

Not a whole lot, I'd imagine.

To the righteous residents within the West Mifflin School District, I'll say nothing other than that you could do with a reading of Matthew 25:35-40.

And to the Duquesne students, here are some words from Mr. Rogers:

It's you I like,
It's not the things you wear,
It's not the way you do your hair--
But it's you I like
The way you are right now,
The way down deep inside you--
Not the things that hide you,
Not your toys--
They're just beside you.

But it's you I like--
Every part of you,
Your skin, your eyes, your feelings
Whether old or new.
I hope that you'll remember
Even when you're feeling blue
That it's you I like,
It's you yourself,
It's you, it's you I like.

Ad Babes Revealed

Yesterday, I presented two images from relatively prominent local ads, and asked you, the beloved Subdivided readers, to identify the product being advertised.  Today, the answers.  Our first lovely young lady is NOT, as yellojkt suggested, selling breast enhancement surgery, although that seems a lot more likely than the truth:

Yes, friends, the lovely Katie up there holds the coveted title of "Miss One Day Garages."  For at least a decade, ads featuring an ongoing procession of "Miss One Day Garages" have appeared in the Post-Gazette.

This raises a number of questions.  Questions such as:

• How does one become Miss One Day Garage?
• Is there a pageant?
• Can one attend the Miss One Day Garage pageant?
• Is it possible to discuss Miss One Day Garage without using double-entendres such as "tool," "tailpipe" and "screw?"
• Does she get a tiara?  Please, God, tell me there's a tiara.

Our second young lovely appears to me to be some sort of deranged Brownie who is about to be hauled off in a straightjacket.  And to paraphrase the late, great Gorilla Monsoon, "There's nothing more tragic than a Brownie gone bad."  (Actually, Gorilla said "clown" instead of "Brownie," in reference to Doink the Evil Wrestling Clown.)

Here she is...

Just look at that woman.  She is, without question, certifiable.  And don't get me wrong, I'm well aware of the short-term benefits of dating crazy women.  They're loads of fun -- right up until that magical moment when she jabs a dull butter knife into your thigh.

Here she is, in context:

Makes you want to run right out and buy a mattress, don't it? This is one of the more insidious forms of outdoor advertising.  It LOOKS like a trailer parked right there next to the mattress store, but as far as I've seen, it hasn't moved in at least five years.  Plus, I haven't seen a lot of trucks out there on the road with oversized globes stuck to their sides.  (UPDATE:  There was an obvious gag to be had here by relating the phrase "oversized globes" to our lovely Miss One Day Garages up there.  I apologize and promise to never, ever pass up another opportunity to make a bad boob-related joke.)

So go.  Go buy a mattress from this place, if you dare.

Just don't come hobbling to me when you need someone to remove that kitchen utensil from your leg.

Oh, and one more thing:

"Give me a break, I couldn't be more excited about your mattress, I must say.  It's making me so mental!  They certainly are a bunch of decent fellows there, I must say."

Ad Babes

The following two images have been featured, prominently, in two different forms of Pittsburgh advertising media for at least the past five years.

First, a clip from a print ad. 

And item the second -- an outdoor advertising image that can be seen on one of the Pittsburgh region's most heavily-travelled retail corridors:

My challenge to you, the dear Subdivided readers, is this:

Tell me exactly what the two lovely young ladies above are selling.  The first person to get them both, and to furthermore tell me the prestigious title held by the woman in the first picture, gets one of my cherished Brighton Hot Dog Christmas cups.

Annnnd....Drink?

Looks like someone's aiming for a position on Mayor Luke's payroll:

Close but no cigar, Vera.  It's "move forward."  FORWARD!  Jeez, no wonder your brother threw your ass to the curb.

Nice boob-sweat stains, though.

Moon Over Pittsburgh

Dear UPMC;

Let's talk, shall we?

I understand how these things happen.  You start out, all noble and non-profity, and things go along swell for decades.

But then, an expansion here, a hostile takeover there, a cost-cutting move from Jello-brand gelatin dessert to Royal-brand on your patients' trays -- and next thing you know, it all adds up to a $459 million-dollar profit.

So what's a non-profit to do?

I work for a non-profit, and I understand how these things work.  At the end of the year, that balance sheet has to total to zero -- meaning that big profits have to equal big payouts somewhere down the line.

And that sort of thing is what leads a non-profit into renting office space on the top floors of the priciest building in town.  And when even that doesn't consume the profits -- heck, I can understand the temptation to want to dump some money into some shameless self-promotion, like erecting your logo on the highest point Downtown.

But here's the problem.  I, like many others, happen to like our city's beautiful skyline.

Unfortunately, in the past decade-and-a-half, that skyline has become increasingly cluttered with gigantic billboards at the top of our tallest buildings.  Mellon got the ball rolling, followed by FreeMarkets (which was eventually swallowed by Ariba, whose own attempts at stamping their name to our skyline didn't work out so well), the Post-Gazette, and  God knows who else. 

I like you, UPMC.  When my myocardial decided to infark two years ago, you folks were right there to get me back on my feet.  You are our city's largest employer, and that alone would be enough to merit the respect of one and all.

It's for these reasons and more that I was thinking today that I'd just see what happened if I asked, politely, if you would kindly reconsider the gigantic logo thing.

But as I was drifting off to sleep tonight, the thought struck me -- I'm a pimple on the ass of UPMC, and I'm sure they could not possibly care less what I think of their logo.  So I thought that perhaps there was a way that I could sweeten the deal.

My first thought was that I would offer, free of charge, to host their logo on my Web site.  Dozens of people stop by daily, most of whom are searching for the lyrics to a particular Thomas the Tank Engine song, or information regarding the divorce of some squeaky-voiced guy who used to do commercials for American Equity Mortgage -- but still, an ad on my site would be a lovely, non-invasive way to get the word out about UPMC.

I then thought I'd take it a step further, and ask my fellow 'Burgh bloggers to join me.  Surely, if the UPMC logo were to adorn the lovely sites of the lovely 'Burgh bloggers over there on the right, that might equal the might of a logo on top of the U.S. Steel Building -- right?

No.  Not right.  Not even close.

And that's when it hit me.  By placing their logo atop the tallest point in the Golden Triangle, it was as if UPMC was presenting itself as our God -- to be worshipped by one and all, preferably from a prostrate position.

So...if it's supplication you want, UPMC, it's supplication you shall have.

Here's my offer.

Agree to abandon your idea of putting your logo on the building, and you, UPMC, shall have in return -- my ass.

That's right.  I'm putting my ass on the line.  I will have your logo tattooed upon my ass, in full color and in as large and as colorful a font as can possibly be managed. 

Furthermore, I will do everything in my power to ensure that my ass is seen, in as prominent a position as I can manage, in all Pittsburgh events.  Not a Great Race shall be run, not a Pirate Bobblehead Night shall pass, not a parade shall be marched and not a cake shall be funnelled without the presence of my ass.

As a man firmly entrenched in his mid-40's, the time is coming near when I shall soon be undergoing regular prostate exams.  Now tell me, UPMC, is there a proctologist within your mighty network whose heart WOULDN'T beat faster to perform his duties on a UPMC-logoed ass?  I highly doubt it.

Or, if you prefer, we could really stick it to your dwindling competition when they stick it to me.  Say the word, and I shall get my exams from some West Penn/Allegheny system doctor, who no doubt will be filled with shame at seeing the evidence of your benevolence and might displayed in such a manner.

I am inviting all other civic-minded citizens to join me in this quest.  How many asses will it take, UPMC, to get you to stop this madness?  Just give me a number, and I will find the asses.

No More T&A For You or Me?

Pittsburghers -- remember "Officer Bob?"  For those who don't, or for you out-of-towners, Officer Bob was the star of a series of tv commercials (which may or may not have ever actually aired, I can't remember) designed to convince young adults to remain in Pittsburgh.  The idea was that Officer Bob hid behind bushes and ambushed anyone under the age of 90 who was attempting to leave town.

Eventually, Officer Bob was replaced by a 36-word branding message that included phrases like "rivers of steel" and "free sex."

Today, I'm proposing that we put Officer Bob back on the job -- because, my dear friends and fellow Pittsburghians, the other 50% of two of the most charming and fascinating individuals ever to emerge from Pittsburgh's tri-state area is considering joining his alter-ego in Florida.

Yes, friends, Anthony is considering joining Tunesmith in The Sunshine State.

We here at SWSMMM strenuosly object to such a move, and in fact are considering self-immolation if such a tragedy comes to pass.

Herewith, then, some statistics related to this potential disaster:

Who is most likely to miss Anthony?

---

How best can Anthony and his belongings be moved to Fla?

---

Most dramatic effect of Anthony's departure

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Potential upside of an Anthony-free Pittsburgh

Shrimp on the Barbie

Good news, everybody!

Pittsburgh has been selected to host a six-week Australian Arts Festival.

Why is this good news?  Because surely, given six full weeks of Foster's-fueled mayhem, we can find a place for a Yahoo Serious Film Festival.

(Image above stolen with impunity from the official Yahoo Serious Web site.)

(In other news, Yahoo Serious has a Web site.)