Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Closeted Browns Fan Tells All


            The toughest part about living in Pittsburgh and being a Browns fan is that every time someone from Pittsburgh finds this out they invariably say, “I’m sorry to hear that.” Or “That’s too bad…”, as if I had any other choice…

            You see on the day of my birth my mother’s pussy happened to be in Cleveland and when I came out I WAS IN CLEVELAND!!! YOU PITTSBURGH SUNZABITCHES!!!. What was I supposed to do, hoist myself back up into the tiny efficiency of my mother and refuse to emerge until they moved to Pittsburgh whereupon I would reappear wearing a Steelers T-shirt that says “Got Six?”

            Being a Browns fan in Pittsburgh is like being the last straight man on Gay Island. I would really like to get into it, I really, really would…but I just can’t. Steelers’ fans don’t get it, but a fan of any team usually becomes a fan by virtue of their relationship with a family member in my case my father who took me to my first Browns game when I was 10. It was against the Redskins and Jim Brown rushed for 163 years and two touchdowns, one on an 80 yard run and one on an 83 yard run from a screen pass. The Browns won and I was with my dad. From that moment on I was a Browns fan. That is how it works PITTSBURGH HALFWITS!!!

            Get outta tahn?!!!

            I wish I could! A Black and Gold shroud hangs over this city. The Steelers control the vertical and horizontal. All energy is filtered through their yin and yang 25/8.

            The Pennsylvania Department of Transportation can’t fix a goddamn pothole, but if you need a Super Bowl parade for half a million people in 24 hours…like a Swiss watch!

            A Pittsburgher’s self esteem is directly related to the success and failure of the Steelers. Domestic violence is up when the team loses and other studies show that domestic tension rises even when a wife misplaces the remote control.

            I could no more become a Steelers fan even if the hottest chick in Pittsburgh were to drain my radiator hose every game at half time. Come back here Baby, that’s nacho cheese!

            Dear, sweet, lovable, infantile, Pittsburgh, self worth determined by how many Super Bowls the Steelers have won. It doesn’t get much lower than that unless you are a pedophile who is a big Steelers fan. Depth and perception is not in the quiver of a Pittsburgher. Introspection be damned! Bring up a subject like natural selection, suggest that we haven’t a clue how mankind will evolve in the next 5 million years and you know what you will witness, the eyes of this black and gold fanatic lighting up, not because he cares a whit about the future of Mankind, no he’s getting hard thinking about how many more Super Bowls The Steelers will win in the next 5 million years…a thousand maybe? And if The Cleveland Browns manage to win one in the next 5 million years? That is intolerable cruelty to a Steelers fan.

            So here I am a closeted Browns fan slinking around the dark recesses of this narrow minded bastion knowing full well that I will never be able to come out and live life as my true self.

            Did’ya hear what happened up in The Rocks the other day? They hung a man  for wearin’ a Cleveland Browns cap! Turned out the guy was from Buffalo. Bought the cap for a quarter and the Red, white and Blue Store. Well, tough toenails I say. Either he’s the dumbest SOB that was ever born or he’s got some pair on 'im!

            You can sum up living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in five words, five simple words that reveal the mores and folkways of the city and its inhabitants and could almost be read as an existential cry for help and a symbol of a species cresting the hill toward de-evolution. You may think I doth protest too much, so I will allow you to be the judge.

“GO STEELERS! $1.50 slices!”

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