6.Will drop the song that single handedly releases us from the grasp of 2020’s bad juju.
7.What Tyler will win for his tiktoks of his cat Peanut Butter.
8.One of the Pittiful News writers will finally get a kiss from this handsome gentleman underneath the 2021 Christmas mistletoe.
9.Will be discovered as an anagram for “The Writers of the Pittiful News”.
10.The name of your new furry friend.
11.People will finally stop bashing this brand of boot because they finally learned how to wear combat boots correctly (You have to wear tall socks people. You can’t wear ankle socks in boots, that’s why your ankles are torn up.)
15.What franchise will expand tenfold with a series of exciting installments that will enchant and amaze America.
17.This social construct will disappear.
1. What law will pass this year.
2. I will get.
3. This article of clothing will make a comeback.
5. My father will complain about ____ to the cat.
12. This hot 2020 trend will make a comeback.
13. The next hot flavor of Activia probiotic yogurt.
14. This person will continue to be my favorite Steeler/TikTok icon.
16. This artist will come back with some more depressing bops.20. The name of the striking gentleman who will join the Pittiful News in 2021.
Your zodiac sign can say a lot about your personality, including what nasty holiday staple you resonate with.
Capricorn – Jello Salad: The dessert your grandma brings out and it just looks like jello but you cut it open and there’s vegetables and mayonnaise in it, but the lime green jello and the whipped cream kinda make it better.
Aquarius – SPAM Stuffing: You kinda don’t know what’s in it and it’s just a mess of everything your mom had leftover, but somehow always tastes pretty good anyways.
Pisces – Green Bean Casserole: You take some every year just because it’s there and you think you’ll want it, but you eat two bites and then eat everything else instead. Usually someone else offers you a scoop of it.
Aries – Cranberry Sauce *with Pulp*: It’s actually so good but nobody likes it, especially because it has actual cranberry chunks in it. Too tart to be dessert but too sweet to be dinner. Never fails to be at the table.
Taurus – Flake Mashed Potatoes: They come from a box instead of handmade. You wish you liked them but they just don’t feel right, but you can tolerate it with some gravy
Gemini – Mincemeat Pie: Is actually a dessert?? Sounds good but there’s BEEF in it! But sometimes there isn’t beef in it and it actually sounds kinda good.
Cancer – Eggnog: tasty but it’s more just like eggy spiced milk.
Leo – Kielbasa with Sauerkraut: Literally my favorite but nobody else likes it. Hard to find good kielbasa. Sauerkraut is good shut up. Leave me alone.
Virgo – Canned Corn: doesn’t really do anything wrong. Very reliable. But also it’s from a can in a pool of corn water. Kinda gross when you think about it, but I still love it.
Libra – Potatoes Au Gratin aka Scalloped Potatoes: Potatoes can’t do wrong, but they’re particularly slimy here. They just kinda do what they want. You can’t control them.
Scorpio – Fruit Cake: Sounds lovely. I think it would taste good but I have no clue because I’ve never had it. Candied fruit is good. I want to enjoy it.
Sagittarius – Corned Beef with Cabbage: actually nasty sorry. Just kinda random, like CORNED beef??? And cabbage? Why this combo and who decided it was a holiday staple. Just eat normal beef please. Spare us.
You know what, at the Pittiful News, we’re bored of the existing lineup of winter sports. They’re so last season. You can only watch a petite Russian girl perfect a triple lutz so many times before you start fantasizing of bigger and better sporting events. Here are a few suggestions we have for the Olympic Committee for the next Olympic winter games:
Frozen chicken: this one is winner-take-all. Players scatter atop a freshly frozen pond and flee as the ground beneath them begins to crack. The winner is determined when the last one on the ice falls through and dies with some bragging rights
Snowball showdown: snowball fight but the snowballs have razor blades within their ranks
Ice Fishing to the Death: It’s Battleship meets ice fishing. Two teams gather on opposite sides of a frozen body of water and begin to extract fish from the still non-frozen water below. They will then begin to throw the fish onto the other team’s side until the weight of the losing team and the winning fish causes the ice to break, sending the losers to a chilly and comical end
Speed-glasses-defogging: competitors race to try and defog their glasses while wearing a mask outside in the cold so that they can complete an eye exam. Gold goes to the olympian closest to a 2020 vision range.
Extreme biathlon: it’s like the regular biathlon except when you shoot, the targets are your fellow olympians. Gold goes to the last living skier.
Holiday tradition swapping: Players attempt to do a tradition from another culture
Bumper-tobogganing: as you race down the hill, you score points based on how many times you bump into your fellow tobogganers.
Snowshoe tap dancing: tap dancing with snowshoes
Figure Skating Duels: Regular figure skating, but the skaters also have skates on their hands to slice at the opponent with. Last one breathing wins.
Olympic snowman-building: competitors have a fixed amount of time to build the sexiest snowman.
Olympic snowman-melting: competitors must destroy the previous event’s snowmen in the fastest amount of time
Hot Dog Eating but it’s in the cold
Knife throwing using icicles
Ice Football: Playing American football, but on ice, with skates on
Competitive snow-angel making: Olympians must attempt to recreate biblical depictions of angels while lying on their back in the snow in order to inspire miraculous visions in the panel of judges watching from above without invoking the holy wrath of god. Olympians will be disqualified if their creation goes up in holy flame because it was too accurate to the real thing.
Netflix and chill: hang out with a friend-with-benefits and try to not catch feelings
Hot-Chocolate hands: That game where you slap the back of your foe’s hand until one of you quits but you are actually throwing mugs of scalding hot cocoa (swiss miss no added sugar) at one another
Cross-country skiing but you don’t get to use the stupid sticks. Shuffle like a man.
Nativity scene freeze tag
The fear chamber from Divergent
The Candor truth serum from Divergent
The Train Jump From Divergent
Live for a month as an Abnegation citizen from Divergent
Spend an hour with 3 people from Erudite from Divergent
Freezing hell over
Tea bagging idk sounds warm and cozy ask an older sibling
Winter Beach Volleyball: medals awarded to the three players who have not yet contracted a cold-related illness (frostbite, hypothermia, etc.). Also, have I mentioned that they must play in their swimsuits in the snow?
God confusing: Spin in circles while people shout different names of gods at you, you must yell back what mythology they are from
Thanksgiving leftover eating: eat all of the leftovers from the most recent thanksgiving, most competitors will die from food poisoning
Winter swimming relay race: speed does not matter, competitors must swim back and forth passing a baton for as long as possible, if one member of your team dies, you are eliminated, last team standing wins
At the Pittiful News, we pride ourselves at sharing the truest fake news possible, and as such are completely appalled at the truest true news shared by the Pitt News. We cannot stand to let such seriousness be spread amongst the student body. We NEED to get a little silly.
And so, we at the Pittiful News would like to present to you, what absolutely did not without a doubt happen to our dear friend Steve Juun during his romantic affair with the novel Coronavirus (in chronological order):
He did not need to walk up Cardiac Hill after getting a positive test for a highly infectious disease that makes breathing harder, he got a horse drawn carriage up to the fraternity mansions on Upper Campus.
He was given a free t-shirt, which was very soft and very flattering to his figure.
He was served a single spoon of mashed potatoes.
A free hoverboard was delivered to his door to take him to his online classes.
He was given a box of his favorite candy, Sour Patch Kids.
The Gallighator hand-delivered him a PS5 but without any games because he sucks.
Pitt Dining gave him unlimited dining dollars, ONLY for off-campus use.
He was given daily visits from the many therapy animals including but not limited to: rabbits, dogs, cats, birds, mice, cockroaches (unintentionally), and turtles.
His student Hulu account (with ads) was upgraded to a more expensive Hulu account (without ads).
A small frog fell in love with him and promised to turn into his dream monarch with a single kiss.
Pitt paid for a Tinder Gold membership for him.
He was canonized by Pope Francis, despite not being dead yet.
He was visited by the Sexy Jar Jar Binks that lives on Upper Campus.
A personal choir of Christmas carolers moved in to serenade his showers.
He was legally adopted by an Olympic medal-winning horse.
He was given a starring role in the next Guillermo del Toro movie.
He was granted immunity to the common cold.
He was given tangle-proof Christmas lights.
Robin Williams granted him three genie wishes but allowed him to wish for more wishes.
A professional manicurist replaced his fingernails with gold leaf.
The reincarnated spirit of George Washington granted him the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
Both Queen Elizabeth II of England AND King [REDACTED] of Sweden knighted him for his service.
Dean Bonner invited him to his exclusive Honors College orgies.
Donald Trump awarded him a small loan of 1 million dollars.
Jif Peanut Butter gave him a lifetime supply of peanut butter pre-spread on all his sandwiches, bagels, and pickles.
The Department of Housing furnished his dorm with seventeen mattresses (with sheets spun from gold by Rumplestiltskin himself) stacked on top of each other, with a single pea underneath.
Tyler moved in (and they were roommates).
His new roommate Tyler learned he was immune to COVID.
But immediately after, Steve was transferred to a Vegas hotel for his quarantine.
The carolers moved with him. Tyler remained in the dorm, but shortly after contracted the common cold and has been promoted to deceased status.
His parent (the horse) was flown out to bring him the entirely new set of supplies the Associate Dean had sent out to him.
His test turned out to be a false positive, he only had contracted a small cough from his Juul™.
Lord Tyler Sikov, Juun’s former roommate, was unavailable for comment when the Pittiful News reached out.
By Lord Tyler Sikov, Savannah Teman, and Sarah Yule
I recently noticed that the next post we make will be our 500th on the website. I thought that we should make this into a special occasion, so some writers have gotten together to come up with ideas for what to write. Email us at email@example.com to tell us which of these you want to be our 500th post.
How to Live In Ikea
Your Spotify Wrapped: Kidz Bop Modified
Marie Kondo’s Guide To Covid. How To Purge The Virus
Top 500 Homoerotic Crosswalk Interactions
50 Ways to Say Goodbye by Train, 10 times
A transcript of a Zoom recording of one of our meetings, tangents included
Stand-up Comedian Tier List
Sit-Down Comedian Tier List Because Ableism Sucks
Favorite Junior/School Edition Musicals
How many Dunkin’ coffees will I have to skip in order to afford a decent nose job in New York State?
I Lived as a Muppet For a Day: Here’s What I Learned
True life: my strange attraction to Vince Vaughn (specifically Fred Claus era Vince Vaughn)
Defective Cat For Sale: No Bark Just Bite
What Nasty Holiday Food You Are Based On Your Zodiac Sign
How to write a group article
Where did my dad go?
My lust for Oscar the Grouch has the same limit as Cookie Monster’s lust for cookies, no limit
Why any of musical mastermind Dua Lipa’s songs could have sold very well as singles
How to cool down your pizza roll without biting off the corner and huffing like a little whore
How to huff like a little whore
Why Marley was the biggest villain of all the villains in Glee
I know too much about radula
I took a long winter break
Hufflepuff support group
My life as a Leo apologist
What to write about for your 500th article
A 7th article about being in a cult
Secondary uses for your cat
Mashed potatoes and other funny sounding foods
A day in the life of a Pittiful News Writer: Russian Prison escape edition
Upgrades to Pitt’s campus
What to write for our 1000th post
Imma go get a coffee
Imma commit voter fraud
Imma commit tax fraud
I assassinated the President of the United States
Flat Stanley spread the coronavirus (we have photograph proof)
It has come to my attention that this will be our 500th post. Welp, we’ll get ‘em next time.
Now you may be wondering if I actually assassinated the president. The answer is yes. I assassinated Abraham Lincoln. You may be thinking, no, John Wilkes Booth killed Abraham Lincoln. You would be wrong. John Wilkes Booth is an anagram of my name, Lord Tyler Sikov. I have hidden my true identity for a long time. There are many reasons why. As many of you know, I shot the president in the back of the head and then jumped out of the balcony in Ford’s theater. I did sprain my ankle but I got away and changed into one of the costumes from the play.
I escaped and I was in the clear until that idiot Garfield got into power. I created a new identity this time, Charles J. Guiteau, a writer and lawyer, also conveniently another anagram for my name. I saw him at a train station and shot him twice. I disappeared into the crowd and some other guy took the fall for me, as they thought he was me. I then impersonated a doctor and committed medical malpractice to ensure that my job was done well, and the president did not survive. I then went and perjured myself to say that the man they wrongly convicted was actually rightly convicted, that man who was unfortunately caught in the crossfire was sentenced to death.
I laid low for a little while but then William McKinley was elected. I knew I had to be craftier this time, that I should not approach him with a gun. So, I concealed my gun in a handkerchief. This time the authorities almost caught me but luckily there was another man holding a handkerchief right behind me. The name I chose for this mission was Leon Czolgosz, another anagram. That is the name they attributed to the killer. I took a 62-year nap. By then many people had failed to copy my style. No presidents were assassinated while I was asleep, there were many attempts. I never fail, so those were not my work by any means.
Once I woke up Kennedy was president. I created a new identity, under the name Lee Harvey Oswald, the semordnilaps of my name, I thought I would go a different direction as anagrams might be getting easier as technology evolves. I had missed killing under a name that was three names long. This one was very fun because people after the fact noted that there were two gunmen, they were right. A man was working in the building, where I planted a number of weapons. In reality there was only one gunman, I work alone. But I needed evidence as the judicial system had advanced during my hibernation period. I did not have to do much cleaning up after this shooting, Jack Ruby took care of my prop Oswald once they made it to jail. Then Ted Cruz’s father killed Ruby, making my job even easier.
Since then, there have been many more attempts on the lives of presidents, none of which I have been involved in. Ted Cruz, aka the Zodiac Killer, has been keeping a close eye on my activities. Game recognizes game. I have done my best to stay out of his sphere of control. I text with him, the Unabomber, the still living guy from the Boston marathon (that cutie), and all of the alive serial killers, school shooters, and other various Guantanamo bay inmates. When I worked at Nickelodeon, I wrote a few episodes of SpongeBob. I used this to my advantage to send coded messages to my friends who have been less fortunate at their life of crime. The code I used was what our group called ourselves. E.V.I.L. aka Every Villain Is Lemons.
“If I just leave without paying will I go to jail”
“I have a bladder issue” the customer then proceeded to talk about her extensive list of surgeries she had had over the past 5 years in excruciating detail
“Crazy times out there” *chuckle*
“My wife left, do you know what aisle the singles are in?” (no laughter accompanied his question btw)
“You’re a baby” (upon hearing that I am 19 years old)
“Can I jump to the front of the line? I left my kid in the car and it’s a scorcher out there today.”
“The coin shortage is all a revenge plot constructed by the Democrats”
A man rambled to me for about 20 minutes about his experiences being a travelling panhandler while I made his latte and didn’t hear a single word he said
“So like, what does this drink do? Is any of that stuff even good for you?”
“Why do you make your store so frustrating to shop at?”
“Did you guys already put the 5G in the bathrooms? Because my arm is tingly.” (the man was later ushered out by an ambulance, as he was suffering a heart attack.)
“Oh, you dropped out of Pitt’s Japanese program because it was hard? My daughter majored in it, she thought it was easy.”
“I have a gun”
“Are you in college? Where do ya go? Oh Pitt? Yeah its good. I went to Penn State.”
“How ‘bout them cowboys?”
I helped a woman bring a box to her car and the whole entire time she was telling me about her dead husband, once I got her to her car she tipped me 50 dollars
The box I was carrying contained her husband’s ashes and some of his items
One time I watched an old man pull his mask down to lick his fingers to hand me his money. In the middle of a pandemic.
“Are you one of Jessie’s friends? They’re always chatting on their phones.”
“[Statement has been redacted for being extremely racist AND zenophobic. I love Pennsylvania.]”
“Masks can’t save use, only the grace of god can, it sucks that I killed Zeus last year or maybe he could help”
“Is mayonnaise and instrument”
“If I die young, bury me in satin, lay me down on a bed of roses, sink me in the river at dawn, send me away to the words of a love song”
The customer was Kimberly Perry
“Hello ma’am, are these mashed potatoes on sale” “Sir, those are Essence magazines, not mashed potatoes” “Oh, ok, thank you for your help” “Sir, I see you putting the magazines into your pants, sir you can not leave the store, Sir…”
(An old man probably over 60) “I like your little braids. Do you have brothers? I bet they like to tug on them.”
“You look like Taylor Swift”
“You look like Emma Stone”
(this guy was clearly 2 kids stacked on top of each other in a trench coat) “Hello, we would like to buy your finest expired grape juice” (second smaller voice)”it is called wine” (first voice again) “*clears throat* *lowers voice* i mean wine, 2 wine please”
I was fresh on the scene of Tinder when it happened. Desperately swiping through Pittsburgh plugs to find my husband-to-be, I got a notification on Instagram. Alarmed because I never use the app other than to hate-watch the feeds of Bella Hadid and the like, I clicked on the notification banner with fear in my heart. As it turns out, I had reached a milestone in my journey to desirability: I may never match with a single soul on Tinder, but someone had finally slid into my DMs!
Sure that my Prince Charming was on the other side of this message thread, I sent a reply right away, before even really reading what he had written; his name was Brad, and that was enough for me. I wrote something along the lines of “Hey there ;) wanna know what I’m wearing??”
Then I read the message.
My basically-fiancee had initially sent me this: “Hi! I was wondering if you were willing to put your name down to back the red this November.” And that was it. No winky-face, no “u up?”. Nothing. Nada. I had no butterflies in my stomach. Just questions. A metric fuck-ton of questions.
First-off, was this Brad guy referring to the hammer-and-sickle type of “red” or the go-back-to-where-you-came-from kind? The two are quite different, but I’m not sure I’d fancy romantic involvement with either, even at this juncture in my desperation. Secondly, what on my feed would lead Mr. Brad to believe that I would in fact want to “back the red”? Was it the pictures of my cats? If so, which ones? Which cat? I concluded that reading too far into Brad’s inquiry would open a can of worms that would kill any chance of romance between us, so I just kept up my side of the one-sided flirtation, saying “My roommate is away for the weekend ;))”. You see, Brad was all about making the first move when it came to winning a vote on Nov. 3, but now that I was ready to go all-in for him, he was nowhere to be seen. I called him out on this inability to commit and again, nothing in response.
I was just about fed up with my communist/republican e-boyfriend at this point, and I went back to my DMs to break it off. That was when I saw that Brad’s messages to me had disappeared. Similarly, his account wouldn’t show up when I searched for it either. Even worse, my WhitePages Premium search came up empty as well. I guess my cyber-lover had come to terms with his hypocrisy and made the decision to deplatform himself. I can only applaud that choice on Brad’s end, but I am left with the question of what could’ve been to ponder for the rest of my days. I guess it’s back to Tinder for me, wish me luck!
So here’s the deal. You want to pretend that you’re invincible. I get it, we’ve all been there. But you need to get with the times. 2020 has ushered in a pandemic, and with it came an elevated awareness of our mortality. And if you’re anything like me, Covid-19 isn’t the only thing tarnishing your perfect picture of human health; there’s an empty package of Oreo cookies on your desk that is doing that just as well. (Pro tip: If you wear a mask in your own home, you can’t eat oreos with nearly as much efficiency. It’s basically free weight loss, so mask up!) So now is the time to sack up and start planning your funeral! Think about it, nobody knows you like you do, and the funeral is basically the only party that you are guaranteed an invitation to. With BonBon cracking down on large gatherings, your post-mortem plans are all you have left. I got my start in the fantasy funeral biz when I was seven. This sounds odd, I am aware. But mind you, I was a strange kid with even stranger parents. My dad and I would pass the time on road trips imagining our dream memorial services. (sidenote: Hello father, I hope you opened the link that I sent you to this article. Tuition well spent, don’t you think?) Here are some of the highlights of what we came up with over the years.
My service will take place in a funeral home that doubles as a crematorium. This is crucial.
As soon as I perish, I have notified all who are close to me to begin preparing a set. About 10 minutes in length, each friend and family member will stand at the front of the room and address the large portrait of me, which will be propped up ahead of time. They will make jokes about me with no holds barred: nose jokes, fat jokes, mentioning that one time I was caught in the act of trying to stuff a family-sized container of uncooked pillsbury halloween cookies under my bed sheet to “save for later”, all the good stuff. Nothing will be off-limits at the Grand Roast of Sarah Yule, and I have already warned those speaking that I will haunt them for eternity if they go easy on me. They will get the crowd going with increasing numbers of knee-slappers.
By the time friend number 3 takes the stage, there won’t be a dry pair of pants in the viewing room. And if you are peeing, you probably aren’t crying, and this is the plan. It’s a celebration of life, after all!
At the end of the roast, a creepy older gentleman will materialize from the back room. More specifically, the man will be carrying me in an urn, fresh with my ashes, which were being prepared during the first half of the service. At this point, the man will take the microphone and announce that I was being roasted, while I was being roasted. This is why it is of the utmost importance that I am memorialized in a space that includes a crematory. If you thought the crowd was laughing before, now they’re really going. People are wheezing, falling to the ground. A few might even die from the lack of oxygen brought on by such a whacky turn of events; I mean COME ON, it’s a double roast. You don’t see those everyday.
After Party at Denny’s, need I say more?
As guests walk out of Denny’s, they will receive a t-shirt that reads: “Sarah died, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt”. Very much tourist, very “I survived the Bermuda Triangle.” With these amazing plans for my funeral, it is hard not to look forward to doom. Fearing death? Plan your funeral! You’ll barely be able to wait.