What we did to celebrate the win against Clemson 

By the writers of the Pitiful News (Formerly the Clemsoniful News, Pitt got us in the divorce)

The Cheesecake Factory Menu, Menu for The Cheesecake ...


  • Cured our hangovers by drinking more
  • Made it just in time for Saturday night Mass
  • Reconnected with Josh, the cute guy I met at the game 
  • Made out with ROC
    • And disrespected The Tiger
  • Made out with Kenny Pickett
    • And disrespected the Panther
  • Pregamed on the drive to the frats after (it’s okay, I don’t drive stick) 
  • Locked a band guy in the portapotty, stole his uniform, played the tuba, got to be close to SCOTTY
    • This sounds suspiciously like a sex thing.
  • Bought a $20 hot dog from the concession stand
  • Played Madden to relive the experience 
  • Streaked the field, but with my clothes on and I was also walking
  • Scheduled a rapid covid test
  • Asked for extensions on all assignments, citing Kenny Pickett hysteria as the reason
  • Put blue Mio in the frat juice so everyone would be puking pitt colors
  • Murdered anybody I saw wearing orange
    • Forgive me, crossing guard
  • Created our own victory lights by taking all the string lights from all the dorms 
  • Streaked on Forbes Avenue  
  • Got our flu shots!!
  • Checked my polling place information for the November 2 election
  • Burned down my high school (their colors were black and ORANGE)
  • Rammed through all of the traffic cones in the parking lot…and then realized that the cones were just people in Clemson jerseys
  • Told the shuttle driver to have a really nice night and apologized for the noisy ride back to Pitt
  • Started pregaming for the next game against Miami 
  • Wore the head pieces of fursuits of random college football mascots that have beat Clemson, out of sheer spite  
  • Jumping into the air and shouting “Yipeeeeeeeee!”  
  • Got into an “Okay?” “Okay.” loop with a young teen at the game.
  • Drowned my orange tabby cat
    • THIS IS SO DARK OMG
  • Tried to drown my goldfish, didn’t work
  • Got irrationally angry at a Garfield comic 
  • Pissed my pants
  • Did something a bit gay.  
  • Took down my MAGA flag – Trump’s spray tan teeters on Clemson colors and that is where I draw the line 
  • Ate Frosted Flakes and spit them out because Tony the Tiger can suck my dick.  
  • Perfected my liquid eyeliner skills because I’m a girlboss.  
  • Joined the Cathedral Club so we could bathe our naked bodies in the glow of the Victory Lights 
  • Shared skin care tips with my homies because we all deserve to look glowy <3   
  • Raw Tigered the Tiger (similar to raw dogging but with a tiger)  
  • Did laundry  
  • Lost my virginity 
  • Changed my tinder to guys and gals
  • Upped my body count by so many
    • So many, guys, i have so many more bodies now 
  • Bought blue and gold birds because that seemed like a celebratory thing to do at the time. 
    • Please help me i have too many birds i dont know what to do with them
  • Mugged the guy who won the 50/50 raffle 
  • Buttered my toast bottom side up  
    • Bottoms-up toast hits so good though
  • Left my mom on read, now a SWAT team has kicked down my door killed my wife and I still have not told my mom I am ok 
  • Got a bible verse tattoo to show my thanks to God
  • Snuggled with my cat a bit more 
  • Licked a few random hot dudes  
  • Did the ice bucket challenge  
  • Got ALS  
  • Read my favorite book, the Cheesecake Factory menu
  • Double homicide 
  • Double Homie-cide  
  • Double Tequila 
  • Double Suicide
  • Double 1-800-273-8255 
  • Double-decker cheeseburger 
  • Double-decker Bus 
  • Ate a pizza
  • Got hit by a Port Authority bus 
  • Port Authority bus got hit by me 
    • Physics 
      • Yeah, Newton’s Third Law, I’m smart too
  • Watched Ratatouille
  • Found my virginity: it was in my dirty laundry  
    • It’s always in the last place you look!  
  • Got drafted :(

Pat Narduzzi Arrested: Found Intoxicated, Wandering the Streets of South Oakland and Charged With Various Crimes Against Nature

By Evan Rafferty

Pittsburgh Panthers - American Football Wiki

    Reports from University of Pittsburgh police early Sunday morning disclosed that Pitt football head coach Patrick Regan Narduzzi was taken into police custody at around 3:45 AM, and was charged with public urination, excrement consumption, resisting arrest, first-degree scumbaggery, twelve counts of “actions detrimental to the honor and tradition of college football,” and just being a moron in general. Which, after an embarrassing stretch of performances including four straight losses suffered against the entire wolf population of North Carolina, Boston University, the University of Coral Gables, and an absolute annihilation at the hands of some French preachers from Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris, are not surprising infractions at all.

    Coach Narduzzi was made available for comment before spending the bye week in a dark, dank jail cell, thinking about what he did wrong. Unfortunately, most of the questions from reporters were not questions at all. Instead, the press conference quickly degraded into disgusting comments joking about what a stupid little dumb idiot Pat Narduzzi is, or how he is such a stupid idiot nerd, or how he’s so dumb and stupid, and annoying, and sucks at his job, or how I hate him, or how he looks like an ostrich, or how he’s too braindead to stop using power run with a 5’8” running back, or how he made me waste $25, four hours, and a piece of my soul to watch my poor panthers get curb stomped by a coterie of Catholics, or how his defense is so godawful that a white guy with the first name Ian carved his pride and joy up like a jack-o’-lantern. Please do keep in mind that all of these insults are unprofessional, not at all funny, and should never be repeated. I was able to get in a few completely unbiased questions amidst the chaos and general rioting of the crowd. Below is a direct transcript of the Q&A with Narduzzi.

Evan Rafferty (ER): “Alright Coach, this has obviously been a tough last month or so for your football team. It certainly could have gone better, but setbacks like this could be seen as an opportunity to bring out the best in players and people in general. That being said, what in the name of God was going through your head this time, and, follow up question, why are you so stupid?”

Patrick Narduzzi (NARD): “Alright, uh, yeah. Gimme a second to sober up here.” Narduzzi then did a set of pushups, took off his shirt, and threw up into a nearby trash can. “Football? Yeah, football. Basically, what happened was, things were going great, right? Just playin’ some football, guys being dudes, what could be better than that? Then, all of a sudden, this big old half-bald white guy standing next to me looks over and says-”

ER: “You’re referring to Mark Whipple, your offensive coordinator?”

NARDZ: “I don’t know, I don’t really pay attention to names and all that. I just shove a couple of bennies in some guys’ pockets and let ‘em goof off for a few hours every gameday. Not really my problem. Anyway, that nipple guy or whatever looks at me and is like ‘Hey, the game’s over. We lost, again.’ And then I look up at the scoreboard and I’m like, ‘Oh, shit, what?’ I don’t know how to read it anyway, but I see all the people in the other colors jumping up and down and celebrating, which I’ve learned is what people do when they win something.”

ER: “Wait, so, you can’t even read? How old are you?”

NARD: “That’s an off-topic question, shut up and let me finish. Basically, I forgot to score more points than the other team. It’s that simple. I trusted all these nerds that I hired to remind to score more points and I guess they just didn’t tell me. Then I ask for a score check and some dweeb next to me tell me we’re down by forty-two. Like, what the hell, right? So then, after the Notre Dame game, my wife doesn’t let me in the house, and I have to drag my ass all the way back to my mom’s place just to have her make fun of me for an hour and a half. It’s not fair, you know? So after the fifth or sixth round of her telling me to get my act together, and kick the bath salts addiction, I packed up my stuff and made plans to crash at my boy Brad’s place in South O for the weekend. Apparently, I had a couple more Appletinis than I could handle before I got there and the next thing I remember is pissing in the Schenley Memorial Fountain and some sirens going off behind me. I guess having to take a leak is a crime now. It’s nature!”

ER: “So, what are you going to do now? Will you retain your position as the head coach of Pitt football?”

NARD: “Oh, obviously. Those geezers up at the AD’s office are paying me over $4,000,000 to lose to Boston College every year. You’re stuck with me unless I’m dragged out of Heinz Field and shot.” 

ER: “As tempting as that sounds, you don’t think that you might be on the hot seat after you’ve disappointed and underachieved for the last five years? Maybe with your severance package, you can give me back my $25, pay for my hospital bills after I broke both of my hands from beating the devil out of the poor chair in front of me every third down, and bribe your wife to let you back in the big house instead of crashing with Brad every weekend and spending your Sunday mornings too plastered to even attempt to become literate.”

NARD: “What the- Who the hell are you, anyway?”

In fear of attracting the attention of the security guards, and the potential that my poorly put together Pittiful News press pass that I had to pay seven of my hard-earned cents to print might be discovered as a fake, I was forced to flee into the vents of the police station and make my escape back into the safety of the darkness.

    Let this tale serve as a message to all those who stand with Narduzzi and his plans to destroy the sanctity and extensive tradition of Pitt football from the inside- I will be waiting. Once Heather Lyke returns all of my phone calls, emails, texts, love letters, and fruit basket messages, you’re all as good as gone. #FireNarduzzi, and, as always, hail to Pitt.

Pitt Football Makes Strides

By John Garry
In light of yet another disappointing performance, many among the Pitt student body are in despair. After suffering through a season in which performances cycled from meaningless (62-0 thrashing of Sister Mary’s School for the Blind the University of Delaware) to dismal (NCAA record 5 turnovers in the first half amidst a 46-0 ass-whooping from Georgia Tech) to heartbreaking (double-overtime loss to Duke with a missed field goal), many Panther supporters lost faith in humanity once again while watching Pitt give up 293 yards and 29 points in the fourth quarter of the Armed Forces Bowl against the University of Houston.

As bleak as things may seem around Oakland, there is yet hope.  Hard-hitting computational analysis proves that the Pitt football team is actually making strides, and quite a few of them.  According to my notepad filled with tally marks, the Panthers made about 67,000 strides during the Armed Forces Bowl.
Alan Bundy, Head Defensive Coordinator for the University of Austin Badgers, was among those in attendance at the game.  “The defense in that last quarter was atrocious.  Miscommunication seemed to be everywhere, and blown coverages and missed assignments cost [the Panthers] the game,” said Bundy.  “But boy,” he added, “I’ll tell you what, those strides were textbook.”
Researchers at the UCLA Beedner School of Sports Science agree.  “We have created a computational model, called our Pittsburgh Optimized Running Network (P.O.R.N.) Database, to analyze just how good those Pitt Panthers are at striding.  We were blown away by the results.  After countless hours reviewing and closely examining our P.O.R.N. Database, we have come to the conclusion that Pitt might just be the best striding team in the country.  Sure, they are not terrific at tackling and they could use a hand in grabbing the loose balls during onside kicks, but they finish second to none in striding.”

While South O might not erupt with excitement or optimism at the thought of the fourth new head coach in four years, they can at the very least take heart that their boys on the field are making strides.