In a shocking turn of events, noted pseudoscientist and Harvard alumnus Dr. Mehmet Oz has been declared the winner of the Pennsylvania senate race after thousands of ballots pour in from New Jersey.
Announcing his victory from his New Jersey mansion, which shares the address of over 500 of the tardy ballots, Oz celebrated the eventual voice of the people overcoming the radical left machine.
Fetterman, in a fit of rage, was spotted tearing off his pullover hoodie (which, to our surprise, revealed a second pullover hoodie of the same color and design) while muttering the words “from Pennsylvania, for Pennsylvania…”. Fetterman, ultimately, was not the runner-up of the election after the mail-in votes were tallied, with second place going to ‘‘Nemet Oz”, which was somehow penciled on every ballot received from Texas.
Fetterman went on to say that the ballots were clearly fraudulent, as many of them were signed ‘Mehmet Oz’. A spokesperson for the Oz campaign responded to this by hiding from reporters in the bushes.
Dr. Oz supporters were suspiciously un-surprised at the late change of fortune for the republican nominee. One voter said, “No, I’m not surprised at all. Once you’ve stuffed as many ballot boxes as I have, you kind of develop a sense of who’s going to win. Especially when you open them and change the boxes”
Fetterman was also infuriated by the third party and write-in votes that could have carried the important election for the democrats. According to sources at Vote.org, over 100,000 votes were cast for Sidney Crosby, and almost 70,000 voters wrote in “Kenny Pickett’s hands.” The Pittsburgh Steelers had to forfeit their sixth-round draft pick for the upcoming year to the Democratic Party, which plans to select a replacement for the aging Presidential position.
When asked for his reaction, Josh Shapiro laughed at our reporters as he ate a comically large bucket of popcorn. His evil twin brother, Benjamin Shapiro, regarded Oz’s win as “purely hypothetical and backed by facts and logic.”
The RNC celebrated Oz’s win on Sunday night with a “cardiology-themed bash,” with the hearts of goats and other innocent beasts spiked on the walls.
Adapted from an excerpt from Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark – edits made in bold.
One time Dr. Oz went to see if he could put a haunt to rest at an AirBnB rental in his settlement in New Jersey. The house, which was notably not in Pennsylvania, had been haunted for about ten days. Several “people” had tried to “stay”“there”“all night”, but they always would get scared out by Elon Musk. Also it worked on the same time dilation rules Narnia worked on if you remember those books so it was physically impossible to stay there for more than a second in the real world. So Dr. Oz took his Bible (Bible is pronounced with a short I sound in this text) and went to the house, went on in, built himself a good fire, and lit a big fat joint. Sat there reading the Bible. He found it a lot more funny than usual. Then just before midnight he heard something moaning in the cellar—walking back and forth, back and forth. Then it sounded like somebody was trying to scream and got sucked off. Then there was a lot of thrashing around and struggling, and finally everything got fun. The Doctor took up his signed copy of The Great Gatsby in one hand and The Art of the Deal in the other, but before he could start reading, he heard Roc coming up the cellar stairs. He sat watching the door to the cellar, and the footsteps kept coming closer and closer. The haunt accidentally stepped onto a treadmill, so this went on for about ten minutes until he saw the doorknob turn, and when the door began to open, he jumped up and hollered, “HAIL TO PITT!!!!!!!!!!!!” The door shut back easy-like, rather like an H20GO! slip n slide, and there wasn’t a sound. The Doctor was trembling a little, but he finally opened the only signed copy of the Bible and read for a while. Realizing that he was illiterate this whole time, he got up and laid the book on the chairand returned to enjoying his Devil’s lettuce (the terpenes were potent that evening, with prominent cinnamon undertones present on the palette). Then the haunt started walking again and—step! step!—step!—up the cellar stairs. Each step fell like a grand piano on a whoopee cushion. Dr. Oz sat watching the door, saw the doorknob turn and the door open. A dull roar said “hail…to…” and the voice trailed off before Oz could catch what it said. It looked like an anthropomorphic panther. He backed up and said, “Who are you? What do you want? Keep it down, you’re interrupting my Bible-study Bananza!“
Roc sort of swayed like he didn’t know what to do—then he just faded out. Dr. Oz waited, waited, and when he didn’t hear any more noises, he went over and made some noises. He was sweating and trembling all over, slightly aroused, but he was a weakling of a man and he thought he’d be able to see it through. So he turned his chair to where he could watch, spinning a few times because he could not resist, and he sat down and waited. It wasn’t long before he heard the haunt start up again, slowly—step!—step!—step!—step!—closer, and closer step!—step!—it started to reverse away from the door and step!—step!—step!—step!—step!—step!—step!—step!— Now its time to get funky (funky…funky…)! It was back where it started. Dr. Oz stood up and held his Bible out before him. He accidentally “exorcized” himself since he was holding the Bible the wrong way. The demons his mother and religious trauma gave him swiftly left his body. He felt like a new man. Then the knob slowly turned, and the door opened wide. This time The Doctor spoke with flamboyant confidence. He said, “In the name of the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria (said like John C. Reilly)—who are you and why do you hail?” The panther came right across the room, straight to him, and took hold of his coat all easy-like. “I AM THE ONE WHO HAILS!”Oz felt kinda turned on. What is this feeling? It was a really stupid coat. His fur was torn and tangled, and the flesh was dropping off his face so he could see the bones and part of his teeth. He had no chin, but there was a sort of blue light way back in his eye sockets which could be blocked by Felix Gray glasses. And he had no nose to his face. Then it started hailing. Hailing so unbelievably hard. It was like no hailing ever seen before. It sounded like his voice was coming and going with the wind blowing it. He told how his lover had killed himbecause he was actually a murderer and buried his body in the time capsule under the panther statue. He said if the Doctor would dig up his bones and bury him properly, he could rest. Then he told him to take the fat joint from his left hand, and to smoke it in the collection plate at the next church meeting—and he’d find out who had murdered him. (Dr. Oz blushed as he was ashamed to admit that he was the murderer.) And he said, “If you come back here once more after that—you’ll hear my voice at Midnights (https://www.taylorswift.com/), and I’ll tell you where my monkey is hid, and you can give it to the church.” The haunt sobbed like he was tired, and he sunk down toward the floor and was gone. A nearby mole had a heart attack and was sent to the ER. Oz found his bones and buried them in the graveyard. The next Sunday, as the clock struck 00:00 on the Scott Hanson NFL Redzone countdown clock,Dr. Oz put the joint in the collection plate, and when a certain man happened to touch it, it got him faded. The man jumped up and hoo-ed and ha-ed and rubbed and scraped and tore at that joint, trying to get it off. Then he went to screaming in an F#6 falsetto, reminiscent of his time at the Pitt Glee Club, like he was going crazy, because he was in Pitt Glee Club. He was actually going through a sexuality crisis (not Glee-related). Well, he confessed to the murder, and being in Glee club, and they took him to horny jail (BONK). After finding out the man was hung like a horse, Oz went back to that house one Midnights (https://www.taylorswift.com/), and Roc’s voice asked Oz to be the Jacob to his Renesmee and told him to dig under the hearthrock. What is a hearthrock? Nobody knows. He did, and he found a big sack of monkey (the monkey unfortunately did not survive living in the big sack because there was no food). And where that haunt had held on to his coat, the print of the worst joint ever was burned right into the cloth. It never did come out like the preacher (the preacher was a closeted bi guy).
His work done, the Doctor stepped into his TARDIS (patented the Great and Powerful ™) and traveled back to the future to fight his nemesis Johnathan Karl Fetterman on the Golden Brick Road in the Land of OZ.
And then Walter fucking White won the Pitt costume contest.
Always remember to check your kid’s Halloween candy for Critical Race Theory this All Hallows Day Before.
On Saturday, September 17th, Nordenberg Hall experienced its third fire-related evacuation of the semester. The hall, mainly inhabited by freshman students and misfortunate Resident Assistants (RA’s), was surrounded by flashing lights and sirens Saturday night as students filed down the stairs and out the front door.
According to Floor 8 North RA Jane Smith, the fire alarm was set off by a group of students on Floor 7, who had “accidentally” misplaced their chemistry textbooks in the microwave, inducing a small fire. “Floor 8 residents would never do something like that,” says Smith. “Men are the worst,” she continues, referring to the fact that the 8th floor houses exclusively female residents. Smith also claims that there was an unrelated issue happening simultaneously in which a student got stuck in an elevator, and promptly fell to their death as the firefighters finally managed to pry open the elevator doors. The identity of this student is still unknown, but the situation is being monitored.
Despite the flurry of attacks on the pseudonymous social media site YikYak directed toward Nordenberg Hall residents, the evacuation frenzy seemed to have died down by Sunday morning. Until, that is, another fire was reported–this time with no particular cause. Allegedly, Nordenberg Hall retaliated–due to the aggressive and disrespectful nature in which its residents treat the building–by lighting a student–who has requested to stay anonymous at this time– on fire. The student survived but remains in critical condition at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center. Despite residents calling for more decisive action, Panther Central has continued installing fire extinguishers and fire blankets in every dorm without any further action.
As of October 1, 2022, The Eatery at Towers will now go by the name of The Shittery. This name change comes after multiple gastroenterologists at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center came together to talk about various University of Pittsburgh students coming to them about no longer needing IBS medication on account of no longer experiencing symptoms.
Three of the medical miracle first-year students consented to interviews with The Pitiful News. Their names have been redacted to protect the sanctity of their bowels and their dignities.
The first student admitted to eating at The Eatery once or twice a day during Welcome Week and once a day every week since. They said they went from “two quality shits every three days to three fulfilling shits a day.” They also stated that their frequent abdominal pain has “completely subsided.” When asked about their favorite dish the student said they really enjoyed the stir fry noodles from Crave Global. They said that the overwhelming amounts of sodium made them feel like they “were back home on the beach.” Nothing like a little extra MSG to kickstart your afternoon.
The second student commented on no longer having the need to “immediately defecate.” He said he could not be more relieved that he no longer experiences frequent indigestion and nausea. This student said that their trips to The Eatery have been more frequent as he has noticed a decline in his symptoms. His favorite meal this year has been the Pesto Pizza at Cucina. “The deep green color is comforting,” he stated. He wished not to comment on what the florescent cuisine did to his stool.
Finally, the third student said that The Eatery has been the only form of treatment that has ever worked for her. Her prior experiences with “various medications, including various laxatives, antidiarrheal, and antibiotics as well as common at-home treatments like a high fiber diet and stress management” have “not even come close” to the effects she is experiencing since moving to Oakland. Her favorite meal of the year has been the “marinated pork” from the 446 Diner (this dish is also known by the names “shmeat” and “mystery meat”).
We would also like to congratulate Dr. Carla Panzella, the University of Pittsburgh’s Dean of Students, for becoming the number one shareholder in Procter & Gamble stock. The campus’s recent skyrocket in Pepto-Bismol sales at The Market at Towers and the Forbes Street Market made the purchase a no-brainer for the school representative. The purchase of the stock will be a factor in the tuition increase for the 2023 fall semester.
The Pitiful News members levitate, raising chalices of blood, chortling, guffawing, busting guts, and kikiing with their friends. It’s dark outside, and no one is going anywhere. Ever. The door is locked. Everyone is looking for a way out, feigning interest in the Pitiful News overlords, terrified to contribute to a shared Google document for the cult’s first meeting of the semester. They know that whatever words uttered in this room might be their last. The only bit of hope they can cling to is the guest appearance from the Emmy Award Winning fly™.
The third floor of the Cathedral of Learning, where the Pitiful News hosts its meetings, was ominously lit by candlelight. They were not practicing safe fire practices. The stairwell smelt of burnt hair and a decaying Roc fursuit was found in the corner of what remained of room 349. The walls began to bleed as the meeting began with an inhuman chanting, followed by several hours of compulsory silence. The EYES of Dr. TJ Eckleberg on the wall searched for those who were truly dedicated to the art of satire, finally closing when all those who were unworthy were raptured.
“I’ve never been more scared in my life,” said a new member, who requested to remain anonymous out of fear. “I was looking for the a cappella club, but someone grabbed me and pulled me into the room. It was the most scared I’d ever been. I shuddered as the door shut behind me and the EYES rose upon the classroom’s only chalkboard. Do not come to this club, lest you be consumed by Hellfire in Satan’s Pitt. I was forced to come up with that as a so-called ‘satirical tweet,’ but please, for the love of god get me out. This is a cry for help. THIS IS A CRY FOR HELP!” Despite not planning on returning for any more meetings, this anonymous student has already listed ‘Senior Satire Writer’ on their resume.
Some members felt terror in different ways: “When I told a joke the room went completely silent. The EYES stared at me for a long time. They looked into my soul and found my ‘Was it so funny you forgot to laugh’ quip wanting. YOUR BLOOD IS NOT EVEN WORTHY OF SACRIFICE. They locked the door. I want to get back in,” said a student found crying next to room 349.
One student shuffles nervously when asked about the proceedings of the meeting, “They cut my neck and asked for a blood sacrifice, holding my head over a gilded chalice. Then everyone took a sip. It reminded me of my First Communion.” When asked, an attendee commented on the taste, saying the blood was “lacking in iron.” There will be an “official” tutorial on how to properly swirl the chalice by a wine steward following the next meeting.
Another student was more positive about their experiences when interviewed. “Oh yeah, I’ve been in a number of cults. I’ve made more money leading, but I’ve always had more fun following. I think we really get too much of a bad rep. When it comes down to it, what is a cult but a close-knit community?” When asked about rumors of blood sacrifices conducted by the club, the student refused to comment further.
The “president” of the “club”, “Evan Rafferty”, took a different track, choosing to affirm all of these alleged practices. “Pitt administration will probably do nothing”, he added, gleefully.
Ben Adams, the “vice president” of the “Pitiful News”, began to reference obscure chess matches that the rest of the members rejected from the discourse. He remained silent for the rest of the meeting.
Ella Mizera, the “business” manager, was alleged to have ascended during the initial meeting and was never seen again. Mizera remains unavailable for comment.
Another student was quite surprised to find out that the club was satirical and did not actually document real-world events. “My world was shattered”, the student stammered. “Were the South-O slip and slides ever real?” The student was also devastated to hear that the movement to repeal the Third Amendment was also a farce. “All I’m saying is he made some good arguments!”
The new members’ EYES were glued open, Clockwork Orange style, as they were forced to watch pornography as a group. They were practicing their “edging” skills, as said by a “club” “representative”. The head of adult material, Dexter Grafenburg, said that “the viewing of pornography is essential for the development of new satirical material.” Patrick Gallagher also made a surprise appearance, but quickly left after a FaceTime call request from his wife.
Also present was a CW Network representative who was looking for inspiration for the impending renewal of “(s)hit” show Riverdale. The representative was not allowed to make a statement due to the signing of a nondisclosure agreement, but we can only assume the ominous atmosphere surrounding the club will be essential to the Jughead-Betty-Archie love triangle in Season 5(?).
Resident priest John Smithsonian attempted a quick exorcism and consecration session but to no avail. “That club is messed up,” Smithsonian stated. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” Pitiful News presidents attempted to convert Smithsonian to the demonic faith. After throwing a bit of holy water, Smithsonian fled the meeting. “Coward? Me? Would a coward be named John Smithsonian? I don’t think so,” Smithsonian exclaimed in his final statements to us.
Bafflingly, we’ve received more testimonials about the club than actual people who went. The only members we know were actually there were the ones in the photo (see above). If you find anyone who actually went to this club, please contact Pitt News staff immediately. Five dining dollars will be given.
After this series of events, this club is now contained by the SCP Foundation. All of the “members’ ” “bodies” and “records” of this “club” have been burned as a containment measure.
Today, officials of Pittsburgh’s best and brightest neighborhood announced a change that might take some getting used to. In a shocking move, the home for most of the University of Pittsburgh’s undergrads, S. Oakland, will be known as ‘Soak Land’ for the rest of the summer and brings some pretty exciting changes. The mayor of Soak Land, Jerold Bongstank, announced the new direction for the community in front of a crowd of billions of excited onlookers. With climate change resulting in increasing temperatures throughout July and August, Bongstank desired a fun, accessible, and unique way for residents to cool off while still getting outdoors and enjoying the sunshine. The new Soak Land moniker will hopefully bring in a new wave of tourists to the neighborhood, resulting in an influx of cash to small, local, community-owned stores like Rite-Aid. Soak Land officials say that the new name has no connection to the Mormon act of soaking, but it may begin to market itself to BYU students with this association in mind.
“I think that including space for public fun is essential for increasing happiness, joy, various vermins, and letting me show off my freshly chiseled beach bod,” said Bongstank. In addition to the new name, Bongstank has announced a number of public works projects that will convert the neighborhood into an ‘outdoor Great Wolf Lodge, but without that stupid wizard quest crap.’ The sidewalks will soon be covered with tarps that are regularly slicked with dish soap and various crude oils for a wet and wild perambulatory experience, and all fire hydrants will be cracked open with a sledgehammer for a high-pressure shower to cool off in the summer heat. Also promised with this conversion are several big buckets that drop thousands of gallons of water onto anyone unlucky enough to be within a 500-foot radius of the impact zone. One city council member expressed concern over the environmental impact of this extraordinary amount of water on the soil and road conditions but was quickly carried away by a large swarm of rats to cheers from the crowd and calls for a beheading and further violent revolutionary acts.
The announced changes will be implemented ASAP, according to neighborhood officials. Soak Land promises to have an open dialogue with residents to ensure that losers not interested in participating in The Wetness will be relocated elsewhere.
“In these changing times, we must allow ourselves to change with them,” said Bongstank.
The Pitiful News 