Pittsburgh Unfiltered

ROBINSON TOWNSHIP—Parties involved in a large Catholic wedding conflict “spanning families, generations, and something said once in 1993” have managed to arrange a ceasefire that will ensure a period of peace lasting at least until the conclusion of the Cupid Shuffle, report sources shouting so loudly they can’t hear hotel staff asking them not to smoke in the lobby.

“And let this commitment to civility, rendered here before the eyes of God and with His blessing, help us not into the darkness of conflict, but instead ‘walk it by ourselves’ into the light of family and friends. Amen,” read Father Luke Moore aloud to a collective amen from other celebrants. The priest, whom the bride has known since childhood, helped to broker the deal in the critical final moments before the bar opened for cocktail hour.

“I’m used to tidying things up within just one family,” said Father Moore, dabbing sweat with a napkin. “Now we’ve got two…or I guess three: everybody here doesn’t like Aunt Kristy. I got the idea for the truce after watching them start a scuffle over a dart game in the hotel bar. One second they’re gripping each other up, the next they’re all yelling, ‘It’s electric!’ and chanting for Jello shots. Once the fight breaks out, all you can really do is douse them with holy water or blast ‘Sweet Caroline’ and hope that attracts their attention.”

Patchwork peacekeeping forces of mutual friends, wedding staff, and people just trying to enjoy their day have worked tirelessly to ensure the agreement’s fidelity. Despite these efforts neutral parties, chatter at the venue suggests the peace is unlikely to last beyond the established time frame.

“I’m going to absolutely clobber Cindy if she keeps strutting around with all these demands like this event is all about her,” said the groom’s cousin Lisa Hildebrand of a bridesmaid. “I didn’t see you up there agreeing to any vows, Cindy, so why don’t you wait in line for a drink like the rest of us, sweetie? She had better hope the ‘Cupid Shuffle’ goes right into the ‘Cha Cha Slide’ to buy her some more time. Else she got about a three-minute warning before I pop her one.”

Wedding sources confirmed that Mrs. Hildebrand has made disparaging comments of varying intensity towards members of the wedding party. Nonetheless, the 32-year-old emphasized that she intends to respect the terms of the agreement in their entirety.

“Rules is rules,” she said, draining a Rum and Coke. “We said no hair and nothing in the face, and I stand by that. Cindy and I are both single and, lady to lady, I respect her goal to end up in a different hotel room tonight. I just don’t respect a single other goddamn thing about her.”

Event sources report that several members of each side hope to finalize an extension to the armistice while the more violence-prone dissenters are in the bathroom vomiting liquor and cookies. Witnesses have confirmed, however, that the latter contingent is rallying quickly after hearing the piano intro to ‘Don’t Stop Believin’.’

ALLEGHENY WEST—Calling it “the century’s single most daring endeavor to chart the unknown,” the North Side Space Administration announced that a vessel with three explorers made its return landing on East Ohio Street yesterday morning to wrap up the program’s first-ever human-led mission to Bethel Park.

“We are just so proud of our mechanical crew, our operations team, and most importantly those brave souls who journeyed into the depths of the unknown,” said program director Parker McElhinney, who had to shout over cheers and pops of champagne bottles from surrounding staff. “We just want to set an example to all those young people out there who stare with wonder at the Liberty Bridge that they, too, can one day reach the great beyond of Pasta Too or the South Park skating rink.”

The agency called the mission a “resounding success,” noting that the crew had gathered critical data points requiring human input to verify, including the proper lane combination for optimized rush hour travel, where to stop for bathroom breaks on Library Road, and if anybody had a good wing night “in case your buddy wants to watch the Pens game over that way because, you know, he’s got the hots for some lady down there.”

Several members of the mission staff confirmed the venture faced several “potentially catastrophic” unknowns the crew was fortunate to survive, most concerning of which was construction that forced the team’s vessel to reroute shortly after entering unfamiliar territory. Instead of a straightforward path through a pocket known as “The Saw Mill,” the crew were redirected through an incredibly dense corridor called Route 19, internally nicknamed “Hell’s Alley.” The resulting change resulted in base operations declaring a highest-tier alert for acute collision risks.

“The local lifeforms behaved oddly,” said urbannaut Frank Mitton. “They brazenly parked their vehicles partway in the thoroughfares and crossed busy stretches of travel at seemingly random intervals. It’s just a hunch, but it’s almost like they acted in a way meant to ward off visitors, which explains why so little of the area has been explored to this point.”

“Everywhere we looked we found signs condemning any vessel stowed in the surrounding area from 2-6 a.m.,” added fellow crew member Anya Gomez. “It seemed like local governing bodies were even adversarial to their own people in this matter, so we had no choice but to power through without delay.”

The administration has refused to comment if any artifacts were gathered for study after reports that an extraterritorial returned with the crew, drunkenly mistaking their vessel for a Lyft pickup from Spoonwood Brewing.

HARMAR—The Ward family gathered this morning to mark the passing of lifelong local and explosives enthusiast Martin Ward, 79, with the ceremonial firing of 21 Zambelli fireworks at his burial.

Per family members, Mr. Ward earned the honors for his years of service at the nearby beer distributor, including a “medal or badge or maybe it was just a citation” for a fireworks display he personally organized and operated for July 4, 1988. They noted that his “heroics” helped reduce the casualty count to two and his youngest brother Jerry’s right thumb.

“The least we coul—” said his oldest daughter Samantha, interrupted by another mortar blast, “the least we could do is send him off how he lived: engaged in a loud, dangerous act of questionable legality.”

As of press time, Mr. Jerry Ward, 68, was reportedly attempting to comfort the children present by offering them a “high four.”

By Gil Dorowicz

Listen, we’re the City of Champions. We know what it takes, what they’re made of. We can smell ’em from a mile away—the sweat, the tears, maybe with a whiff of fried ham on the side. Yinz don’t win on an empty stomach, my old man always told me.

We’ve got a championship team playing right on the Mon—you know, them, uh, whatchamacallits, the Riverhounds! That’s them. They kicked some ass last year and won the Super Kick Cup or whatever they call it.

Point being is this: I saw Sportscenter today call this Paris team the ‘champions’ of soccer. Far’s I’m concerned, they ain’t no goddamn ‘champion’ until they show they can handle a beatdown from our local Riverhounds.

What’s the French ever won? Nothing. We had to bail them out in two World Wars and considering we’re Steel Town, USA, we basically did it ourselves. French fries? Never heard of them; we eat freedom fries with our Heinz.

I mean, come on, is it any surprise Mario Lemieux had to leave French Canada to win some Cups here in the ‘Burgh?

Yeah, you might have beaten some jags from England. Big whoop. So did we about 250 years ago. They’re still reeling so hard, they don’t even got an NFL team yet. If you jags really think you’re the best, then name a time and place, and fork up like $100 million to help organize the whole thing, and we’ll see you there. And even if you do pull off the upset, we’ll still whoop your ass this October after we put the hurt on the Saints.

That, uh, is how sports work in Europe, right?

NORTH SHORE—Pirates fan Jason Yang enjoyed “the chance of a lifetime” last night when the 11-year-old was randomly selected to throw out the game’s last pitch.

“I tried to keep the pep talk simple,” said manager Don Kelly, who called the Ross Township youngster from the stands over his entire bullpen to preserve a 1-0 lead in the middle of a full count. “We know Jason has been in high-leverage situations before like the PSSAs and his aunt Tina’s wedding as a ring bearer, so we felt good about putting him out there on the mound when it mattered most.”

Yang got slammed for eight runs. As of press time, he and the Pirates are reportedly ready to finalize a four-year deal worth $98 million.

MILLVALE—A series of Pennsylvania law enforcement agencies continued their search this morning for Millvale Music Fest Associate Chair Greg Nussmeyer, alleged to have orchestrated “a masterful heist” to embezzle event funds totaling as much as $14.

“We’ve had to expand our search radius by significant margins,” said Sgt. Kiley Mills of the Nussmeyer Search Task Force, “a state-led collaborative operations team.” A state government spokesperson indicated they had shifted to capturing Nussmeyer dead or alive. “With that kind of bankroll, he could be jet-setting on the exotic streets of New Ken or eating Takis in the Getgo parking lot in Edgewood—there’s just no way to know for sure. And if he’s already laundered a hefty portion of it via lottery tickets, well, we might be looking for a needle in a haystack.”

Critics of the search have argued that Nussmeyer, reported by fellow organizers to spend “about 200 days a year” planning the event, likely reimbursed himself for a variety of expenditures that emerge over the course of the weekend. Authorities have thus far dismissed these explanations, suggesting instead that the accused had set up a “slush fund,” used to reference the chair member’s own checking account, to funnel funds to himself.

“A pipe dream of optimism,” said Detective Robert Klein. “Folks really believe a guy like this Nussmeyer fellow can stare at the pot of gold that Millvale Music Fest rakes in every year and resist the temptation. Think of all the things he could do with that $14: get about three gallons of gas; buy a 24-rack of Busch Light; get a large pizza, maybe, if it’s, like, on special or something. Us morally upright folks would have a hard time keep our hands of that kind of scratch, let alone this degenerate.”

Voices standing behind the Millvale local appear to have grown louder since the search has dragged on. Nonetheless, officials consider the evidence provided by a number of whistleblowers trustworthy.

“Come on, do we really think people would just invent these serious accusations just because their band didn’t get accepted?” challenged state spokesperson Regina Monroe. “Or because they didn’t like the venue or slot they were given? Or because the festival refused to recognize their rider of a personal chauffeur and a bottle of Grey Goose? We all know people aren’t that vindictive or petty.”

As of press time, Monroe’s comments came under scrutiny after it was discovered her band’s submission had been rejected for claiming they were a “local group” from Harrisburg.

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ROSS TOWNSHIP—Spirited little man and incessant talker Riley Something or Other continues, despite all objections and inquiries about who is supposed to be supervising him, to go on about his “lifelong dream” to reside permanently inside the Ross Park Mall Cheesecake Factory, according to witnesses who just want to stop at Foot Locker.

Parental sources at the scene appeared unavailable as the self-identified nine-year-old boy assailed passersby with details of his plan and singular life goal to make home in the nearby chain restaurant.

“I’ll make money from ads on my YouTube channel about how I live in a Cheesecake Factory,” said the unrelenting menace, ignoring the typically alluring call of children having fun in the play area to enter a power struggle with any adult willing to challenge his sugar-laden machinations. “I can eat the food people leave behind and I’ll sleep in one of the booths!”

Suggestions that content-driven revenue streams are too meager to survive on and that eating strangers’ leftovers presents an array of personal and commercial health issues were quickly redirected by this little shit into attacks on critics’ appearance, tone of voice, and age.

“That’s because you’re old and nobody cares what you think,” shouted the diminutive bastard, leading a communal chant of “OLD! OLD! OLD!” with the help of a few other kids nearby.

At the time of print, previously annoyed sources had reportedly become more amenable to the proposed living arrangement following the young man’s offer of free cheesecake for life to watch him go down the slide.