While Pittsburgh’s summer weather varies within a range of 40 degrees from year to year, there is one definitively constant indication of the season—church carnivals. Pittsburghers like being charitable. Their charity doesn’t consist of building homes for disaster victims, donating blood, or simply writing checks, but instead, putting hard earned dollars up against the luck of a church in hopes of winning its money. If a Pittsburgher loses money, then it’s considered charity.
The standard church carnival will have bingo, craps, money wheels, a lottery, beat the dealer dice, a ring toss to take children’s money, and poker or blackjack (only for the high-rolling philanthropists). These events are so highly anticipated that Pittsburghers plan their summer trips around their favorite carnival. In fact, if a Pittsburgher were to read the previous litany of standard carnival happenings, he would most likely withdraw money from his daughter’s college fund in preparation for the big day.
Church carnivals are the perfect opportunity for Pittsburghers to reclaim the money they spent on nun pierogies in the winter, not to mention the cash that those pushy basket-men at church weasel out every Sunday. Thankfully, these opportunities are made possible by the Pittsburgh Gaming Commission (aka. Catholic Diocese of Pittsburgh).
Pittsburgh church carnivals also frequently raffle off cars. If the car being raffled is a Ford Focus or Chevy Cobalt, the church is unlikely to sell many tickets because most Pittsburghers already own these fine automobiles. But if the church is selling chances at a Mustang, this is the perfect time for a Pittsburgher to fulfill his life’s purpose. Pittsburghers like muscle cars.
Since tickets for raffled cars are usually on sale weeks before the actual carnival, there are many opportunities for Pittsburghers to cut corners on everyday necessities. Their families sacrifice basic grocery items in exchange for chances at this coveted vehicle (probably for its unparalleled performance on unplowed roads, riddled with potholes under eight inches of snow).
Rather than giving a Pittsburgher a $25 gift card to Applebee’s for his birthday, get him ten one-dollar chances at roughly a decade of 500-horsepower happiness. Your generosity will mark you as the kind of friend that appreciates irresponsible gambles for minimal return and impractical vehicles, all in the name of charity.
ajgrieco
