Stupid Charlie & The Change of Plans

Stupid Charlie & the Change of Plans

�December 9, The Razor

By Swissvale72

 

 

The Background

I�ve oft-written of my Patriot friend, Stupid Charlie�or, at those frequent times when I�m angry with him�Stupid Fuckin� Charlie.�

 

Stupid Charlie was born and raised in Newton, MA, a Jewish enclave just west of Boston.� His dad was a successful lawyer, his mom was a JAP (not the Asian variety, but the other one�.).� His brother Howie was, and is, a loudmouth.� Charlie�s no slouch in that department as well.� The whole family talk�s way loud as the dad had hearing loss, which reportedly prevented him from being another Alan Dershowitz.� Stupid Charlie was, in the New England vernacular, a �wicked slob,� resulting in his coming home from high school one day, and seeing all his shit hanging from trees in his front yard, compliments of his mom, who got sick of his habits, and tossed everything out the window in a fit of rage.� I�ve seen a pic of Stupid Charlie in high school.� You think the pompadoured guy on the message board was bad?� Stupid Charlie�s hair could best be described as Brillo gone Berserk, or simply a Bucket of Wire.� Stupid Charlie�s had his hair permmed for years now�.think he goes down to New Haven, talks about a guy with massive biceps who does nails on the side.

 

Stupid Charlie�s family are legitimate New England football fans, not these bandwagon mother-fuckers that just discovered that New England had a professional football franchise in 2001, but rather Patriot season-ticket holders since the AFL�s inception in 1960. Stupid Charlie�s followed his Patriots in Harvard Stadium, BU�s Nickerson Field, Fenway Pahk, Schaeffer Stadium, and now into The Razor.� Stupid Charlie�s also made the trek to Pittsburgh to see his Pats on more than one occasion.� Last trip in was the Halloween game in �04.� Stupid Charlie�s walking through the Heinz lots with me, being ridiculed with calls of �Hey�nice hair,� �.shit like that.

 

Stupid Charlie�s first trip to Pittsburgh also marked my most egregious error in my life-long efforts to turn Mrs. Swiss into a Steeler fan�.well, at least�..soften her identity as the Anti-Fan.� Was 1981.� The weekend started by the three of us, me, Mrs. Swiss, and Stupid Charlie, driving the 11 hours to Pittsburgh on Saturday for the Sunday game. �I sat with my brother, TonyV15220, sat Mrs. Swiss with Stupid Charlie.� Big Fuckin� Mistake.� Steelers led the Pats late, 21-7�.Pats tied it on two late TDs (we got screwed on a non-call when Matt Cavanaugh clearly stepped out of the end zone, Steelers should�ve had a safety).� In OT�..like the sign said in TRS�.�12+88=6.�� It was Bradshaw to Swann for the game-winner.� Surely this was the game that made Mrs. Swiss a fan!!� She and Stupid Charlie approached at our designated meeting spot.� �Didja like it; didja like it,� I said, eagerly, certain that she was now a Steeler fan.� �Don�t you ever do that to me again,� Mrs. Swiss replied angrily.� She went on to recount how Stupid Charlie has embarrassed her, made her feel unsafe, by carrying on like an idiot in Three Rivers Stadium.� When she attempted to relieve her tension through laughter, he warned her, �Don�t laugh at me; don�t you dare laugh at me.�� The sat in the Upper Deck, first row.� She was sure that our Steelers brothers & sisters were conspiring to toss Stupid Charlie�s ass over the rail, and would have, in fact, done so, had the Steelers not won.� Upon our return to Swissvale, my mom had prepared a Dago feast.�� Stupid Charlie would have none of it, went upstairs, went the fuck to bed, didn�t come out until we left the next day.

 

In addition to Stupid Charlie and I working together, he lived in a condo across the way from us�..was always hanging around.�� We made a bet once, I forget on which game, but the terms were that if I lost, I had to spring for a turkey dinner, which Mrs. Swiss would cook.� If Charlie lost, he had to spring for the turkey dinner�.which Mrs. Swiss would cook (she didn�t like this bet).� Stupid Charlie lost, gave Mrs. Swiss a ten-dollar bill. Charlie�.what the fuck!!

 

We bought our first house in 1983, just the two of us, a 9-room house, 5 bedrooms.� As is often the case with the prospect of one�s first home, we didn�t know if we could make the mortgage.� Somehow, and I honestly don�t remember who initiated the discussion, the conversation turned to Stupid Charlie selling his condo, moving in with us, taking 3 of the upstairs bedrooms as his �suite.�� We bought the house in August, were in there for a few months, found out that yes, we could afford it.� The phone rings the day after Thanksgiving.� �Hey, Dude�.I just sold my condo.� I�m moving in tomorrow.��� And thus, Stupid Charlie was our housemate for the next two fuckin� years.�� We still blame Stupid Charlie when shit gets broken or spilled.� �Who the fuck spilled cranberry juice on the floor�must�ve been Stupid Charlie.�� I�m then reminded that��Uhhhh�.Stupid Charlie doesn�t live with us anymore�.moved out, oh�22 years ago.�

 

One last piece of Stupid Charlie background.� In addition to being a New England oddity, a legitimate football fan, he�s also a huge fan of Vinnie�s Pizza.� I turned Charlie on to Vinnie�s during one of our Steelers-Pats trips in the �80s.� I had always told Stupid Charlie that it was the planet�s best pizza (�..and I don�t wanna hear about that New Haven bullshit, frequented by beauticians and transvestites).� Stupid Charlie wouldn�t believe it�.but it was love at first site�.so much so that when Stupid Charlie finished graduate school in �87, some of his other friends offered to take him out to dinner, anywhere east of the Mississippi.� Stupid Charlie, immediately, said, �Take me to Vincent�s Pizza in Pittsburgh.�� Stupid Charlie paid my brother Ralph once to FedEx him a Vinnie�s pie to his New Hampshire abode.� We didn�t know when it was coming.� Stupid Charlie calls me excitedly one day, letting me know of the famous pie�s arrival.� I booked it over to Stupid Charlie�s house, pie�s heating in the oven.� We take it out�..it smells funny��there�s green shit all over it.� The fuckin� pie�s moldy.� It killed us, absolutely killed us, to throw that pie away.� We seriously discussed whether we should eat it anyway.� Turned out that Charlie, in his New England accent had given Ralph an address of �Mah-tin Avenue.�� Ralph thought he said �Mountain.�� The fuckin� pie was shipped to New Hampshire, then sent back to Pittsburgh, whereupon Ralph just shipped it again to the proper address. It was about two fuckin� weeks old��even the best-salted Canadian Bacon has trouble staying edible that long.

 

Okay�.enough of this fuckin� background on Stupid Charlie��

 

The Change of Plans

Back in the summer, Stupid Charlie invited me to attend this year�s Steelers-Pats game with him at The Razor.� I�ve written about it often; described my preference, given my chronic anxiety about these contests, to stay with the four walls of my home, lock the doors, turn off the lights, pull the shades, wear a hood, watch alone.� But, needing to support my Steelers, I knew I had to answer the call�.carry my crusade to Foxboro on December 9^th, walk the gauntlet of the New England assholes, Pats fans engaged in varied douchebaggery, including the perm stand for the Brahmin transgendered population on Foxboro�s Route 1, the New Bedford Moby Dicks, the Back Bay Buttboys, and assorted other GLBTQQ members.

 

Then�yesterday, Stupid Charlie calls me.� �Hey, I know I invited you to go with me to the Steelers-Pats game.� But something�s come up.� Do you want to buy the other ticket.� I�m hosting Hanukah at my house on December 9^th.�� WHAT!!!� What the FUCK are you talking about!!� Hanukah!!� And�y�know what!! Stupid Charlie can�t even blame his wife.� She�s Catholic!!� Turns out Stupid Charlie was sensing that it was his �turn� to host Hanukah, so e-mails all his relatives telling them that the only day he can�t do it is on Sunday, December 9^th.� That must be the very reason that Hanukah for Stupid Charlie�s family is taking place, at Stupid Charlie�s house, on none other than Sunday, December 9^th.� Now listen, don�t take what I�m about to say the wrong way.� I talk about dagos all the time on this site, so I can talk about Jews as well.� You want to think I�m anti-Semitic, go the fuck ahead.� Fuck you.� I know I�m not.� Anyway, while Stupid Charlie�s ass should be at The Razor, watching Steelers-Patriots, he�ll be stuck inside his fuckin� living room, with a bunch of Jews, gathered around a menorah, eating Hunan Beef, General Tso�s chicken, and Shrimp Lo Mein.� Stupid Charlie, on more than one occasion, has said, �I�m feeling Jewish today�.gotta get Chinese.�

So�.both ducats now belong to me.� What to do from here?

 

A New Day�A New Plan

Both ducats now being under my control, I�ll be damned if it�s going to be a Patriots fan sitting beside me.� My brother-in-law wants to go in the worst way.� Fuck him!!� This is the same guy that wants to know if he can carry a beach chair, or a fuckin� chaise lounge, into The Razor if he buys a standing room ticket�.same fuck that attempted to show me pics of a family vacation during the Steelers-Denver AFCCG ( I had to kick his ass out the room�.no shit, he ends up in my Dining Room, during that glorious day, showing pics to his 2 sisters).� No fuckin� way is he going.� I could invite Woburn Joe to go�.he would demonstrate proper decorum, has solid fan cred, even accords appropriate reverence to the Pittsburgh Steelers.� But�.he�s a Pats fan!! No fuckin� way.�

 

There�s only one first choice�..it�s obvious�.Tonyv15220.� After having sat side by side with him �this past Monday night against the Ravens, �for the first time in a Pittsburgh since the infamous StupidCharlieGate of �81 (we did sit in the auxiliary press box in �99 when the Steelers lost to the expansion Browns, and I screamed �I hate you motherfuckers� as the Steelers left the field, causing the assorted scribes to pause from their stories, and causing TonyV15220, who had accessed this entry via his work, a bit of embarrassment), TonyV15220 would be flying to New England, the two of us intent on avenging our Fog Bowl experience of �96.

 

Tony�s flying in on Saturday, our first stop will be my kids� opening high school swim meet�one�s a senior, the other a freshman.� Incidentally, their team colors?� Black�.and fuckin� Gold.� Will be a great warmup for the Main Event on Sunday.� Tony & I will tailgate in the parking lot of the Salem NH Boys & Girls� Club, we�ll wave Terrible Towels, we�ll scream obscenities on the deck, we�ll wish broken fuckin� legs on the opposing swimmers during the Medley Relay�..we�ll ravage the pussified population of New England.

 

The following day, we�ll travel to Foxboro.� We�ll hook up with our Steeler brothers & sisters.� JumboHeadYouks, where the fuck are you?�� That tailgate still on?� Lambert Lunatic?� You in the house?� Jimmy Ze?� You coming up for this one?� RONNYRON�..put down the clippers, the shampoo bottle, and the nail polish.� We�ll unite in the Foxboro Stadium lot.� We�ll take over that fuckin� place.� The Patriots undefeated season will come crashing down on this cold New England December Sunday evening.� The zombies will que out of Foxboro, much like their departure during the Immaculate Interception Game of �97.�

 

The Pittsburgh Steelers will have them thinking Red Sox again.