I know this is yesterday’s news, but I couldn’t believe the hullabaloo that was made over the Big Beaver Falls Area Senior High School student who was made to sit on the floor to take a test because he was wearing a Denver Broncos jersey the week before the AFC Championship Game. The student said that he felt humiliated and “was dehumanized.” This incident happened in an honors class on ethnic relations. I don’t know about you, but I’d feel more humiliated and dehumanized by going on TV and admitting that I was taking an honors class on ethnic relations than I would be from being pelted by paper by my classmates. If I lived in the Big Beaver Falls Area School District, I’d demand a refund of a portion of the school taxes I paid. No wonder the Japanese are so far ahead of us.

Pop star Bryan Adams took the stage Sunday night in Pakistan to raise money for victims of the South Asian earthquake that killed 87,000 and left millions homeless. Though it was the first time that many of the Pakistanis ever heard his music, the crowd reacted positively to Adams’ music, however they were disappointed to learn after the show that the classic “Summer of ‘69” was actually about the year 1969 and not the year 69 A.D.

Thanks to Bob for reminding me that the P-G’s Ruth Ann Dailey is the ex-wife of WTAE’s Scott Baker. Apparently the P-G’s webmaster was never notified that the two are no longer wed. Dig the URL of Ruth Ann’s online bio: http://www.post-gazette.com/columnists/bio_baker.asp

Three members of York rock band Live escaped injury when the United Airlines Express jet they were on made an emergency landing in Chicago Sunday. In addition to escaping injury, the band also escaped being involved in what would arguably be the most ironic accident in history.

Even the normally reserved voice that provides the time and temperature compliments of Duquesne Light has the Super Bowl Fever!

Dial (412) 391-9500 to listen. This guy should MC the victory celebration.

Apparently juiced by the success of Wendy Bell’s Baby Blog, WTAE has started “Super Bowl Blog: Behind The Scenes,” a blog featuring the musings of Sheldon Ingram and my beloved Sally Wiggin detailing their experiences covering the Super Bowl. Although Wendy Bell’s blog is a tough act to follow, this one looks like it’s going to be pretty good. So far there’s some trash talking by Sheldon with respect to how he believes that WTAE’s coverage is “poised to make the other stations look like Pop Warner competition.” He concludes that entry with this heartfelt advice: “Whatever you do, be safe, be considerate of others, don’t drink too much, love your family and continue to watch Channel 4 Action News.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Perhaps what I found most surprising so far from the blog is Sally Wiggin’s revelation that the whole WTAE entourage drove to Detroit. I can’t believe they wouldn’t fly a woman of her stature to Detroit. I just hope she didn’t get stuck in the car with Hilgrove. That would have added insult to injury. (Oh, I’m kidding. Relax.)

I’m having one of those “Is it me?” days today.

I can’t blink today without reading or hearing something about the whacked couple from Indiana, PA who named their poor son “Seven.” The Post-Gazette wrote about the child today, my beloved WTAE featured a story about him today, and even T&A’s favorite blogging dime-piece shorty, PittGirl addressed the story today. I wasn’t going to add to the coverage today, but I feel that I have no choice but to comment because no one else is saying what needs to be said, and it all seems so blatantly obvious to me.

Baby Seven’s mother claims that she was inspired “to go with something numerical” after driving by an 84 Lumber sign. To her I say, “I’m sorry sister, but I’m not buying what you’re selling.” Am I the only person on the face of the earth who can see that naming this baby “Seven” was obviously inspired by the Seinfeld episode (Season 7, Episode 123, originally broadcast February 1, 1996) in which George Costanza reveals to his fiancé Susan that he wants to name their first child “Seven”?! Don’t get me wrong—I don’t have an issue with someone naming their child Seven—but what I do take severe umbrage with is Seven’s mother claiming that the name was her original idea. If going with “something numerical” was really her idea, isn’t it a bit of an incredible coincidence that the couple chose the same number as George Costanza out of an infinite number of choices? C’mon now, people! Is she also going to name her next child “Soda” and claim that she was inspired by a refreshing soft drink? Bollocks!

Seven’s mother also revealed that after Seven watched his first Steelers game, the connection to the Steelers #7, Ben Roethlisberger was instant. The family believes that the connection is so strong that his grandmother bought him Roethlisberger jerseys in every size up to a men’s adult large, just in case they’re no longer available as Seven grows older. As George Costanza explained and as Seven’s family seems to be confirming by their Big Ben jersey purchases, “Seven” is a great name because not only is it an all around beautiful name, it is also a living tribute (to Mickey Mantle in George’s case). For Seven’s sake (and the Steelers as well), I hope Big Ben doesn’t catch the mysterious Steve Blass disease and start sucking because Chuck Tanner and Joey Mullen jerseys are hard to come by now, not to mention ten or fifteen years from now.

Anyway, I couldn’t believe today that no one challenged Seven’s mother’s dubious claim that she thought up the name all by herself, almost ten years after the name was featured in a Seinfeld episode which has been shown in reruns countless times since. If you believe that this woman thought up the name “Seven” after seeing a sign for a lumber company, remind me to tell you the story about a mean-spirited chef I know who only sells soup; such the curmudgeon is he that in my immense originality, I dubbed him “the Soup Nazi.”

In closing, I believe Jerry Seinfeld himself said it best in that classic Seinfeld episode ten years ago, “Seven periods of school per day, seven beatings a day, seven stitches per beating, followed by seven years to life.”