Five years in Orbit, man!

Five years. That ain’t that long in geologic or astronomical time, but it’s an eternity in the blogosphere. Why, a child born on the eve of The Orbit‘s maiden voyage, in late January, 2015, is old enough to have jettisoned countless sad toys from perambulators and open minivan doors by now. If you were following the physical evidence of The East End Dangler or the mystery of the golden babies, well, it’s all gone up, come down, and the trails have gone cold.

One of the golden babies in Lawrenceville, 2016: still a mystery, but no longer hanging around.

In the world of petroleum exploration, there is a known paradox. On the one hand, crude oil is a limited resource that takes millions (billions?) of years to be naturally brewed and we human beings are (quite literally) burning through massive amounts of it every day. Even setting aside all of the wake-in-the-night-screaming affects of global warming, this is simply an unsustainable pace that can’t last forever. We’re going to run out, sooner rather than later, right?

Well, you’d think so, but the history of oil exploitation tells a different story. It’s one where repeated technological advancements continue to open up entirely new, untapped resources and have, amazingly, kept gas prices incredibly low. Stand back and think about how a limited supply natural resource can get extracted from the earth, shipped over oceans, run through the refining process, distributed across America, and still be cheaper per ounce than bottled water. It is mind boggling.

Oil drilling on Oil Creek. Part of the large diorama of Petroleum Center in Oil Creek State Park, Venango County.

A similar conundrum faces the speculative journalist engaged in hyper-local niche blogging. As long as there are children, their teddy bears and baby dolls will inevitably end up left behind on playgrounds and sidewalks, sure, and we’ll (hopefully) always have artists finding new ways to express themselves on dumpsters, street signs, and the backsides of buildings. In this pained analogy, these are the Orbit‘s evergreen renewable resources.

But it’s unlikely the region will see any new Russian Orthodox churches, epic sets of city steps, or ghost signs for Owl Cigars and Mother’s Best Flour. We can get exactly one story each from oddball cultural attractions like the Donora Smog Museum, Randyland, or DeBence Antique Music World–and then that ship has sailed, likely forever.

Limited resource: we’ve got a bunch of them, but there are still only so many onion-domed churches to go around. St. Nicholas Orthodox Church, Donora.

There is a long list of potential story ideas that’s been kicking around this last half-decade. It’s got a bunch of new prospects and lots of things have gotten crossed-off as they’ve been reported-on, but many just haven’t had any movement. Will we ever get to tell the story of The Cardboards or Hans Brinker & The Dykes? Did the documentation on Andy Warhol’s weight set die with John Riegert? When will we ever make it to Latrobe for a Jioio’s pizza?

Not your average pie. Beto’s Pizza, Beechview.

SO, reflecting on this fifth anniversary–three hundred and some articles into the deep exploration of greater Pittsburgh’s nether regions–the desire to keep doing the poking, the picture-taking, the ink-spilling is as strong as ever, but … we want you do us a favor, though.

If you’re a regular reader [and if you’ve made it this far, we’re guessing that’s you] then you know the kinds of things we’re after. If you’ve got a tip on a unique pizza joint, a super-fan’s crazy antics, the keys to a long-locked ex-tavern, a street art phenomenon, connections to the polka underground, or anything else too far off-the-radar for, you know, “lame stream media” (other media sources: just jaggin’!) then we would love to hear about it.

You can reach the Orbit hot tip line either through our Contact page or email pittsburghorbit [at] gmail.com.

You don’t actually have to go to the side porch to contact us.

Lastly, a big thank you to everyone who’s ever taken the time to read a story, pass it on to a friend, participate in one of our goofy contests, contribute a tip, or leave a thoughtful comment. This is largely a solo endeavor whose main purpose is a kick-in-the-pants to get out the door, go do things, and exercise the fantasy journalist within. So we’d probably still be doing this even if no one was paying attention, but we won’t deny that it’s nice when people do.

Just like those wildcatters drilling for black gold in the blown caliche of West Texas, we’ll keep poking holes in the ground and hopefully we’ll find enough crude to keep us in business.