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2009: A Harder Look Ahead

There is nothing finer a man can do than to rip off another man’s work so blatantly and without remorse.

Today I oblige by thieving from my cohort and often times partner in crime Bob Woolsey, whom several hours ago made bold predictions about the upcoming year of our Lord, 2009.

I was born February 16th, 1985, on the same pool table in Newark, N.J. where I was conceived. In grade four I got an award for a short story I wrote, mostly because I was the only child to submit theirs into the contest.  I worked at McDonalds for two and a half years, never felt any real trauma or pain in my childhood, and graduated high school with mediocre grades and aspirations. Oh, and when I was three I fell down a flight of stairs and cut my chin on a vase. Nineteen years later I fell down a similar flight of stairs while stoned out of my mind looking for a vase to put stolen flowers in. I guess you could say my life has come full circle.

So it is with great accomplishments already behind me that I look forward to 2009 and the challenge of going farther. Further? Farther? Fuck. Let’s just look ahead.

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Things Hip Hop Music Has Taught Me

I like hip hop. Granted I wear a belt with my pants and despise uncurved baseball hats, but I do enjoy it when an MC steps to the mic like a phantom and drops lyrics that could skin a cat.

For years I was confused about the difference between “rap” and “hip hop”.

What are the fundamental anomalies? Is there a clear line between the two? Who is Funkmaster Flex?

I suppose I could have investigated the issue, perhaps asked around. Instead, I just made up my own mind and defined the rule as it stands to me. Because really, musical taste is a tricky bitch. We all like different things; a lot of people probably hate your favorite band and the sooner you understand that the better off you’ll be. So why now make up your facts?

This is my hypothesis: Rap is money/hoes/guns. Hip hop is about the beats and the musicianship. It’s soulful and poetic.

Hip hop is also about guidance, leadership and life lessons.

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Andrew as Leader 2: Squash the Uprising

Last week I outlined my plan to unite North America into a single nation, whimsically dubbed “Canmerico”.

I promised to legalize gay marriage, disband the navy, and publicly beat up Fred Phelps. Reactions were mixed.

Some argued that my strategies for gaining control of the government were in direct conflict to the freedom I wished to grant. Those people are jerks and should be ashamed of themselves.

Like any good dictator, I am back with a second wave. Below are further plans to maximize democracy and show the rest of the world how to rock the shit.

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Andrew as Leader

While I am not an American citizen or even technically a Canadian citizen (off the grid, baby), I do fashion myself a politico-space monkey capable of making a decision or two.

And I’ve decided that it would be best for North America if all three countries folded into one nation, to be ruled over by a supreme power of unrelenting fear. Me.

I know the jargon. I have the swagger. I possess the gab. I can lead a nation. I will lead a nation. These nations!

So come with me, please, as I take you on a journey of the policies and practices I would implement as captain of the ship, leader of the band, Toucan of the Sam.

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Dear Starbucks,

Several moons ago I made outlandish hate speech regarding the corporate coffee apparatus known by the proletariat as The Starbucks.

I suggested that Starbucks was inherently evil, due to its gross popularity, bean-business, and fashioning of a pseudo-elitist culture.

I may have over-stepped my bounds.

I would like to issue a formal apology on this Internet, and ask that Starbucks and its customers forgive my rash and thoughtless denouncement.

I am truly sorry.

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Intolerance is Gay

The English Dictionary defines intolerance as “a lack of toleration”. Wait. Son of a whore!

The English Dictionary defines “tolerance” as “a fair, objective, and permissive attitude toward those whose opinions, practices, race, religion, nationality, etc. differ from one’s own”.

So to be “intolerant” or to “not tolerate” means that one holds attitudes and opinions against others whose lifestyle differs from his or her own.

Being a straight white male under thirty is a pretty sweet gig. I have never experienced sexism, racism, or even ageism in my entire life. Sure, there was that one instance when this guy threw a tennis ball at my face, but I’m fairly certain that was because he caught me sifting through his picnic basket.

I only took two pears and a roast beef sandwich. Don’t know why his daughter was crying.

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Ways the World Will End

I’m not going to lie: the world is going to end*.

If not today, then tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, then sometime in the distant future.

But today, I offer a jaunting reality check for those of you too lazy to accept this planet’s fate.

*Not be based on fact, rather years of pop culture consumption and irresponsibly speculation.

(The “YEAH” banner, usually reserved for positive posts, has been implemented to soften the blow of the truth that’s about to be revealed. I promise you, loyal readers, far fewer lies next time.)

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Thanksgiving: Turkey & Knowledge, Together At Last!

Today is real Thanksgiving.

I say real because the Yanks also celebrate the rape and near-genocide of a people later in the year- towards the end of November. However Bob and I hail from Canada, so we shall pay tribute to the day of thanks today. Sunday, bloody Sunday!

So, gather the family around the computer- mom and dad, little sister Sally, Uncle Evan, Grandpa Joe, cousin Kevin’s “friend” Richard- and enjoy a celebration of Thanksgiving.

You may find this… most delicious!

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The Way of The Woman: Tame The Lady Without Rohypnal

This blog is not for the ladies. This blog for the men who want to get the ladies.  (This blog is also for hunting enthusiasts, but I’ll get to you later.)

The goal of this blog is to turn you from Steve Urkle in to Stephan Urkell.  Anything less and I will consider myself an utter failure.

The following six steps will help you master the female species and become a true player in every sense of the word.

So enough pig fuckin’. Let’s rumble.

Step One: Learn Charisma

Charisma is an intangible quality like vision or juggling that primarily shows the woman that you can hold a conversation.

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Real Hard Language Time

Words are knowledge, and knowledge is power.

Not power in the sense of a rocket ship or steam engine or a chest-chop by professional wrestling legend Ric Flair, but power nonetheless. And to know language and how to circumvent it is crucial if you wish to communicate on Earth.

I’d like to offer up some helpful language tips, starting with the basics.

This is the American English alphabet.
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

The letters A E I O U and sometimes Y are vowels. The remaining letters- B C D F G H J K L M N P Q R S T V W X Z- are called consonants. Together they form words.  Milk. Phosphorus. Jigger. These are words.

Sentences are made up of words. That was a sentence. And this one. And this one, too.

Phrases are little nuggets of word-strings, like sentences, that relate to other things. Often called idioms, they are most always nonsense but have been embedded in the vernacular and are universally understood.

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iTunes Genius: Andrew vs. The Machine

You may not be aware of Apple Computers, or Steve Jobs for that matter. So I’ll drop some knowledge before I drop the science: he’s the tight black-sweater, blue as blue can be jean wearing son of a bitch who runs Apple Computers.

Perhaps you’ve seen one the many Apple product addresses, where in Mr. Jobs will pull a new iPod out of his ever-decreasing-in-size pockets and a thousand people will orgasm in unison.

At the most recent Apple suck-fest, yes, new iPods were unveiled and yes they are sexy as hell and yes I would trade a testicle for one, but something else was introduced of particular interest to me: iTunes Genius.

More or less a playlist generator, Genius scans your library of music and based on dozens of factors (rhythm, beat, length, genre, level of involvement of Rick Rubin) it populates a list of songs “similar” to the one you selected. It’s great for making quick playlists if you’re in the mood for a particular type of music, or looking for new artists (with links to the iTunes store handy).

But enough suckin’ at the proverbial dink. We’ve got bigger problems.

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This Is Our Youth: A Scathing Yet Honest Review

I am a man of taste, of high regard within the theater community. I have read about many plays, and have seen several filmatic adaptations.

It was with nothing but great pleasure that I sat with to watch This Is Our Youth at the Havana Theatre this week.

The play tells the story of Warren, who after stealing $15 000 from his criminal father, hides out at his friend Dennis’ house. Written by Kenneth Lonergan, This Is Our Youth is modern warhorse of a script, that- along with critical acclaim- has seen many big name actors tackle its meaty limbs of theme and emotion.  The current production features Sean Gilchrist, Andrew Baker, and Sydney Cochrane and is directed by none other than Robert James Woolsey.

It’s a period piece, in the sense that the play is so terrible your body will reject it and you will begin to bleed from your anus.

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Coffee Conundrum a.k.a. Stargh-bucks

I’ve been inside of a Starbucks exactly six times.

Only one instance involved me purchasing a coffee. (The line at Tim Hortons was too long and I can’t go back to Blenz because I made a comment… look, this blog isn’t about me.)

It’s about Starbucks.

Generally I am very pleased when big corporations begin to go bankrupt. I’m not this big, anti-conglomerate socialist guy or anything; merely because I am a contrarian, and that applies to other people’s success.  “Why should your company be so big and powerful?  I will enjoy watching you burn.”

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Pigeon Technology II

If you remember the vicious flow I spewed several moons ago, good on you.

On vineyard land there’s a practice of shooting air cannons to scare away birds and other predators that might eat the wine berries.  It appears Pigeon Technology has been adapted to the detriment of the homeless person yet again.

The bank nearby my place of business has a warm, spacious foyer in which many a hobo has taken the odd slumber. While the general bank is closed, it’s not uncommon to find, two, three, four, five or six hobos napping.  Not once have any of them hassled me for money while I used the ATM, which is unfortunate, because I enjoying lying.

There have been no hobo sleepovers in my bank for the past month. Why? Because a constant, eardrum-crapping beep rings out during the bank’s off-hours.

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Further Considerations of the Phantasmagoric

Sleep, much like the cognate world, has not been kind to me.

I’m often plagued by visions magnifique, thematic elements that haunt me even when I wake.

I’ve noticed that recently, the way I remember my dreams has changed.

Usually I remember whole chunks, stories or acts. Event A led to Event B, which initiated Event C. I can see why things unfolded as they did. Though medical doctors have stated in many reputable studies that one can dream up to a dozen times in a single eight hour session, we only tend to remember the last few before we wake. Fairly normal, across the board sort of occurrences. However my dreams have been cutting in and out, as I seem remember as little as a line of dialogue, or as much as a single scene. It’s as if I’m flipping channels and catching bits and pieces of an old movie on cable.

Something must have happened to cause this shift in recollection… the questions is what?

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Words Said By People That Are Not Me

Do you ever find yourself in a public place, baffled by something you’ve overheard in a conversation unrelated to your own?  We’re not talking about your friends and the stupid things that come out of their mouths (Graeme Beatty); that’s par for the course. I’m speaking strictly of eavesdropping.

The other night, I was walking home from some fuckin’ place, when I happened upon two chaps. They were dressed in in sweater-vests and cargo pants. I quickly assessed that I could take either in a fight. (Perhaps both at once, though I’d have to be resourceful and use the environment to my advantage.)

I thought nearly nothing of them, as I was drunk at the time and focused primarily on securing a hot dog.

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Podcast follow-ups: An Andrew Menzies Lesson

Podcasting can be a cruel bitch.

While I embrace the emotional roller-coaster of highs and lows of pithy arguments about pop art and life, often times topics are left underdeveloped, and some things call for an elaboration and explanation that just cannot be given during a fifteen minute show.

I am here on the Internet today to offer a few words of follow-up to previous Bob and Andrew Show episodes.  I feel it is my duty as a respected member of the web community to provide you with all of the information.

Andrew Menzies is CNN pre-9/11, not post 9/11.

So I wish to offer you addendums, reactions, and post-scriptures of Bob and Andrew Shows past. For you, the viewer, deserves to know.

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Ways to Die

If you are like me, you are afraid of dying.

However if you’re exactly like me, you are also interested and intrigued by the way in which you are going to go. 

I’ve compiled what I feel are the three best ways to die.

Now, I know a lot of you will inundate the comments with shouts of “Where is internal combustion?” and ”What about angina?”.  Well, a blogger can’t please everyone. I have tried to narrow the list to the pristine level of death: the top three ways I think one can exit this world.  If you’re somehow upset, hurt, or offended I excluded something you or a loved one may have or someday wish to endure, I am sorry.

And onto the death! 

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Letting Other People’s Art Define You: Hooray!

Sorry Blouin, don’t mean to step on your dick, but I’m slapping a little technology into my blog this week.

Myspace, for those of you too cool for school/who have attention deficit disorder, was the big social-networking site before Facebook shot its beans all over the Internets.

The differences between Myspace and Facebook are glaring, but that’s not that this blog is about. Though I turfed my clusterfuck of a Myspace page about a year ago, I still find myself yearning for some of the site’s more gnarly features: Profile music playlists, over-sized and flashing backgrounds, and the fact that you can be friends with Satan . However I still find Facebook’s clean, unified themes much more appealing.

The big featuring lacking on Facebook are bulletin posts. You may argue that "the wall" and "notes" accomplish relatively the same thing, but you’d be wrong, cocksucker. Bulletins were updated in real time in a box right on your main page. While on Facebook you have to looking for your friends’ list of pasta recipes or drunk-diatribes about ex-lovers, Myspace has its car crashes right there, unable to miss.

I got to thinking about the similarities between the two giant sites, and how they more or less allow young people to define themselves based on books, movies and music other people have created. This dovetails nicely with a popular note that was frequently sent around Myspace: The Life Shuffle.

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I enjoy the occasional drink

I like to drink.

Alcohol is a wonderful invention, possibly the highlight of the Roman empire.

Booze can do many wonderful things for you.

Examples:

1. Improve your vocabulary.

2. Improve your balance/agility.

3. Cause you to make friends with people you wouldn’t normally associate with (hobos, prostitutes, the elderly)

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