Guilt and Comedy is a newer comedy event in town and is run by the ever beautiful and talented Lauren Martin along with her co-host, the also beautiful Kate Lumsdon. If last night was any indication, this is a comedy night that will pretty much let anyone perform. In the span of only a couple hours I saw a veteran of the Vancouver comedy scene, a beat cop turned poet who issued poetic citations, a rather angry homosexual comedian, a clown lady and sketch comedy from none other than Jackie Blackmore of “The Skinny.” Oh, and Andrew Menzies. But don’t get me wrong, folks, this eclectic gathering of talent was not only interesting but enjoyable.

Of Andrew’s stand-up this reviewer can only say that it was pretty much exactly what I would assume a sexual experience with Andrew would be like. It was extremely brief, Morgan Freeman was referenced, there was a lot of laughter, no eye contact was made and Andrew never took his pants off. All in all, a mildly charming experience. The audience certainly seemed to enjoy it. My only advice for Mr. Menzies would be to prepare some more jokes next time. No sooner had he taken the stage when he was already thanking everyone for being there and scampering off. If he ever manages to sustain longer than 90 seconds of an act, the comedy world better look out!

We here at bobandandrew.com will keep you fully up to date on all of Andrew Menzies activities because, well, you know, it’s his website too.

In all seriousness, congratulations Andrew. I know this is something that you’ve been wanting to try for a long time. You did a great job and I’m quite proud of you.

If you get a chance, go check out Guilt and Comedy. It’s every Wednesday night at Guilt & Co. located just below Chill Winston by the Gassy Jack statue in Gastown.

This revelation threw me. I’m usually pretty tight with words and shit. I got straight B’s in high school English; obviously above average, but not too big for my britches.

Had I gotten all A’s I would be filled with too much confidence to even explore my grammatical shortcomings. (Of which, believe me, there are many.)

When I think of words that are fucking kick ass, I tend to think of things, as opposed to ideas. Democracy is a pretty good idea, but as a word? Lame.

Some words have a particular ring to them that’s just appealing, even if the object, idea or place they describe or represent is wholly disgusting. Examples: falcon, snot, microwave.

I could go on but I’d rather share these drawings I made.

I love you all.

On August 10th 2008 we wrapped filming on our contribution to the Zombie film genre: Don’t Call Me Zombie.

Zombie is the story of Al, a nine to five working class zombie who has to overcome social misnomers in an attempt find acceptance amongst his peers.  It stars Alex Dafoe, Claire Lindsay, Juan Riedinger and Jennifer Milliron.  Our wonderful friend Nicholas Humphries directed and we have EXCLUSIVE behind the scenes features for you. First in our series is a little peek at how a master actor such as Andrew works on set.

Enjoy.

Well, I listen to a lot of Jimmy Buffett, I watch The Hunt For Red October whenever it comes on TV and I take baths instead of showers whenever possible.

You might say I’ve given up on my dream of being a sailor. You might also say that I’ve lost part of who I am by not following this passion. You might be a jerk. But, as we all know, you can’t be everything you want to be in life. Some desires have to give way to others so that we may be genuinely successful at one thing rather than kinda good at many things. It’s how we deal with these lost opportunities that make us into one of two kinds of people:

1) Happy, well adjusted, relatively normal individuals.

2) Losers.

Here is my theory on how to make sure you end up as number one instead of number two:

First of all, you need to make sure your dream is achievable. For example, we all say at one point that we want to be an astronaut when we grow up. This notion is just ridiculous. Astronauts have to go through a crazy amount of training and possess an above average skill level. By odds alone, it’s clear that most of us will never achieve this dream. Plus, space is kind of scary. It’s so dark and big.

Also, the Challenger disaster comes to mind.

Of all the dreams you may have, you’re going to want to decide which is most important to you. Sure, I’m intrigued by the idea of setting sail for unknown lands and letting the wind take me where she will, but I have other dreams too. Dreams that are just as important to me and a lot more suited to my skills. Among these: Fireman, Dog Catcher, Highwayman, School Teacher, Writer, Comedian and Tank Driver. I was a Fireman for a summer and it was fun, but I didn’t want to do it for the rest of my life. I attempted to pursue the School Teacher angle but that wasn’t nearly as fun as it seemed it would be. While I know I would be an awesome Tank Diver, I simply don’t agree with what tanks are used for these days. Finally I ended up writing and trying to be funny and so far that seems to be fitting quite well.

You see, whatever you’re true passion is, you will end up doing it. It’s just a matter of LETTING yourself do it. This is why serial killers have such a rough time in life.

I’m looking at you Jack the Ripper.

Once you find yourself doing something that you love, you have to be persistent. If you want to be a ballerina and some jack-ass ballerina teacher tells you that you suck, you have to be able to continue anyway – even though ballerina instructors are known for their acerbic tone. While being persistant you also have to know that the image of what your dream will look like is probably not what it will turn out to be at all. In my dreams of being a comedy writer did I imagine myself on YouTube with some shlub named Andrew Menzies?

Yes, yes I did, but I’m the exception to the rule in that regard.

You also have to be prepared to make sacrifices along the way. Those sacrifices just might mean choosing between 2 or more dreams. Like me and my sailing. If ballerina boy from the example above also wants to be a golf course groomer, he’s got a tough choice ahead of him. Of course there is a chance that you can have more than one dream come true. I might just make it rich enough through writing to own a sail boat, pay a crew and live my Jimmy Buffett fantasy. But that would be a bonus at this point. I’ve made my choice in life and if I get to the point where I can be both a ballerina dancer AND a golf course groomer I’ll be very lucky.

The key to keeping a balance in your life and not getting hung up on the fact that your life is not working out how you’d planned is to keep your expectations low. And by low, I mean non-existent. And by non-existant, I mean vague. People who think they know exactly who they are going to be in 5 years almost invariably end up on somekind of anti-depressant. Life is so much more enjoyable if you roll with the punches while staying true to who you are. If you’ve always seen yourself having a family but no one will date you because you smother them with your insecurities till they get a restraining order on you – look into getting a cat (or a dog if that’s more your style). You see, the key is to make compromises whilst living your life for you.

In closing I’ll just say this: Sailing is really cool, but if a ballerina teacher told me I wouldn’t be very good at it, I’d pack my bags and go to a golf course where I’d eventually end up writing a funny story.

Think about it. 

Sure, we have fist-pounds, high-fives and various other hand movements that can mean a variety of different things at an any given time, in any given context. The sheer amount of variation in these hand motions make them inherently confusing. If you buy a house from a guy and he tries to high-five you it could mean anything. Yeah, maybe he’s just happy for you. But then again, maybe he just swindled you out of thousands and thousands of dollars. Who knows? The handshake however, is clear. The handshake is resolute. The handshake is steadfast.

Since the beginning of time, or at least since the Romans, we’ve been using the handshake to signify some kind of cooperation. It’s an acknowledgment of a new acquaintance, a finalization of a deal or a congratulatory gesture. In whatever form it takes, the handshake can be trusted as a traditional gauge of a person’s character.

Yes, much can be learned about a person by their handshake. When I turned 16 my Uncle asked my Dad if he had tested my handshake yet. You see, my Uncle was indeed a wise man and knew that the window into a person’s soul is through their palm. In fact, a person’s word is really only as good as their handshake. A poor handshake indicates a person is either untrustworthy or just a straight-up loser. Which leads to the main point of this article - proper handshake technique.

The first thing you want to figure out when giving a handshake is what you’re saying with said handshake. Quite often a handshake will denote an agreement of some sort. Therefore it is important to ask yourself, ‘what am I agreeing to?’ ‘Do I know this person well enough to be engaging in consetual sex with them?’ You want to make sure you’re handshake is not sending the wrong message, so don’t throw it out for just any old chump.

The second thing you want to do is make eye contact with the receiver of the handshake. This is important as it lets the handshake receiver know that you are serious about your handshake and that you are paying attention to their handshake.

Once you know what you’re saying with your handshake and eye contact has been established, place your hand fully into the palm of the other person’s hand and close firmly. Give one firm squeeze and a clear up then down motion. Release. Remember to maintain eye contact throughout the procedure. If there is more than one person present, repeat the movement as necessary.

Features of a poor handshake include: flaccid hand grip, gripping of the fingers only, using a second hand to support or cup the handshake, shaking too long and just general sloppiness of technique.

Among other things handshakes are great for:

1) Bribery – slip a little cash in there.
2) Establishing dominance – just squeeze till the other person is in tears.
3) Telling that Heart and Stroke Foundation joke – you slide the other person’s bottom knuckle back and forth with your fingers while shaking the joke reciever’s hand, thus simulating a heart beat as you ask them to support the Heart and Stroke Foundation.

So the next time someone comes at you with their hand up for a high-five or sticks out their fist for a pound, calmly extend your hand and say to them, “I prefer the handshake. Have a little respect for tradition!”

Since the first Ninja, Prince Yamato of Japan, people have continually been in awe of the Ninja’s sweet ass ability to lay the smack down. You just don’t mess with a Ninja. They don’t take shit from anyone and they do WHAT they want, WHEN they want. What could be more cool? We’ve all been in those social situations where skills in sabotage, espionage, scouting and hand to hand combat would come in handy. It’s in these very situations that we should look to the tradition of the Ninja to guide us.

The Ninja’s main weapon is stealth.

This is applicable to many everyday situations. For our younger readers, when your request to go to that party so you can try and nail that chick that’s really not that great looking, but that will give you that all important inside track on your buddies so you have to sneak out of the house – borrow from the Ninja. Exit your house under the cover of night without being heard. You’re going to want to look into buying a black wardrobe that’s not only completely absorbent of all light but also stylish so you can wear it to your party. You’re also going to want to invest in some of those Ninja blow darts that will incapacitate your parents should they discover your Ninja plot like a pair of evil Samurai attempting to thwart you.

The Ninja’s next line of defense is cunning.

Being a cunning person is just a good way to operate on any day of the week. Your cunning can be the difference between having to own up to pretty much any mistake you make in life. When asked ‘did you f@#% this up?’ A cunning person will always answer ‘No.’ Your cunning can be the difference between you getting that promotion at work when your boss asks ‘Who did that great report, was it you or Susan?’ The cunning person will answer, ‘Me sir, me!’ And thus land said promotion. Your cunning can be the difference between having to go through with that blind date when you get to her door and find out she’s not exactly a ‘looker’. When she asks, ‘Hi, Craig?’ a cunning person will reply, ‘Criag died, I’ve been sent with the news. Sorry.’ And leave.

Another great way to incorporate Ninja teachings into your daily life is to take up Karate.

Ninja’s are prepared to defend themselves at all times. So should you be. You never know when you’re going to shoot your mouth off and write cheques your body can’t cash. Ninja’s don’t use cheques. They keep their money in cash so they can stay off the grid. Also, they’re ancient warriors so they don’t do so well with modern inventions such as bank machines and interac. But that’s neither here nor there, my point is this: You need to be able to chuck some fists from time to time. Look at Karate Kid. When he became bullied by that blonder, better looking asshole, that old dude showed him how to throw-down old school. Problem solved. You should be just like that kid (what ever happened to him anyway?). When that guy budges in front of you at the theater, launch into the crane stance, tell him that he has no defense and brutally embarrass him in front of the other patrons. After all, this is pretty much the everyday 21st century equivalent to assassination – the Ninja’s most sought after of services.

And so, with these varied and ancient techniques at your disposal you should never be left behind in any part of life. Whether it be at the workplace, at home, out on the town or what have you, Ninja wisdom is invaluable. So remember, when your feudal lord is being threatened by the local daimyo and the village has no one to protect them, stand up and do what you have been destined to do – Assassinate that SOB. Or, as we covered, in a more updated society, beat him down in front of a crowd while yelling disparaging remarks.

I love America. I’ve been to America. It’s a confused, angsty teenage country that doesn’t give a fuck what mom says, he’s staying out past one and shooting down mailboxes with dad’s .22. It solves its problems by punching things, throwing tantrums and not worrying about the next morning. My kind of country! Argh!

Tomorrow is Independence Day. America will be 319 years old (a rough estimate). Now, I know things aren’t going so well for America right now (Bush, terrorism, no health care, unemployment, Katrina fallout, Iraq, the sub-prime mortgage crisis, several unsolved child murders, Iran, racism, the election, flooding, wildfires, Mitt Romney) but that doesn’t mean they deserve any less a special day to celebrate all the good the country as produced over the years.

Case in point:

The hotdog. America may have not invented this tasty breakfast item, but God damn did they perfect it.

Six inches of shredded pig anus and cow face, wrapped in a lightly toasted bun is chock full of preservatives and chemicals that will light your testicles aflame with joy.

Best of all, the hotdog is portable. You can hold it firmly in your fist like the controls of a fighter jet.

Without America, we would be deprived of such a treat. For this I say, God Bless the USA.

My favorite way to celebrate the Fourth of July is to go to work, because I’m Canadian and we don’t celebrate it. The next day is always a hoot, watching a steady stream of fireworks accident reports on CNN.

Man in Cincinnati looses hand.

Roman Candles injures Greek woman.

Children blinded by propane BBQ explosion.

It’s a nonstop Darwin roller coaster. Destination: pain!

So to you Yanks I wish you the best on your Day of Independence. Even though Canada tried to upstage you by picking our national holiday (aptly titled ‘Canada Day’) three days before yours. It seemed to work for the first hundred or so years, when beaver pelts and canoes ruled supreme. Regardless, enjoy your hotdogs, fireworks, and watery beer. The world salutes you and your tragically comic attempts to solve our problems.

Play ball!

Lately I’ve been feeling a little lost. I look around at my contemporaries- people my age, younger- and can’t help but be baffled at where things are headed. I tend to shake my head a lot. I feel like an old man who yearns “for the good old days” and that if “those darn kids could just keep it down”, I could have my milk and go to bed.

Our world is even more connected than ever, yet we’ve chosen to be anonymous, isolated. Everything is instant, there’s no time to wait. Our language is being lost amidst a flurry of key beeps and LOLs.

A lack of formal education hinders me from writing a meandering essay about the socio-political causes, contrasting class and economic details that may cause some of the problems cited. Hence, here is a list of current social trends that I abhor. Enjoy.

Uncurved baseball caps with stickers on the brim

Take them off, curve the hat. That is how it works.

Small children

I wouldn’t tolerate an adult yelling and screaming some unintelligible nonsense whilst flailing his limbs and spitting at me as I browse the magazine rack at London Drugs. So why would I stand by and let you, as your mother calls you “Jared”, (probably spelled Jarrid or some other retarded way) ruin a magazine I have no intention of paying for? Children should not be seen nor heard until they have a valid driver’s license.

Did you know that SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome) can be classified on child deaths up to and including four years of age? That doesn’t sound so sudden to me.

Really, that’s all I can say. Get off the phone and hug somebody.

This is another trend from the urban hip hop community that preppy white kids stole. Look, I like rap: Mos Def, Talib Kweli. I’m down with Jigga and I think Reverend Run truly rocks the party and comes correct, his cuts are his time and rhymes correct. There’s no debating that. But if this needs to stop.

Attention white people: You will never look as cool as a black guy. Stop shaving your head, pull up your pants, and buy a polo shirt. Thank you.

I’m so sorry if I don’t like to waste six litres of water just to make the water clear again. Stool is another story. Urine is a class of it’s own. It should NOT be feared.

Urine is sterile. You can drink it.

Studies indicate that a rapidly growing trend for young French-Canadians is a post-secondary hitchhiking trip across Canada. Many come from well-to-do homes, however ending up on the streets at some point or another. I have empathy for the homeless- the disabled, mentally ill homeless. The lazy, young able-bodied kids? Well, let me put it in terms they may understand:

Retour au wence vous êtes venu, vous écume horrible de Quebecor !

I understand that you are old- by my estimates, you have approximately fifteen years left to live- however, you needn’t smile at every waking second.

Life isn’t that great.

Sure, maybe you’re on some killer drugs or you’re wearing a butt plug, but please, keep your joy inward. The rest of us want to smack you in the mouth and dislodge your butt plug.

I’d like to unite all of these grievances, pinpoint a through line and suggest some kind of social parable. I’d like to, but as I mentioned earlier, I am highly uneducated.

Goodnight Cleveland!

Party Talk Strategy #1: Control the conversation.

There are a lot of pedantic jerks at parties. People are selfish. They like to talk about themselves, how they paint on weekends, how they’re writing a novel but just can’t seem to work up the courage to ‘share’ themselves so intimately on the page or how they went rock climbing in Gibraltar on their trip to Asia. The first thing you have to do is lull them into a false sense of security by acting like you’re really interested in what they’re saying. Then start to drop comments into the conversation that will take it in a more interesting direction. When they mention how they like to start off with some cardio before they move into weight training at the gym say something like “Oh, tell me about it! My personal trainer, Linda, tries to get me to do that but we just always end up having sex in the change room.” Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, lying is key to good party conversation.

Once you’ve dropped a bomb like this, the pompous party person will not know what to do. They might awkwardly laugh it off and continue, at which point you just continue to try and steer the conversation with your lies or they might actually try and talk to you about the introduced subject matter. In this case, casual sex with a professional who is on the job. If they do try and further the subject, you’ve got them. All you have to do now is use quick, vague answers to their queries until they end up talking about their sexual past. It’s a great way to keep the subject matter interesting to you.

Party Talk Strategy #2: Take the piss out of whoever your conversing with.

The best part of meeting strangers in a party setting is that you probably won’t have to see them again. This allows for a lot of leeway in regards to attitude towards said people. It’s a lot more fun to have a conversation with an idiot if you don’t give a shit. So when whats-her-face goes off about how she just got a dog and how it’s brightened up her life so much and how she feels just like she has a child now – say something like “Wow, I’m so happy for you, my wife and I lost our child in a tragic boating accident last year – maybe WE should just get a DOG!” Or you could go a more subtle route and say something like “Hmm a dog, what is it a lab? A collie?” and then whatever their answer is just groan and say “Really? Of all the dog breeds, that’s what you choose? Jesus Christ your stupid!” Overreaction is a large part of this strategy.

On the down side, this one is a lot harder to sustain. Once you’ve begun to take the piss out of someone, they will soon become angry or hurt and often leave the conversation.

Party Talk Strategy #3: The pissing match strategy.

Again, people are selfish. Many people find parties as a nice way to check in and see how their doing in the old race of life. They ask other people what they’ve been up to only to retort with a bigger and better anecdote about their own life. These people are hollow and generally empty inside. A great opportunity to have some fun with a party guest.

Again, lying is huge here. However, in this strategy you’re going to want to make sure your lies are more believable. If ever a person you’re in a pissing match with figures you’re lying, they automatically win. As we all know, the only thing sadder than having to be better than everyone around you, is having to lie to achieve it. Now, since we’re simply engaging in this behavior for a laugh, it works out.

So when a particularly fragile, empty shell of a human being approaches you and begins to tout their accomplishments, saying they just spent 3 months in Africa helping starving children, respond with something like “Wow, very impressive, I just got back from my lab where we just put the finishing touches on the AIDS cure.” Again – keep your lies believable.

This brings us to our last party chat strategy: The exit strategy

There will be conversations that are just too dull to have any fun with. For this you have to be prepared. If it’s at all possible, bring a trusted friend to the event with you. When it comes time to exit an unwanted conversation just ask you friend if they have any Mentos. As you will have planned out before hand, your friend will say “Yes, they’re just in my jacket, come on, I’ll get them for you.” And voila! you’re free.

If you don’t have a friend it’s a little trickier. You can pretend to recieve a phonecall, saying your phone was on vibrate, but this can be tricky as people often choose to actually call you right in the middle of these kinds of lies.

The best way, in my experience, is to go back to the tried and true lie. Say that you’re a doctor and that you have to check in with the hospital to see if they need you. Or say that you’ve an intestinal problem and have to use the bathroom erratically. This allows you to use the bathroom excuse as much as you want and plus people just generally don’t want to talk to people with severe bowel problems.

So there you have it. An easy to follow guide to party conversation. I have now empowered you in the party setting. Never again will you have to feel nervous or bored while talking to total strangers because some guy you know just moved into a new house. But I warn you: Use these strategies wisely. Do not abuse them and they will not abuse you. Remember, with great power comes great… how does that go again?

Whenever life hands you a challenge like this the first thing you should do is look for the best way to cheat. Luckily, cheating is the one thing you can count on the public school system to teach children. Of course, in this case, the best way to cheat is to APPEAR like you’re in shape when in reality you spend your evening cuddled up on the couch with a bag of Cheetos.

There are many approaches to appearing to keep in shape. The most popular of which is probably starvation. I don’t recommend this however as it leads to multiple eating disorders. In fact, I would say it’s just as much work as trying to actually go to the gym on a regular basis. Who can resist the temptation of a delicious meal for longer than a couple hours at best? As you can see, starvation is really no cheat at all.

The best way to get around actual work in this aspect of life is moderation. I know, you’ve heard it before, but I want to reiterate it here. When you buy that flat of Pepsi to get you through the week, try diet. When you grab your daily venti 6 pump vanilla breve with whipped topping latte coffee thingy from that cafe that shall remain nameless switch to non-fat. When you buy the sour cream that you’re going to put on all your food even if it doesn’t really go with sour cream, get the lite instead. My point is this: in the 21st century world, there is no reason to even be taking in fat. Chemists/marketing specialists have been working on this problem for years, are you going to throw their life’s work down the toilet?

Of course simply switching to chemically altered food isn’t enough. You actually do have to do some physical activity otherwise you end up with that ridiculous skinny person belly that makes you look like a Simpsons character. The key to this is tricking yourself into thinking you’re not doing anything at all. Take the Wii for example, its success is based on this very principle.

The best physical activity that doesn’t seem like exercise at all is sex. Now as we covered earlier, if you’re not actually in shape and you haven’t created the appearance of being in shape yet, this may be difficult for you to do. But if you can, have as much sex as possible. The second best way to fool yourself into exercise is to get a dog. When people are around dogs, the become like dogs. They laugh and play and frolic around – a great source of exercise. That’s why they give dogs to old people when they’re not doing so good. Or you can just become homeless and ramble the countryside – see my earlier post for details.

As a last resort, if all the above advice fails, just wear a lot of black and get one of those costume undershirts with the muscles painted on them. It probably won’t get you laid, but it will go over great at parties and you’ll keep warm in the winter. But whatever you do, don’t carry around one of those fake 5000lbs barbells with you – that’s just going too far.

Take 60s and 70s rock music. All the answers to these people’s problems lie there. When one finds themselves in a homeless state what one needs to do is RAMBLE. This takes what should be a hopeless and forlorn state of being and makes it cool and exciting. If you can work GAMBLING into your life at this point that’s even better. But lets stick with the particulars of rambling for now.

In order to be an effective rambler you have to keep in mind a few ground rules. First off, you should be able to play, or have a passing knowledge of the guitar. This is a key component in turning your embarrasing homeless situation into an edgy counter culture statement. If you can’t play the guitar, just find an old one and strap it to your back. If any one calls you on your inability to play it – kill them. Again, being a wanted man greatly improves a rambler’s status among other ramblers.

The second big thing you’re going to want to keep in mind is the look of a rambler. Let’s start with facial hair. A well groomed beard and ‘that intentional bed head look’ are imperative. At its best the Rambler look is kind of like a mix between Harrison Ford from The Fugitive and Clint Eastwood from The Good The Bad and The Ugly. Once you’ve nailed this aspect of you’re appearance you’re going to want to take a look at your wardrobe. It’s all about the jeans/cowboy shirt combo. Find a good match that can be washed in a ‘crick’ or pond of some kind. Remember, a good rambler is a good improviser. Lastly you need to have a good hat. This is where you really decide what kind of rambler you are. Traditionally some kind of cowboy hat would be appropriate, the trucker hat (although that’s been taken by mainstream culture – the rambler’s enemy), you just need to find something that will shade your eyes ever so slightly and mysteriously as you roam the byways of the land.

As a rambler you must pick up a lot of chicks. If you’re not very good at this, don’t worry, just follow the first two steps and the chicks will come to you. The main thing to remember here is that you must never, ever, under any circumstances stay with a woman longer than one night. Any rambler knows that the secret to surviving is to love them and leave them. They can’t hurt you if you turn your back on them first. In fact if you had a father that knew anything about anything, he would have told you this and scarred you from ever having a meaningful emotional relationship. Most pure ramblers do have fathers like this, but it’s not a requirement.

You’re going to want to keep a constant loop of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Bob Dylan, The Band, etc playing all the time. These songs are the rambler’s bible. They remind him of his place in the world and teach him how to live his life. Also these songs are great pointers on how to enhance your rambler-ness and take it to the next level, eg. riding the rails, being involved in bar fights, running down the road trying to loosen your load, the aforementioned gambling, breaking hearts, taking chances and of course being free. Because after all that’s what rambling is all about – freedom.

So if you ever find yourself homeless have a little self respect and just follow these simple guidelines. With these handy dandy pointers in your back pocket you’ll be able to stay alive on the road just like that guy in Into the Wild (no spoilers please! I haven’t finished the movie yet).

I don’t hate pigeons. I like their shape. If the mood struck, I feel I could easily grab a pigeon with one hand. Birds in general, I like. Sometimes their light chirping sounds of music; a nice accent to a walk through the park on a warm summer‘s eve. Sure they poo everywhere, and have the ability to poo on you from the clouds above, but that’s fair trade for the shape and acoustics.

I didn’t notice the pigeons in the car park until a few weeks ago. While on my way to the local convenience store, several pigeons swooped down, startled no doubt at my intrusion to their natural habitat. One merely grazed my shoulder, while a second came within inches of my face. There were others- I could see pairs of beady eyes in the darkness- but only two chose to attack. I could have fought back, but opted to run. (I didn‘t spend twenty-three years on this earth drinking and chain smoking just to lose it all to a pair of fucking birds.) Since the incident- which I have taken to calling my own personal 9/11- I’ve largely avoided the car park of hell.

Fast forward two weeks. I’m returning home late from an evening of culture and debate (playoffs and beer), when I find myself under the cover of doom. I freeze: do I power through and make a dash for the door? Or do I step back into the light and go the long way around? As I weighed my options, my eyes darted around, waiting for the first attacker. I cocked my fists, spat out my gum, and prepared for war.

But it was for naught. The crevices, the spaces between the beams where the pigeons would stalk were bare. Rather, plastic spikes had been placed inside, preventing any sort of bird from setting up shop. Clever, I thought.

Yesterday I passed a small market near where I work. Usually between the cement pillars, homeless men would make their camp, protected from the rain in an alcove just large enough to lay down. Though I do not support charity I do admire a resourceful hobo. Sometimes I make note of certain practices, storing this information in case I ever end up on the cold, hard streets. How surprised was I to see that these small alcoves now had horizontal metal poles laid through them effectively blocking out any chance a hobo had to make a bed.

Is this what we’ve come to? Warding off unsavoury vagrants with pigeon technology?

I can’t say I’m surprised. People generally despise the homeless. I can understand a business not wanting beggars outside of their doors, but this total sign of disregard- spending hundreds of dollars in an epic “Screw you!” to those who have little to nothing. (I once saw a hobo with a shopping cart full of tires.) What is so wrong with allowing a man a nice spot to nap or to cover himself from a light afternoon rain?

I can’t offer an idea to rectify this problem. Boycott said business? No. Donations to the local homeless shelter? Nay. Tying a pigeon’s legs together and tossing him around like a football? Perhaps.

I don’t have all the answers.

The fight: a physical confrontation between two individuals. To dance, to chuck ‘em, to drop the gloves, to get crunk, to lay the smack down, to step to, to take it outside, to throw down, to want a piece of, to throw the hands.

Now, I should mention that I’ve never been in a real fight. I’ve been in hockey fights, witnessed/helped break up a couple of bar fights and I punched my brother in the face one time. But by no means do I consider myself a violent person and the prospect of getting punched in the face myself frightens me. However, I am convinced that I would do okay if the time came for me to ‘man up’.

First off, I’ve watched a lot of fights. People tell me I make good comments when watching UFC and other types of fighting. This leads me to believe that I have a pretty good handle on the theory of hand to hand combat. I’m a relatively in-shape guy. I play hockey once a week and I spend a lot of time outside. This leads me to believe that my conditioning would hold up at least long enough to put in a respectable effort. Plus, I’m tall. Reach is a key factor in these types of things. Lastly, I’ve had coaching. My father once told me “if you ever get in a fight, you better make the first one count.” Who can feel vulnerable with wisdom like this on their side?

Somehow, this thought that I might be able to tie, if not win, a fight makes me feel I am allowed to enjoy watching them. I think to myself “I could have done it professionally if I had really wanted to.” Which leads me to the reason I feel most people are opposed to fighting: They think they would get their asses kicked. It stands to reason, unless you’re a soldier who’s been in the suck, had to battle against his own fear in order to do his job, and now before he gets to go home, has been called to action one last time in order to save the only surviving son of a woman who had 4 boys in the war who will be played by Tom Hanks – I forgot what I was talking about…

My point is this: Fighting happens. You can either prepare yourself for this occasion as I have, or not. For this reason, I have created the Bob Woolsey 5 Easy Steps to Becoming Prepared to Fight Just in Case you Might Need to One Day, You Never Know System of training. Here are the steps in sequential order:

1) Watch as much fighting on television as possible. Recommended programs:

a. Ultimate Fighting Championship (Just sign up for Spike TV)
b. Hockey Night in Canada (Not as good as it used to be for this, but still a good source)
c. The Discovery Channel (Those animals know how to chuck ‘em old school)
d. The Shield (Vic Mackey is a beast)

2) Take up jump rope. We’ve all seen this in every boxing movie ever made; there must be something to it.

a. Amendment to this step: Eat raw eggs out of a tumbler glass.

3) Start punching things as part of your daily routine. This step is a preventative one. If people see you punching things in anger they are far less likely to pick a fight with you as you have already demonstrated your prowess.

4) Make the first one count.

5) If all else fails, be prepared to gouge out a person’s eye. This will win any fight. People’s eyes are sensitive and they need them to see you so they can punch you. If you remove the eyes, you are a sure fire winner. As preparation for this you’re going to want to handle a lot of skinned grapes so that you can get used to the texture of a smooshed eye.

With this 5 step program there is no way you will ever suffer an embarrassing loss of a fight again. If you take this program and make it part of your life you WILL stay safe.

*DISCLAIMER* The Bob Woolsey 5 Easy Steps to Becoming Prepared to Fight Just in Case you Might Need to One Day, You Never Know System has yet to be approved.

However I was unaware that my seventy five dollars would bring this feeling of unrelenting fear and an empty burning in my chest. You see, apparently when you renew a driver’s license, you’re asked to be an organ donor. They want you to give up your parts should you parish while driving with your new license.

I don’t remember getting this card when I initially passed my road test at sixteen. Perhaps they thought I was too young to make such a decision. Too immature or hasty to choose something that will affect the rest of my life. Or is it “effect”? I’ve never been really sure, but… wait, no time!

The card is really simple for what amounts to the biggest decision of my life. I can check a box that sends all of my parts out: to science, to people, to whoever wants a piece of a dead guy. Fairly straight-forward, sort of the “all-in” option of organ donation. What do I care? I’m dead.

The second option limit’s the donation of only what parts are needed. This puts the first option into perspective. If I check that box, are they just trying to give everything away? Are they treating my insides like a used car lot, pushing kidneys like 82’ hatchbacks with transmission damage? I’d rather only loose the kidney if it’s needed. So far I like this scenario the best. Cancer-stricken child needs a lung? Right on. Mr. McCormick’s eighth grade science class needs a new human scull for display? Not an ice cube’s chance in hell, McCormick!

The third option is the real challenge. It lets you pick and choose which organs you want to give up: Heart. Lung. Kidney. Skin. Pancreas. Liver. Bowel. Bone. Eyes.

Eyes? Can that transaction even be done? Is it purely aesthetic? If some blind guy gets my eyes, will he be able to see again? Because that severely impacts my decision. However if the operation is just for cosmetic purposes- like Mrs. Blind Guy wants Mr. Blind Guy to get some eyes before she introduces him to her coworkers- well, give me two marbles and a sharpie. Problem solved.

Skin I understand. Burn victims, right? They need all the skin they can get their charred little fingers on. When I die, you can have all my skin… from the neck down. I don’t need it, and it really would add a new dimension to the Plexiglas coffin I’ve requested in my last will and testament.

(I don’t even want to ask about the bowels.)

Oh, you can also choose not to be a donor. But that’s the assumed option if you don’t fill out the card. But why even pay for postage if you’re checking “no”? There must be some conspiracy. I bet your name goes on a telemarketer’s list or you’re perpetually audited until you sign the donor card.

I’m leaning towards the second box. Only organs needed for transplant. Good. It’s sort of in the middle. On the fence, so to speak.

But science! Science is great. It’s given us canned soda, the Wonderbra, and snowboarding. For all the great science has done for me, do I not owe it the courtesy of the fruits of my loins? What if the experiments performed on my tattered kidneys cure a disease? Is that alone not worth the price of my post-death dignity?

One check mark sends my pancreas to a community college. The other could save the life of a dying baby.

I don’t want a smoker or drunk getting my lungs or kidneys. They had their chance.

What if my organs fail? Can the patient complain to my family?

If there is a hell, then I am surely going. I want all of my vital parts in place. I will need them to survive.

I’m not up on the science of it, but can’t we just use stem cells to grow junk on mice? I vaguely recall reading something about this… perhaps in Reader’s Digest.

My mind is a flutter with a thousand questions. This is not a decision to be made while under the influence of PCP.

I’ve figured it out. All of this, the speculation and debate about where my organs will go when I die, it all hinges on one point: my death.

I will just try really hard not to die. If I stay alive, my organs won’t go anywhere.

Problem solved.