Terry was many things to many people. He was a father, a lover, a husband, a defendant, and an old man. Terry had a passion for finishing, biplaning, Italian fusion cooking as well as mixed martial arts, women and the drink. He will be missed by many, revered by few.

Click below to hear Bob and Andrew’s thoughts and memories of their long-time podcast producer and cocaine dealer.

We apologize about the quality of the recording, as we were without a producer.

After the jump, there’s an unfinished interview Andrew was conducing with Terry upon the time of his death.

Terry Joseph Wharburton produces the Bob & Andrew Show podcast. At Christmas, we interviewed Terry about his disdain for the holiday season. Today, we focus on Terry’s yearning to be a motivational speaker. We decided the only way to sort out this frustrating and frankly baffling revelation was to sit down and ask Terry flat out why he thought he had anything of relevance to share with society.

This is one man’s story.

bobandandrew.com: Thanks for coming down, Terry.

Terry: I appreciate the boot shining.

bobandandrew.com: This really is quaint, isn’t it? You don’t see a lot of old-time shoe shiners around anymore.

Terry: What the hell does “quaint” me? Are you calling me a faggot?

bobandandrew.com: Calm down, Terry.

Terry: Okay.

bobandandrew.com: So, the other day you mentioned your aspirations to speak in front of children.

Terry: I want to show the youth of the world what can happen when a man has nothing to lose.

bobandandrew.com: Do you think you have the right qualifications to become a motivational speaker?

Terry: I got a mouth and a suit, don’t I?

bobandandrew.com: I don’t think it’s that simple. Most motivational speakers have degrees or life experience that would make sharing their story beneficial to others. As far as we understand it, you have none of those things. You’re liar and a thief. You’ve been divorced three times. You verbally abused your developmentally disabled son.  You crashed an airplane and sent money to the Taliban. We’ve seen you attempt to set fire to a hospital. Terry, you’re not a good person.

Terry: Watch the heel.

bobandandrew.com: Terry?

Terry: Oh, sorry, I was talking to this coloured fellow.

bobandandrew.com: The boot shiner? He’s Portuguese, and that’s not even close to the correct term.

Terry: Portuguese? No shit. I had chow mein for lunch.

bobandandrew.com: Alright, foregoing your lack of experience or moral compass, if given the chance, what would you want to teach the youth of our nation?

Terry: Practical things. Trades.

bobandandrew.com: Like welding and carpentry?

Terry: I would be a great teacher. My father taught me how to whittle. I made a flute. It didn’t work too well.

bobandandrew.com: Your father died when you were eleven, right?

Terry: Mom shot him in the leg. Papa died of an infection a short time later. He was, after all, a Christian scientist.

bobandandrew.com: Did you have any role models growing up? Perhaps a teacher you admired, or an uncle?

Terry: Uncle Jeff went to jail for rape when I was nine. I quit school a short time later.

bobandandrew.com: Are those two incidents related?

Terry: (long pause) No.

bobandandrew.com: Who is Sol McGuinty?

Terry: My Jew lawyer.

bobandandrew.com: I don’t think that’s the correct term.

Terry: Alright. My Jew barrister. Anyway, he’s an alright Jew.

bobandandrew.com: Terry–

Terry: Hang on, I’m getting a page.

bobandandrew.com: You have a pager?

Terry: I need to take this.

Terry leaves the room. He returns seventeen minutes later, dripping with sweat and reeking of whiskey.

bobandandrew.com: Terry–

Terry: What?!

bobandandrew.com: Shall we continue?

Terry: I don’t give a God Damn.

bobandandrew.com: Okay. We were discussing your–

Terry: I need a pussy.

bobandandrew.com: What?

Terry: Been a long time. A long… long time.

bobandandrew.com: Terry, let’s call it a day. We’ll finish this up next week.

Terry: Sounds good. I’m flying my biplane to the island Friday night. Gonna see about a lady.

bobandandrew.com: Well, have a safe flight.

Terry: Thank you. You know, Adam–

bobandandrew.com: Andrew. It’s Andrew.

Terry: Whatever. You and Roger are two of the finest young gentlemen I’ve ever known. You listen to my stories, you give me employment, and when we go to bars, you don’t Bogart my tang.

bobandandrew.com: Yeah, well, don’t worry about it.

Terry: I will not worry about it so long as I have friends like you. Give daddy a hug.

bobandandrew.com: Back the fuck off, Terry!

Terry: Did I ever tell you boys about the time I had sex with twins?

bobandandrew.com: No, you didn’t.

Terry: Me and her brother double-teamed her for a good fifteen minutes.

bobandandrew.com: God damn it, Terry.

Terry: Fuck you! Don’t judge me, Adam.

Add Terry as a friend on Facebook and leave a comment on his wall. Celebrate the man.

http://www.facebook.com/thehandsomebiplaner

Falling brick. Murdered. Sheep-attack. That kind of thing.

But that’s glass half-empty death-talk.

However as a twenty three year old male with a family history of alcoholism and heart problems, I think it’s safe to say I’m going to die within the next sixty years.

And damn it, I want to be prepared.

Death scares people. I know this because I took a small sample survey at Kinderson’s Daycare Academy in Port Moody and every child I asked about death started to sob uncontrollably.

Death is sudden and so final: you’re just not there anymore. I like the idea of having some control over my last days, as if I had a terminal illness and the doctors gave me a best-before date. If I knew I had say, three weeks left, I’d make the most of them. Bed-ridden, squalid, pooping in a bucket Andrew can’t skydive or do heroin.

I’ve thought extensively about my funeral. I’d like the casket to be translucent, made out of plexiglass from the old Montreal Forum if possible.  Bury me in a suit two sizes too small, with a top hat and cane, and positioned as if I am dancing or about to escape from the coffin. Make my face appear as though I am smiling, surgically is need be. Tilt the head so it looks like I’m watching everyone through the plexiglass; seat the children in the front row. Hand out glow sticks.

By default I wish for Bob Woolsey to host the gathering. In the event that he died before me or we were in the same hot air balloon, I’ll let my brother do it. He’ll put in a solid effort.

I don’t want to give my stuff to anyone specific. In a will, you can leave your house to your son, money to a wife, whatever… no. Not me. I want everything I own to be placed in a pile as it will be claimed on a first come, first serve basis.

I think burying a body in the earth is utterly stupid. It’s a waste of land and shovel work. Donate my carcass to science or cannibals. If someone wants to wear my face a hat, let them. I’m dead. Whatever happens, happens.

Ten Ways Andrew Could Die

1. Heart attack
2. Alcohol poisoning
3. Stabbed by prostitute
4. Hit by bus
5. Hit by tractor
6. Double jeopardy
7. Falling telephone pole
8. Broken neck
9. Crime of passion
10. Spontaneous combustion

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.)

And the list!

Way In Which The World Will End #1 -Asteroid

Look, we all know a giant asteroid is headed towards earth in March of 2880. And sure, you might say, “But that’s eight hundred years from now. What should I care? Everyone I know and love will dead!” Well, Captain Pessimist, let me remind you of the children. Do you want to see the children burn alive as the volcanoes erupt? Do you want to see your child’s head explode when a passing chunk of space rock shoots through their bedroom window? Didn’t think so!

The best way to combat a giant asteroid is to train roughneck oil workers to be astronauts and send them to the surface of the asteroid to drill a hole and plant a nuclear bomb to shatter the rock into millions of football sized pieces that will harmlessly pelt our planet without relent. This has been proven to work and will most likely be done last minute, maybe February 26 of 2880.

Way In Which The World Will End #2 -Machines Taking Over

Machines are scary. For one, they can often take the form of humans. And two, they’re everywhere.

Can opener. Fridge. iPod. Computer. Electric sex aid. Toaster oven.

Did I just blow your mind? Probably. We have to be weary of the machines, and ready to destroy them with pliers and hammers.

“DO NOT BECOME A MACHINE’S FRIEND.”

Way In Which The World Will End #3 -Aliens

If there’s one item on this list of terror, the one humans are most prepared to combat, it is an alien invasion.

Earth-people (re: humans) are really good at killing each other. We have nuclear arms, tanks, guns, rockets and lots of other expensive shit that will explode and ruin families. If the time comes when little green men descend from the sky, we as a people will be ready to forgo diplomatic negotiation and murder them without regard.

Way In Which The World Will End #4 -Virus/Zombies

The evidence is massive: Dawn of the Dead, The Day of the Dead, The Night of the Living Dead… zombies-  created either from the “no more room in hell” theory or even a mere smallpox outbreak- would cripple the economy.

Zombies eat necks and reproduce like poor white people from West Virginia. They can be both slow-walking or super fast modern zombies. It’s impossible to predict which version will attack first, so it’s best to set into motion the two step method of zombie disposal as soon as possible:

1. Separate the brain from the body.

2. Chill out in a mall.

If you’re elderly, a baby, or somehow physically challenged, well, you’re screwed. Those of us with two working legs and youthful vigor will be able to run and hide, while the undead feast on your brains.

Sorry, Grandma!

Way In Which The World Will End #5-Shitty American President

Old man and new hotness. Fine, we get it.

He’s a war hero and she looks like the aunt you harbour disgusting feelings for. But this is not the future, America. This is terrible.

Terrible terrible terrible.

I’m not endorsing Barack Obama. In fact both candidates are backed by some of the same corporate lobbies and have voted for and against bills they’ve recently come out for or against. But since there’s no Jack Layton in America, you might as well pick the guy who seems hip and isn’t in his seventies.

Bob and Andrew contemplate the inevitable earthquake that will hit the Pacific Coast, killing millions of families and ruining the economy.

They cover survival strategy, possible kill-scenarios, and various repopulating techniques.

Or DOWNLOAD it and listen to it on your Ipod.

Earthquakes and the damage done.

]]> http://www.bobandandrew.com/2008/09/the-bob-andrew-show-the-big-one/feed/ 3 http://www.bobandandrew.com/2008/08/the-bob-andrew-show-dont-call-me-zombie-racist/ http://www.bobandandrew.com/2008/08/the-bob-andrew-show-dont-call-me-zombie-racist/#comments Mon, 18 Aug 2008 04:42:19 +0000 andrew http://www.bobandandrew.com/?p=243 This week on a jam-packed episode of The Bob and Andrew Show, the boys wax poetic on a number of pressing issues including the death penalty, racism, and their new short film “Don’t Call Me Zombie”.

Directed by Nicholas Humphries (black shirt; the guy who is neither Bob nor Andrew), DCMZ is the latest short film birthed and written by Bob and Andrew. Today they look back at the shoot and discuss their experiences on set.

Or DOWNLOAD it and listen to it on your Ipod.

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! 

Decapitation

Imagine: You’ve just purchased a brand new convertible. Leather interior, hot red; a sexy little bitch as it cruises down the coast. As you weave through the mountains, pristine shoreline to your right, you come across an apple stand. Wishing to support the local economy and enjoy a delicious treat, you purchase a crate of Granny Smiths. While enjoying a post-apple cigarette with the Mexican shop keep, three bandits roll up. They ask for your money, and are none too pleased when you present non-transferable coal and wheat bonds. Rickey, the lead bandit, takes a twelve-inch blade from beneath a sheath. He holds it to your neck and several rough snaps later, you’re eight pounds lighter… but it wasn’t the Atkins.

Are you familiar with the phrase, “Don’t lose your head.”? Well, with decapitation, you actually lose your head. 

The French had it right with the guillotine. They made it a public spectacle during the original “Reign of Terror”. A thief would be caught on Monday and guillotined on Tuesday. Lords and ladies alike would gather at the centre of town and await the weekly head parade. There’s something just special about the human head being removed from the body through nothing more than gravity and a sharp edge.

Falling to Death

Since the Gods have yet to grant me the Grand Theft Auto physics I so greatly deserve, I have come to the sullen realization that I will never fully enjoy a fifty-story free fall and live to tell about it. That is why FALLING TO YOUR DOOM has been included on the list.

Lots of people choose jumping off of bridges or buildings as a way of suicide. If you’re going to go, why not at sixty miles per hour with the wind flappin’ in your face? But this blog isn’t mean to celebrate suicide. It’s meant to celebrate accidental death.

Jumping to your death = Not on the list

Getting stabbed in the chest atop the Eiffel Tower, tripping over a guard rail and plunging to the cold grass below = On the list

Natural Causes

After an evening of Pay Per View wrestling and a six pack of Bud Light, you retire to your chamber to rest up before the next day’s lawn mowing. You asked your son to clean up his Tonka trucks but you know he isn’t going to do it until you’re revving up the mower and threatening to run them down. The wife is turning the pages of her Chatelaine too loudly and won’t flick the lamp so you can try to doze off before she‘s ready. Life sure sucks right now… but little do you know that you are about to die in your sleep. How, sir? Why, Natural Causes, of course!

The deadly killer, natural causes is an unpredictable beast. It can get you at any time. You don’t have to be sick, old, or even around something sharp to die. That it why this is perhaps the scariest death situation imaginable.

You never see it coming.

Honourable mentions

Knife to the face, forced drowning, heart attack, severe blood loss, toaster in bathtub, neck-snapping, crucifixion, scurvy, hit by a Go-Kart, knife to the groin, gout, gasoline tanker explosion, shot at during a robbery, terrorist activity, heart explodes after dance competition, stray bullet in a gang war, pumpkin bombed by the Green Goblin, liver cancer, infection after paper cut, broken leg, pummelled to death by wild animal, the plague, adult-onset diabetes

I have since decided that there are a number of practices and facets of the Grand Theft Auto world that would translate well in to real life.

I present to you the best eleven of sixty-four I was able to come up with.

First and foremost the ability to be shot and killed, only to resurrect seconds later with just a small amount of your money taken as a penalty is certainly something I and other thrill seekers would enjoy immensely. Often times I have looked at a building and wondered, “Could I jump off that not die?”. A no-death law would make every answer to that question an emphatic “yes”.

The same goes for GTA’s policy regarding arrest. As it stands, if you are “busted” for say, shooting an old man in the knees or swinging a baseball bat at joggers in the park, you lose all of your weapons and are fined for a “bribe” for early release. This practice would work double for me, as I carry no weapons for which to confiscate, and bribing a state official has been a dream of mine since I learned about Abscam.

Speeding, running red lights, and other usually ticketable driving offences are ignored by police in the world of GTA. Not only would free reign of the road eliminate the worst drivers (they would be dead within hours of the law taking effect), it would also speed things up for those of us willing to risk our health in order to arrive five minutes early to a dentist appointment.

In Grand Theft Auto, a single elbow smash will destroy a car window. I would like to have this power.

Hot dog carts provide a major source of health regeneration. Think about this. Got a cold? Eat a hot dog. Suffering from Malaria? Eat a hot dog. Cancer? Eat two hot dogs.

I would love to fly airplanes. There’s something about the raw power of a low-flying Boeing that brings out the child in me. However as much I enjoy airplanes, I hate learning. I’m sure figuring out altitudes is difficult, which is why GTA’s simple learning curve of various heavy duty machines appeals to me. In GTA, you can jump in a vehicle and instantly you know how to operate it, no matter what your background. Somehow Carl Johnson, a poor urban teenager was able to fly a jetpack and a F16 airplane no problem. I, a poor rural adult, should be able to do the same thing.

Sleep is something that’s expendable in GTA universe. You “sleep” when you save the game, as time is advanced by six hours. I like this. Instantly, you get six hours of rest, wake up and are ready to go again. No dreams or nightmares about Henry Rollins. Just straight up shut-eye. I could get behind that!

I wish there were hidden packages in real life.

There are no children or pets in Grand Theft Auto. Whether this is due to programming issues or the sheer outcry that would come with the ability to shoot the children with shotguns is debatable, but the fact that there are no cats or people under five foot seven is an absolute joy. I hate kids, and really don’t like to see them in public. Cats also suck. I’m not against midgets or dogs. In fact I’d welcome both into a GTA world any day. But as far as felines and toddlers go no, not needed.

Gas the cats and hide the children until they’re of age.

In previous iterations, swimming was not allowed in the GTA world. This changed with San Andreas, and continues on with GTA IV. I say we revert to the days of old, and make water poison. If you jump waist-high water, you die. No swimming anywhere.

If you don’t like it, you can eat a hot dog.