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2020 – A Year in Review

Dearest family, friends, person, woman, man, camera, TV, essential workers, useless workers, first-responders, second-responders, couch potatoes, dedicated employees of the CDC, the NHI, the WHO (at least their surviving members Pete Townshend and Roger Daltry), Perry Mason (no, not that Perry Mason), and X AE A-12 Musk, 

Though I initially worried about meeting the strict safety requirements the governor’s protocols applied to holiday missives, I met with my team and ultimately decided not to opt out of this beloved annual tradition. With that in mind, I present to you the world’s first socially-distant, asymptomatic, N-95 masked, contactless, Onlyfans, curbside year-end recap for your fawning adulation.

Let me begin by bestowing upon all of you elbow bumps, hypothetical hugs, and a virtual round of drinks on me! (That is assuming there’s any alcohol left.) You may have noticed that 2020 has been one full-moon-Friday-the-13th-and-Ides-of-March-rolled-into-one of a year what with exploding trees, Sahara dust clouds, bubonic squirrels, walls of moms, mysterious Chinese seeds, genetically-engineered mosquitoes, attention-seeking flies, and murder hornets. Fortunately, we had “the Undoing,” but I’m not sure that took as we were all treated not unlike Rick Moranis on a routine stroll through New York City. Without a doubt, this year has been savage—bougie ruthless savage.

Still there were moments of brilliance penetrating the otherwise darkened landscape (likely from a fire burning in a forest nearby). Most notably, it was a year we rejoiced at the returns of favorites like “Saved by the Bell,” the Ford Bronco, and McRib sandwich; we embraced new and lasting fixtures in our lives such as Kentucky Fake Chicken, the care emoji, and Quibi; but we also said goodbye to many of our old friends including Mr. Peanut, “Keeping Up with the Kardashians,” and, of course, Quibi. It was sad to see them go, indeed. I’m sorry, I  meant to phrase that in the form of a question. What is it was sad to see them go? Moving on, I’ll take “Farewell Tributes” for $500, Alex! 

Like many of you, I spent much of my time boiling my fruit, scrubbing my milk cartons, debating the benefits of bleach as an aperitif, hoarding toilet paper, cutting my own hair, and bathing in hand sanitizer. The lockdown certainly put a crimp in my dreams and goals, but optimist that I am, I saw it as a quaran-tunity to expand my horizons and deepen my canyons. A partial list of my quaran-tivities includes: coming up with cute little terms to describe things done during quarantine, validating my two-step authentication methods, clearing out unused fonts from my computer, completing my correspondence course in bird dentistry, learning to shave with my other hand, binge-watching “60 Minutes” (spoiler: Season Six was pure fire!), baking 22 gross loaves of banana bread (by the eleventh loaf, they weren’t that gross), and going to great pains in getting the hummus to run out at the same time as the pita chips. Conversely, I also forgot how to drive, so that’s something I’ll have to relearn next year. 

How It Started

Athletically, it was a mixed bag this year as I said sayonara to my chances at winning gold at the Olympic Games in Tokyo, but back in April — or maybe it was October, damned if I know — I did earn a spot in the 2020 Marble League Championships. To get there, I had to endure air travel which was stressful as passengers definitely adopted a herd mentality. I managed by wiping down my tray table, seat belts, all the flight attendants, and individual peanuts in the snack packs. Plus, I had my trusted emotional support animal by my side. Ironically, an ocelot was not as calming as I would have liked, causing quite a bit of chaos throughout the cabin which got us relegated to the cargo hold for much of the flight.

Once in town, I stayed in the Bubble with other competitors for two weeks before the big event. I was confident that my marble, Superspeeder, was destined for greatness, and it was like Pfizer and Moderna for a lot of the race, before my horse ended up coming in dead last. I blame a vast conspiracy against me by the other racers. Somehow they were allowed to use faster marbles than I was. I will not be deterred as I’ve contested the race with the Marble Board of Governors. So don’t go having that victory parade just yet!

Leaving the cutthroat world of marbling behind me, I returned to my roots and began crafting some new stand-up material in the event live audiences become a thing again. However, I found my skills had atrophied some as nothing I wrote seemed to work. For instance, I had a Goya beans joke, but it went straight in the crapper. I had a Washington football team joke, but I couldn’t think of what to call it. I had a Kanye for President joke, but it ended before it began. And I had a joke about my 2020 plans, but it disappeared before I could do anything with it. They just didn’t meet my exceptional standards of humor. Except the joke I had about Carole Baskin. That one killed. 

As the year gracelessly trudged into December, I would like to say how touched I was at the hundreds of guests who attended my drive-by holiday party last week. I would have thanked you all right then and there, but such is the disadvantage to living beside a highway. As for the elephant swap, it is going well, but will require a little more patience. Rest assured, whoever picked “Number 8,” you’ll have your chance to decide whether or not you’ll keep it or trade it once the postal service delivers that gift to your home sometime in the coming months.

And now, as Santa’s sleigh carrying all the vaccines can be heard gliding from rooftop to rooftop, and candles offering pleasant scents of the holiday season invade my olfactory senses — ewwww! on second thought, what IS that smell? Has something gone bad? That’s the last time I buy candles from Gwyneth’s collection — I can’t help but take pride in what I’ve accomplished during these trying times. My hands, particularly, deserve praise while, for all available excuses to fall prey to the Devil’s playground by staying idle, they remained productive, all the while looking 💯 like those of The Crypt Keeper from all the Purell. 

As they say, hindsight is 2020, so let’s put it behind us and look ahead to the new year with excitement. May your PPE Tik Tok your Kornacki and Zoom your Toobin to the HBOMax Borat all four seasons total landscaping leaving you with a flattened curve throughout all of 2021!

Yours Truly from Six Feet Away,

Andy

2019 – A Year in Review

December 24, 2019 11:58 p.m. 

Dear friends, family members, strangers, strange family members, Baby Yoda, and Baby Shark doo doo doodoo doo doodoo doo doo doo doo,

Soooooooo that happened… 

What adventures and experiences filled my calendar in 2019, you ask? I take your question, but would much rather you ask the president of Finland a question. Nonetheless, Alexa, please recap the year for us as, like viewers of the most recent Peloton ad, I’m far too traumatized to recount it myself. In a year that took slightly longer to complete than a viewing of The Irishman, it will be remembered as one when the winner lost the Kentucky Derby, New York City lost power, Puerto Rico lost two governors in a week, everyone won the Spelling Bee, Popeye ran out of fried chicken, ASAP Rocky will uncharacteristically no longer be as prompt as his name suggests, Skywalker rose, Winter fell, and ET returned. In the end, however, I did manage to take the Iron Throne. 

I made a concerted effort this year to reconnect with my masculine side… for which I was sentenced to four weeks of court-ordered counseling. For starters, I added to my diet more brofu (processed soy in between two quarter-pound hamberders) wrapped in a leaf of Bromaine lettuce (the kind without the E. Coli) and a side of brogurt (milk fermented by bad decisions). And I began a regular practice of broga (standing pose next to the bench press with twice my body weight loaded on the plate, known as headupmyasana). And I am not ashamed to admit I had a couple of brotox sessions (where they Sharpied my eyebrows to resemble Jason Momoa’s). Next summer, I’m ramping up to climb Mt. Kilimanjarbro (which is actually the bunny slope at the Blue Hills Mountains.)

Financially speaking, I immersed myself into the world of investments with the Dow Jones reaching new levels. To help guide me, I snagged a copy of Antonio Brown’s book How to Turn $30 Million into $10 Million in No Time off the Bargain Shelf (which already saved me money), and began to play the market. Of course, not all my investments were winners as I mainly focused on high-risk, no-reward companies such as Theranos. I also bet a bundle on Thanos to win. So unfortunately, this left me only with enough money to buy a nice thermos. But I’m predicting the new Alliance of American Football league will be very profitable and so I’ve put a bid in on one of the teams. Always the charitable chap, I did manage to make a donation to a charity which gives spacesuits to female astronauts. 

While awaiting my purchase offer on Greenland to be accepted, I made my annual diurnal 

equinox travel plans. This year, my plan was to storm Area 51, but they were unceremoniously halted when someone blew the whistle on us and I had to hastily make other arrangements. I considered visiting all three Mexican countries instead, but ultimately decided for a more low-key sojourn. To that end, I took my horse to the Old Town Road then I rode until I couldn’t no more. When my horse had grown tired, we found ourselves in a small town where a neighborhood boy promised us entertainment. For just $20, he said that he had a baby goat that he painted a non-toxic chemiluminescence that lip-synced to Ariana Grande songs. Sounded good to me, but after I paid him, he denied ever telling me that. In fact, he claimed there was never any Kid Glow Show. 

After its final issue, people have been asking me if, as a comedian, I was ever a big fan of MAD Magazine and its hilarious features such as “Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions.” Well, the answer to that is… Not at all. I only read MAD for their culinary tips… The stacks of MAD Magazine books I have in my bedroom are only there to hide behind in the event of a zombie apocalypse… MAD? I’ve never heard of it or Don Martin or Al Jaffe or Spy v. Spy or anything they’ve ever done. Seriously, what a stupid question that is. It will be missed.

All in all, this moment of calm reflection has allowed me to review not just the last 365, but an entire decade. Thinking back to those halcyon pre-Malone days when we paid far too much for our cable package to these post-Malone days when we have been able to scrap our expensive cables plans in order to pay far more for a variety of subscription services. I’m sure I’ve aged, but using the Face App to see how I will look at the end of these upcoming 20s, I think I’m gonna be a-okay Boomer. 

Now, as I sink back on my orthopedic lounge chair, bathed in CBD oil, the residue from my vape pen now but a flavored memory, I realize it is most certainly a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. And with that, I say…

May peace and joy trigger you to a meltdown of health and prosperity throughout 2020. 

Yours Truly,

Andy Wasif