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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 

My Year in Review for 2018

December 24, 2018 6:14 p.m. 

Ready Player One? Let’s get to this year’s recap!: 

Dear Evan Hansen, friends, family, unindicted co-conspirators, David Dennison, Individual-1, Bart O’Kavanagh, Scott Free, the Marvelous Ms. Maisel, and old acquaintances Murphy, Will, Grace, Miss Poppins, and most of the Connor family, 

First of all, let me give a very gracious thank you to those of you who sent friend requests to my inbox this holiday season. I will respond to you as soon as I’ve managed to quarantine the viruses and restore all functionality to my computer.

Dilly Dilly! What a crazy year it has been, the craziest we’ve ever seen from a standpoint of craziness. This particular revolution around the sun flew by faster than a Davidson/Grande union. While everyone was hearing Laurel or Yanny, I spent a fortnite flossing and tidying, hyping and orange justicing. Tide Pod Challenge? Defeated it!. . . Bowling Ball Test? Scored 100%!. . . Ballistic inbound missile? Marked myself safe!. . . Playing the market? Yeah, okay, that’s one I wish I had back. But overall, I was winning like a Bichon Frise at Westminster where every other pet was flying United. In short, 2018 was legit bougie on the daily.

This was an especially exceptional year for my self-improvement, which began with an overhaul of my typical diet which wasn’t easy. No longer could I subsist on sweets from Dunkin’ Donuts, I now had to find my nourishment elsewhere such as at establishments like Dunkin’. I also adopted a flexible vegan diet where I ate all the meat I wanted, but my definition of “vegan” was not as rigid. But the magic elixir was ultimately found in eating nothing but Romaine lettuce and raw cookie dough for two weeks. You wouldn’t know to look at me, but my tapeworm has gained ten pounds. 

I also decided to make strides in my fitness and so signed up for my first Toyotathon. I trained for it by going to a President’s Day mattress sale, battling it out for an afternoon at Build a Bear, and for my final warm up, spent two hours with Kanye. I was ready! Sadly, it did not go well as I ended up pulling my clutch early on then spent the rest of the -thon favoring my gear box. Never the Discouraged Dickey, though next year, I plan on signing up for a Macy’s Labor Day Spectacular.

Of which I may be most proud this year is finally becoming “woke” and realizing that Benecio and Guillermo Del Toro are two separate people. . . and neither is a bullfighter. Who knew?

But DO NOT CONGRATULATE! I also had my share of tribunals and tabulations, such as the time I mispronounced trials and tribulations a moment ago. However, I plead the fifth, invoke attorney/client privilege, refer you to my NDA (unsigned, of course), and revoke your security clearance as you’re on a need to know basis, but the kerfuffle stemmed from my job making robocalls for an infinity stones company which, to my surprise turned out to be a money laundering scheme. When the ****hole country hit the fan, I denied it, but Lordy, there are tapes!

What I can tell you is that it was the night of the blood moon when what happened was [redacted] videos of Bigfoot [redacted] which quickly became [redacted] leading to the end of Moviepass that, in turn, caused [redacted] a $130,000 payout that required me to [redacted] all but ruining my chance of hosting the Oscars. It was unquestionably a fiasco, though [redacted] an “Alf” reboot. 

I know you’re screaming, “We call BS!” But truth isn’t truth! It you want the full story, you’ll have to talk to my lawyer’s lawyer.

Through it all, I managed to sneak some traveling into my schedule, spending two weeks in Paradise, mostly raking the forest, but the real adventure began on my trip home when a problem with passenger nudity (not mine) caused a delay on the runway. The airline said they could put me on another flight right away, but with a layover in Devil’s Triangle which, understandably, I turned down. The alternative was a caravan which slowly made its way back toward home and included a detour through Marwen where everyone was an absolute doll.

At this point, I would be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to remember my dear friend Geoffrey, one of youthful spirit, gentle hospitality, and the best for less so you could really flip your lid. I’ll always remember him from our time together at Toys Were Us. 

Now, as I put the winter classic “Baby, It’s Cold Outside, but You Can’t Stay Here Because People Will Get the Wrong Idea” on the hi-fi and snuggle up in my living room in front of a smocking fire wearing my Yeezys and Lululemon pants, drinking a Ketogenic prime rib smoothie through the last of the plastic straws, I’m reminded of the fact that, well, I don’t have a fireplace. It was my understanding that my neighbor would pay for it, but apparently I boofed. Womp womp! Please forgive me as I cut this letter short to look for an extinguisher.

May your health and success in the new year be genetically cloned to produce superfortune impervious to sickness and failure!

Scooby doo pa-pa! 

Yours truly,

Andy Wasif   

“The Tanya Harding Song”

Written in the wake of the knee-ing given to Nancy Kerrigan at the hands of a Tanya Harding associate leading up to the 1994 Winter Games in Lillehammer, Andy Wasif wrote this song (performed by acclaimed NBC Sports broadcaster Mike Murphy) for the Crazy Morning Crew, WJPZ’s wacky morning radio show in Syracuse, NY.

Click here to listen

New Book Now Available on Amazon

Don’t Talk Sports at the Dinner Table, a compilation of the best essays from “Wasif’s World” on Yahoo! Sports on-line magazine ThePostGame, it features all the absurdities of sports and the fans plus how closely sports mirrors life.

Click here for your copy

Boston Marathon Q&A: Ask the Expert (or the Only Guy Available)

From the “Wasif’s World” page on Yahoo’s on-line magazine The PostGame, the definitive Q&A on the annual tradition of running the Boston Marathon.

Click here to read it

Sharon Advocate Features Wasif

His hometown paper, The Sharon (Mass.) Advocate, wrote a feature on Andy Wasif in December 2017 as part of its Local Author Spotlight.

Click here to read it

But Wait, There’s More

How many times has this happened to you…? Got a problem? We’ve got the solution. The classic infomercial structure and all the tropes are right here in one place in a sketch written by Andy Wasif and originally performed on the Acme Comedy Theater Stage in Los Angeles.

Starring:
Andy Wasif as Gary
Chance Levine as Dan
Jim Jackson as Professor
Travis Sentell as Satisfied Customer

Click here to watch

2017 – My Year in Review

December 24, 2017 8:53 p.m.

Dearest friends, family, good people on both sides, Irma, Harvey, Jose, Maria, Reality Winner, Young Sheldon, Jayden K Smith, Lord Buckethead, and all you dotards out there. And to those Russian bots scanning this transmission, С Рождеством!

Before I begin, I must send my thoughts and prayers to those who have lost loved ones in the Bowling Green Massacre, the Sweden Attacks, the Panem Hunger Games, the “La La Land” Best Picture mishap, and the Atlanta Falcons Super Bowl collapse. We grieve bigly.

And now on with the only fake news that is really fake. Please take a knee!. . . NO! . . .Wait! Stand! . . . Aw, heck, do as you want, it’s a free country. . . at least for now. . . But leave your pants ON, for God’s sake! 

Where did the year go? (Asking for a friend.) 280 characters flew by like it was only 140. It certainly was a year of stranger things, messed up AF, straight savage, garbage fasho! But I’m done throwing shade on it, so I’ll just take the L. (And that was all before I earned my certificate in Millennial Speech: 101 at an online community college. Sorry, not sorry.) Let us think back upon a year of leaks, leakers, leeks (delicious in soups), wildfires, “You’re fired!”, and the Fyre Festival. But so. . . much. . . winning that it’s made me wanna do the Salt Bae Dance.

Overall, my time out west was eventful as I’m sure you know it was a year of scandal in Hollywood. The town got Fifty Shades Darker when The Star was told to Get Out. Yup, he was unceremoniously booted from the Glass Castle. After all, he was the Boss, Baby! Though it certainly was Beauty and the Beast. It’s a Wonder it took this long to expose The Big Sick sleaze ball. What a Disaster Artist he was! From there, It was one big Justice League on all these culprits. Such is Life. 

Unfortunately, I too did not escape unscathed due to the actions I took during my younger days. Back then, I attended a lot of music concerts and was frequently stuck sitting on the lawn with the rest of the less affluent masses. So I thought it would be a good idea to sign up for a fan club or two to have access to better seats. In hindsight, I realize I probably should not have become a “humper,” but I will never regret my love of Englebert Humperdink though I have since let my fan club membership lapse. Even with my most sincere apology, however, I still got fired from my new job after only ten days, two days before my official start date.

On the bright side, that left me with ample time to pursue several entrepreneurial ventures, including: a line of clothes for pet birds, the condiment combination ketchrelstard, and various Uber knockoffs such as Gluber (in classroom adhesive delivery for kids); Suber (instant lawsuits); Muber (dairy products when you need them); and Hans Gruberuber (Alan Rickman comes to your house in 24 hours or less to recite lines from “Die Hard”). I even found time to upload an audiobook version of my nonfiction work “Why People Don’t Listen” on Audible, but . . . at present, it has yet to register its first sale on the platform. 

I also made a concerted effort this year to improve my health by focusing on weight loss, my “skinny repeal” so to speak. I thrived on a steady diet of nothing burgers (medium rare) and covfefe smoothies while drenching everything else in gorgonzola and feta (which kept me from eating it because I hate that stuff). After two weeks, I’m proud to report that I lost almost 20 I.Q. points. I’m now completely vegan, eating only those animals that abstain from meat.  

When it comes to travel, sadly, the year was not an abundant as I had hoped. I planned to visit Puerto Rico, which a lot of people don’t know is an island with a lot of water around it and that makes it very difficult to get to, a very big island… but I have booked another trip for the coming days. I leave to Nambia in mid-January, which I’m excited about. I’ve even begun learning Nambian!

And so as “winter is coming,” and the stockings are stuffed with fidget spinners, dog whistles, and unusable World Cup tickets, I sit by the brilliant glow of my Tiki torches, engaged in a little light reading (an unabridged copy of the Steele Dossier), a refreshing Mueller High Life in hand, and the knowledge that my bank account is bursting with bitcoins keeping me as safe and secure as a passenger on United Airlines. I bid you all a most wonderful evening. 

May the fruits of hope and prosperity be cross bred to bring you a 2018 filled with hoperity!

Bye Felicia!

Hugs, 

Andy Wasif