Andrew (Andy) Pagana

Posted by AndyFan: There is always the other hand.

With a sad and painful cry heard all the way up the street, Andy broke the cardinal rule of Captain-hood the other night—a Captain never touches his own parts. At least not under the hood. Of a car. Or boat if you must. That is what the engineers are for. To touch the captains motor. To turn it on. Make it hum. YOU know what I am talking about. No? Oh, no, oh, sorry, Andy burned his arm.

The events of Monday night, or was it Sunday, the days just fly by don’t they? I think it is the recession. People get so distracted that time just floats by and nothing gets done. A sure sign of the times. The average person just has too much on their plate and can not stay focused. Oh, yeah, the events of the other night are fuzzy because I was half asleep when I got the call from our screaming captain as he was using gutter water to flush out his eyes and rinse his arm, as he waited for the paramedics I heard approaching in the background. Apparently through all that chatter I realized he did in fact burn himself. The professional people-repair people said there was really very little a real doctor could do for him, so he should count himself lucky he only received mild chemical burns, go home and tie one off.

The whole event begs the question though, why was Andy playing sports? I mean seriously, he hates sports. It says so over there on the right. Why would he decide to open the hood of his car and take part in some NASCAR-like event when there were not ten million people sitting around waiting for a bunch of cars to stop going around in circles to see who wins the race to change their tires the fastest? Or in this case who can open the radiator cap the quickest before any heat is lost and the steam turns back into liquid? Why? And people, I know you can’t be everywhere at all times, but one of you should have been there to remind Andy that the the engine of a car contains an engine. It’s mechanical. Andy does not do mechanical. He has people for that. Black or white, Mexican or Chinese, Indian or Esopian, Andy as people to take care of the things he has little time or skill for. It’s in his contract.

Please Andyfans with a little f, pay attention next time.

Posted by AndyFan: Sometimes no matter how wrong something is, we are just compelled to try it anyway. Even if so many before us have failed. We forge on with the thought that maybe, just maybe, everyone else wasn’t trying hard enough. Maybe, quite possibly, they didn’t know what they were doing. This blog, for instance, started on such a whim. “No, it won’t be much work,” he said. “Really,” he responded, “are you sure?” “Absolutely! A few times a week and that is it,” he replies, “And once we get going it will be really easy. Think of all the readers!” You can discuss amongst yourself who he is and who he is not, but we know, and we are pissed. However, neither one of us is a quitter. (Ok we procrastinate like hell, but did we say we were giving up? NO! So sit down!) And in spite of a long and drawn out intermission, one in which the theater goers may have fallen asleep on the john, AndyFan was compelled to jump back in the saddle (are you really in the saddle or are you on the saddle, it is one of the stupider phrases we have turned around here). Upon the late night conversation that occurred as AndyFan failed to avoid another one of Andy’s calls, thus failing two fold as Andy would point out, AndyFan was bestowed an epiphany. And then he had a thought. Andy is a mad genius.

It is at times like these that AndyFan is the proudest to be Fan of Andy. It is precisely these instances that bring about entire shifts in the Andy universe. The ONLY universe. Radical landscape changes. Andy is not one for landscapes but he does enjoy a portrait or two (wait until I tell you what is coming!). Now AndyFan doesn’t know much about art but be does feel honored when Andy shares his with AndyFan. Since I am only “hired” help he could care less what I have to say. Such was the case when Andy talked over AndyFan as AndyFan was endowing kind words upon Andy for his latest post impressionistic masterpiece. Before you judge Andy for his disregard of artistic compliments (more is never really enough) understand he too was having an epiphany. “Oils and acrylics.” he evanglicized. “They don’t mix,” I told him (having painted my share of walls, thank you very much). “I know, but I gotta see for myself.” “But Andy, you get so frustrated when things don’t work.” “I know, I know, but I am compelled to try.”

Ladies and gentlemen, there in lies the reason The Spirit of Andy Compels Me and perhaps even this blog exists. We were compelled, we had a thought and thought you would want to know what we were thinking about Andy, because, well, Andy is so compelling. The Spirit lives on.

Rated NC-17 because apparently this stuff is very taboo. Posted by AndyFan: What the effing eff is a reimagining? Seriously? Can someone tell me? No, right the eff right effing now? And while you are at it can you explain reboot to my simple little mind? No, really? I don’t get it. A computer gets rebooted. Or a hooker after a nice romp in the sack. I understand the latter but I’m still not sure what the former means. But right now I don’t understand most computer terms except for undo, which should not be proprietary to computers. That my friends should come with real life, imagined or otherwise. However that is another post. Another Compelling post. This one is about the movies that I want deleted before they are even created, I’m sorry, rebooted, recreated, or reimagined as you will. The uncompelling ones. And some that have already been. Undo those effers too.

If you imagine something, you believe it to be. You can then go off and make it so, or just continue to believe, in your own world, happy and content. What exactly does it take to reimagine something. How effing lazy and apathetic are you that you couldn’t hold onto the thought, whether membered or remembered, and know that hey, you or someone else with a better brain than you had that thought already. Maybe it was good the first time. Maybe even better. Maybe you should just leave it the eff alone. Maybe, just maybe, if you got your head out of your arse for just a few effing minutes you might realize that if you have to imagine a few new words that make no sense just so that you have something to talk about what you have just “reimagined” to death, then maybe, just maybe, you might realize where your head is, that that genius idea you had wasn’t quite so much, since you really didn’t have it, someone else did a long long time ago, and they are pissed right now because what was once great, or at the very least compelling, has stink written all over it now. Seriously, where is the undo when you need it? On second thought, hold the explanations. I have already reimagined that you don’t exist. Never did in fact.

Here is a drawing sent in by my fan, Julie, from Palm Springs, California. Julie, you have captured my boyish charm, my sparkling eyes and my shining smile. I indeed have given you a subject that has elevated your work. Yes, Julie, you are welcome.