Andy Anderson: 1958-2016

November 18th,1958 – July 30th, 2016

Andy Ray Anderson of Venice, Florida passed away Saturday, July 30th, 2016 after a brief fight with cancer. Andy passed with his loving wife Cindi, beautiful daughter Ashlei, and old friend Rick Baum and wife Sue at his side.

Born and raised in Bainbridge, Ohio to Patricia “Patsy” and Charles “Dink” Anderson, Andy attended Paint Valley High School with his older brother Brent.

Andy’s exploits on the football field, baseball diamond and basketball court are legendary. He played college baseball at Kent State University and was inducted into the Paint Valley Athletic Hall of Fame in 2011.

In the late 1980’s Andy moved to Florida where he met and fell in love with the love of his life, Cindi Paine. On March 13, 1993 they welcomed their precious angel Ashlei Mae Anderson into this world.

Andy worked at many of the local pubs in Venice as a bartender, including Flannagan’s Pub and The Green Diamond, where he worked for the last 6-years.

In his spare time Andy loved to spend time with Cindi and Ashlei, who he loved more than anything in the world. By moving to Florida, Andy truly found what he was looking for.

Andy was loved by many and had a multitude of friends in both Ohio and Florida. Among those who spent time with Andy during his last days were lifelong friends Dave Shoemaker, Tom Elliott and Rick Baum.

Andy had a vibrant personality that could light up a room, was extremely loyal, and to count him as a friend was truly a blessing.

Andy was preceded in death by his parents, Patsy and Dink Anderson and sister-in-law Traci Paine Bartram. Also grandparents Helen and Starlie “Jim” Anderson and Frank and Sarah Swisshelm, Uncles William “Bill” Anderson and Donald “Jigger” Anderson, and cousins Ann and Mark Anderson.

He is survived by wife Cindi, daughters Ashlei and Lindsay, his brother Brent and sister-in-law Jill, his Aunt Lucy and Uncle Dave Anderson, Aunts Charlotte Anderson and Aunt Karen Anderson-Armstrong, and several cousins .

They say that the quality of one’s life is more important than the quantity, and Andy lived a fulfilling life that touched everyone with whom he came in contact.

Andy Anderson is gone, but he will never, ever be forgotten.

Ever heard of Salty and Roselle? If you haven’t it’s a damn shame because their story is amazing. Both were in the World Trade Center, Building 1, on September 11th, 2001 when the plane hit. Salty was on the 71st floor and Roselle was on the 78th, and both miraculously led their friends to safety amidst the chaos before the burning tower collapsed.

It may not surprise you to learn that Salty and Roselle were dogs, and they were the only guide dogs in the Towers that day.

When the attacks occurred that terrible day, Salty and his sightless owner, Omar Rivera, found themselves on the 71st floor. Refusing to leave Rivera’s side, Salty stayed with his best friend. About halfway down a co-worker, trying to help, tried to take Salty’s lead but it was a no go. Salty refused to leave Omar, leading him to safety and away from the soon-to-be fallen building.

Roselle? She was asleep under her blind best friend Michael Hingson’s desk on the 78th floor in Tower 1 of the when the attack commenced. She was awakened by the plane impacting some fifteen floors above them. Roselle then calmly and bravely led Hingson to Stairwell B despite the smoke, confusion and noise surrounding her.

She then proceeded to lead her owner and 30 other people down 1,463 steps and out of the tower. And do you know the only time Roselle stopped, about halfway down? It was to pause and lick the hands of some people going up the stairs – the firefighters.

Somehow, it seemed that Roselle knew.

The descent of took just over an hour, and just after exiting the tower, it collapsed, sending debris flying everywhere. Hingson later said, “While everyone ran in panic, Roselle remained totally focused on her job, while debris fell around us, and even hit us, Roselle stayed calm.” Once clear, Roselle led her owner to the safety of a subway station.

Salty passed away in 2008 at the age of 11, and Roselle followed in 2011 at the age of 13. Both died as unsung heroes of 9/11.

Dogs, huh? If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a million times – one day we’re going fully understand what dogs know and just how much they understand, and the answer will surprise us.


Barley Pop!


In honor of The Walking Dead returning in October, I shall now present to you my four favorite zombie-proof houses. Enjoy.

The Winding Tower Shime Coal Mine in Japan


This 156.3 ft tall structure was built from 1941 to 1943 and remained in operation for over 21 years before it was closed down in 1961. All you need to do is remodel the inside and you’re good to go. The perfect zombie safezone!

Dunbar Rock, Honduras


Yeah, I know zombies can walk underwater. Still, they’re not real nimble and would have a helluva time getting up those rocks. Looks like you could easily make it defensible to me.

The Safe House


The house has movable walls, only one entrance (which is located on the second floor) which is accessed after crossing a drawbridge. The perfect place to defend your family from the undead horde!

The Cold War Adirondack Park Missile Silo House


Situated deep within the Adirondack State Park in Upstate New York, this cabin was built atop a cold-war era missile silo and is currently on the market for only $1.75 million dollars! You’ll be glad you purchased it when the zombie apocalypse comes calling!



“Just shut it, Carl. Shut. It.”


M-m-m-m-m. Tasty.



Tip Jar



History is not always just what we were taught in schools, folks. Some things truththat happened were simply a little too horrific to face at the time, were hidden to cover our country’s ass, or just sort of ignored and forgotten in the mists of time.

Sort of a “Nothing to see here, please move along” mentality if you will.

I’ve already written about what happened at the first permanent English colony in the New World, Jamestown, in my blog called Historic Feasts: The Truth About Jamestown. Yeah, bet you never read the following in your 4th Grade history textbook:

  • Turns out America was an absolutely terrible place to live in the beginning. Food was so scarce during the first winter that only 60 out of 500 colonists survived. That’s a survival rate of 12%, folks, which is not good. Anyway, everyone was really hungry so they had to resort to some rather, uh, interesting methods of chowing down. A government document from that time gives the gruesome details: “Driven thru insufferable hunger to eat those things which nature most abhorred, the flesh and excrements of man as well of our own nation as of an Indian, digged by some out of his grave after he had lain buried three days and wholly devoured him; others, envying the better state of body of any whom hunger has not yet so much wasted as their own, lay wait and threatened to kill and eat them; one among them slew his wife as she slept in his bosom, cut her in pieces, salted her and fed upon her till he had clean devoured all parts saving her.”

Yeah, brutal, I know. They ate dead bodies and poop. Yowza.

And it wasn’t just the people in the distant past who kept the nastiness on the downlow and out of the press. How about this nugget from the attack on Pearl Harbor?

On December 7, 1941, the USS West Virginia took heavy damage in the attack and settled onto the bottom of Pearl Harbor. Spilling oil, the twisted wreck was an explosion waiting for a spark. Problem was, after the battle recovery crews were forced to wait for the sea to wash away the flammable liquid before they moved in, a simple task that turned horrific when the banging started.

Seems that three men—Ronald Endicott, Clifford Olds, and Louis “Buddy” Costin—were trapped somewhere in the dark, flooded ship.

A small bubble of air had kept the trio alive, and they were desperately signaling for help, completely unaware of the situation with the oil. Unfortunately, rescue was too dangerous to attempt. Helpless bystanders and rescuers could only listen as the gut-wrenching banging carried on for days, never to be answered.

Sadly, 6-months later the ship was finally raised, and the corpses of the three men were found huddled in a small storeroom. A calendar they left there revealed that it had taken them 16-days to suffocate.

That’s almost too sad to comprehend, man, and this terrible tragedy was underpublicized and swept under the rug amidst the public furor and patriotism following the attack.

Around 45-years later the space shuttle Challenger exploded shortly after takeoff, killing all seven crew members. Most people assumed that the crew was killed instantly by the force of the blast. Unfortunately, that’s likely not true.

The part of the shuttle that housed the crew was ejected in the explosion but remained pretty much intact. Recovery teams sifting through the wreckage later found three activated emergency oxygen canisters, suggesting that at least three of the doomed astronauts survived the initial blast. This means that the unfortunate crew had a horrifically long time to stare their unavoidable death in the face during the 12-mile free fall back to Earth. Experts say the undamaged crew compartment soared to a peak altitude of 65,000 feet before even beginning its curve earthward.

And it was a full 2-minutes and 45-seconds before it made its fatal impact on the surface of the ocean.

After the tragedy, NASA took steps to hide evidence that the astronauts were aware of their impending doom, partly to spare the families of the dead but also out of simple embarrassment. However, sufficient evidence has been revealed to suggest that the astronauts suffered a fate far worse than death.

That’s just awful.

Additional Gruesome Fact: Astronaut Mike Smith’s final words, uttered for history and preserved on the Challenger crew cabin recorder, were as follows:


Sorry for the downer, kids, but we have to be honest about history, correct? Don’t we want to know the truth?

I know I do.



What a mother.

Mom Note




Image  —  Posted: August 22, 2016 in Fails, Humor, Tweet of the Day, Tweets

Land Ho! I have no idea what that means.


From Lake County, Ohio:labradoodle-dog-breed

Polo died a hero. 

When his owners house caught fire, Polo the Labradoodle protected baby Viv from the flames, putting his body over hers. Viv lived, but is in serious condition with 19 percent of her body burned. Polo did not make it. 

The mother, Erika, was also burned in the fire and has been released from the hospital, but Viv remains in the ICU. 

The family lost everything in the flames. But thanks to the courage of one pup, their little baby was saved. 

This doesn’t surprise me at all because, you know, dogs. They’re just amazing. Lay their life on the line for you because that’s what they do. Hell, a cat would not only been the first one out of the house but was probably the one who started the fire. Dogs? They’ll stay until everyone is safe, even at the expense of their own lives.

Good dog, Polo. Good dog.

Dang that looks tasty.


Who let the . . . nah, I can’t go there.


The Shape-Shifting Frog is a wizard, man. Found in Ecuador, they can change the texture of their skin at will—from smooth to bumpy depending on their surroundings. Da hell? These cuties are teeny-tiny, the size of a marble, and it’s spectacular to see their skin in action. Check out the incredible video if you don’t believe me. Anyhoo, Shape-Shifting Frog.


The human retina is actually brain tissue. You see with an exposed part of your brain.



Streamline Moderne is a late type of Art Deco architecture and design that emerged in the 1930s. Some people call it Air Flow Design as well. Its architectural style emphasized curving forms, long horizontal lines and it was cool as hell. I don’t know, there’s just something rally appealing to me about the look. There were Streamline Moderne automobiles, houses, furniture, appliances, and even toys. Check out the slideshow below. Love it, man.

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Some rules are made to be broken, man.













Would I use the Nod Pod Neck Hammock? Hell yes I’d use the Nod Pod Neck Hammock. I don’t want a Nod Pod Neck Hammock, I need a Nod Pod Neck Hammock. It’s supposed to be used on airplanes and stuff but I’d use the Nod Pod Neck Hammock while I’m actually driving or just sitting around the house. Plus, every time people asked what it was I’d get to say the words Nod Pod Neck Hammock. Cool.


A couple years ago I wrote an innocent story (or so I thought) about a story I saw on TV regarding a national clown shortage. Hating clowns the way I do I sort of gleefully reported the news and poked fun at them. Well, turns out one of the bozos didn’t appreciate my sort of humor, possibly because it didn’t include a big red nose, giant shoes, a flower that squirts water and a hand buzzer.

So, below you shall find my original story, followed by a story I wrote about the email I got from the pissed-off clown, with my reaction included. You can’t make this stuff up, folks. Read on . . .


So I heard on TV recently that there is soon to be a clown shortage in our clowncountry. To the Ronald McDonald’s of the world, this may constitute a national emergency.

To me? A reason to rejoice.

Anyway, my crack staff here at Shoe: Untied researched it, and it’s sho’nuff true. Here’s the story:

The U.S.’s clown shortage is no laughing matter.

Love the last paragraph:

International competition may also be a factor. “There’s a lot of clowns coming out of China who will work for really cheap,” Seal added. 

Nothing worse than a cheap Chinese clown, amirite?

So here’s my thing with clowns – I hate ’em. Something about the way they look and the way they hide behind their creepy clown face-paint. Did you know infamous serial killer John Wayne Gacy was a part-time clown?

And I read that article, and the fact that there’s a World Clown Association is absolutely horrifying. The thought of hundreds of these bozos meeting on a regular basis gives me chills.

But am I biased, you ask? Has my clown attitude somehow been tainted? It has.

Let me tell you a quick story . . .

Years ago I went to a coaches clinic at a big hotel in Columbus. It just so happens that there were two other groups having conventions at the same hotel that weekend – Mary Kay Cosmetics reps and clowns.

Think about it. Three large groups at the same hotel, hanging in the lobby, going to the bar, wandering the hallways. These groups were coaches, clowns and Mary Kay reps. And yes, it was as freaky as it sounds.

And do you know who was the nastiest, drunkest, meanest group of the three?

Clowns, and it wasn’t even close.

They’d pull up to the lobby in a little car, sixteen of them would roll out stinking drunk, staggering around, dropping their pants and squirting God knows what into people’s faces. It was just awful. There were several fights, almost always started by the clowns. They harassed the Mary Kay women, got thrown out of the bar, mooned people in elevators, and bitched and moaned at the reception desk about prices and room service.

Clowns are nasty.

Believe me, when coaches are the voice of virtue and reason at an out-of-town conference, you are officially in Bizarro World.

Note: The clowns had one of those big conference rooms where they sold clown stuff, and it was incredible. You had to have some sort of official clown card so I couldn’t get in, but what I caught glimpses of was awesome. You could buy giant clown shoes, flowers that squirted water, red noses, fright wigs, those joy buzzers you shock people with, everything a clown could ever want. I know, weird. I hate clowns but I’d love to have the clown paraphernalia.


Now I’ve gone and done it. I’ve pissed off a clown. Yesterday I wrote about my hatred of 1clowns and late last night I got a response. Apparently the writer of the email is a lifelong clown who took offense to my opinion and felt the need shoot me an angry missive.

In the spirit of fairness I shall now print, word for word, the angry clown’s email. My response follows. Enjoy:

Dear Shoe: Untied,

I read with much consternation your blog and your opinion of clowns. I have been a clown for 37 years, and I can assure you I have never been drunk on the job, dropped my pants inappropriately, insulted a woman, complained to a hotel receptionist, nor been in a fight.

I come from a long line of clowns. My grandfather was a clown, my father was a clown, and my mother was a clown. I hope my son becomes a clown. 

Our purpose as clowns is simple – to make people laugh. Obviously you don’t find clowns funny but I can assure you that many people do.

Finally, your comparison of clowns to serial killers is ignorant and mean spirited. And you should know that there are some clowns you don’t want to anger. Remember that.


[name redacted]

Whoa, back up there a second, Mr. Clown.

That sure took a dark turn. The angry clown was objecting to my blog in such a polite and respectful way, and then I’m pretty sure I was threatened there at the end.

But I gotta tell you, as I was reading this I couldn’t stop laughing.

I mean, has there ever been anything written that is funnier than “I come from a long line of clowns. My grandfather was a clown, my father was a clown, and my mother was a clown. I hope my son becomes a clown“? That cracks me up because it’s hilarious and sort of sad at the same time.

And is there an appropriate way to drop your pants? I’m dyin’ over here.

And isn’t it kind of fitting that I got the email at 2:30 in the morning? Can’t you just picture some poor 51-year old clown, still in make-up, sitting at a computer in his mom’s basement having just returned from a 189-mile trip (one way) to entertain a group of 7-year olds at a birthday party in upstate New Jersey? Can’t you just see the sad clown reading my blog, shaking his head, pounding his keyboard and firing off a response? I bet he even ripped his nose off and threw it in the corner in a fit of clown rage.

Comedy gold.

I swear, the only thing that would have made the email better is if he’d signed it with his clown name. How awesome would it have been if he had concluded with, “Sincerely, Bonkers the Clown”?

God, that would have been epic.

To conclude, let it be known to all that I may soon be attacked by an angry clown.  Yes, a clown attack may be imminent. So, attention all residents of western Ross County! Be on the lookout for a man with orange hair, size 27 shoes and a bright red bulbous nose. He has also been seen traveling with a dog, which is made from balloons. If you see this man do not approach him, as he may be armed with seltzer water, a squirting flower and a large rubber hammer that squeaks upon impact.

I swear I’m in tears right now.

And the best part of all this? It’s the first time a clown has ever made me laugh.

Note: Does anyone else see the irony in the clown being upset about my serial killer line, then basically threatening me? Hilarity. 

Or maybe Uranus, because this cheerleader isn’t human. The kid just did what the interweb is calling “5 Double Twists and 4 Passes” whatever the hell that is. All I know is, this isn’t humanly possible. Kid has to be from another planet. Case closed.