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Over 17 years ago, local musician George D Delgrosso found the Sarnia jazz scene so enthralling he knew he needed to showcase it.

Sarnia Can Am Jazz was born and this year they giving a nod to Canadian artists in honour of Canada 150.

can be a lot of things. It relaxing. It can be really smooth. It can be exciting and, the reality is, it not stuffy, laughed Jane Anema from the Sarnia Community Foundation, which helps organize the annual event.

On Sunday, there shouldn be an empty space on the dance floor as over 200 to 300 people are expected to attend and are swept up first by the swinging jump n jive group, The JitterBugs, who pay homage to Frank Sinatra, Louis Jordan and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy.

Internationally renowned jazz vocalist Denise Pelley, who opened for Aretha Franklin, will belt out old school jazz reminiscent of Ella Fitzgerald and Count Basie. and London.

jazz gives one a taste of experiencing ideas on the spot because jazz includes improvisation, Pelley said. are free so you can go anywhere. Even with a vocalist, (they) can explore while singing, adding their own spin on the song. of the usual mix of Canadians and Americans, it will be the first that both performers are Canadian. Both performers also come from London, Ont., and this weekend also marks the second consecutive year The Jitterbugs have performed at Can Am Jazz.

Closing out the night will be a joint performance between the two jazz performers. at Sarnia Best Western Guildwood Inn on Sunday.

Jazz is an art form meant to be experienced and Anema notes people might not realize just how much jazz has already influenced their musical tastes. That why she calls jazz the roots of a lot of music.

such a broad based musical style that is the genesis of so many other things, she said. you listen to a lot of new music coming out, there jazz rhythms all the way through. the past six years, the foundation has lent its support and transformed Can Am Jazz into a fundraiser and solidified a lasting legacy for Dr. D. The foundation gives grants to charitable organizations which they say help improve the quality of life in Sarnia Lambton.

The foundation started in 1983. Since then, more than $4 million has been granted to the art scene, to emerging issues like mental health, social service agencies, and to senior citizen projects. In the past year alone, approximately $200,000 has been donated to various groups.

Additionally, every year, about $40,000 in scholarships are given to local students. The proceeds from Can Am Jazz will be pumped back into the community, including into the foundation fund of the arts.

People can buy tickets for $25 from the Sarnia Community Foundation office at 110 560 Exmouth St., with some being offered at the door.

When people go, Pelley says they be keeping jazz vibrant.

is important not only to the Canadian culture but to culture in general, she said. like wanting your family lineage to keep going. I want to see jazz go on with future generations.
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Forward to the Revised Second Edition of Horse Cock: A Life In 27 Inches

In recent months, some particularly vicious critics have challenged the truth of my best selling memoir, Horse Cock: A Life In 27 Inches. These accusations cut me deeply. Horse Cock is a memoir, the true story of my life. Condemning it isn’t just attacking my writing it’ attacking my life itself.

The New York Times has published extensive refutations of 322 of the 325 pages of Horse Cock, citing hundreds of eyewitnesses who vehemently disagree with my interpretation of the events described. Let me just say this in my defense I guess I remember things differently. History will judge me. History and the 43 individual lawsuits I’m currently facing.

But there is one truly vile accusation that I simply can’t ignore by burying my head in a pillow stuffed with mescaline. It’ perhaps the most serious one because it challenges the foundation on which my entire life is built. The accusation is this that I do not in fact have a 27 inch horse cock.

Until six months ago, I wouldn’t have even dignified this spurious claim with a verbal response. I would’ve simply unzipped my fly and dropped my 27 inch horse cock onto the shoes of my accuser. Unfortunately, three events have happened recently that force me to approach these once baseless claims with more delicacy.

It’ well known among music industry insiders that the majority of female recording artists keep a full grown wolverine inside their vaginas at all times. This fad was started by Fiona Apple in the early 1930s, but these days a list of Grammy winners for best female vocalist is also a list of women with wolverines in their vaginas.

Now, as a humble memoirist, unversed in the ways of glamorous musicians, I was unaware of this fact. So it never occurred to me, before inserting my horse cock into Ashlee Simpson’ vagina backstage at this year’ Golden Globes, to ask whether she’d remembered to remove her wolverine. Sadly, in her narcotic haze, she hadn’t. The result being, 8 inches were bitten off my horse cock by the underfed beast.

The encounter will be documented on Ashlee’ next album, in the song “My Vagina, Your Abattoir”.

At the time, this wasn’t a problem after all, anything above 16 inches technically qualifies as a horse cock, so I had a good 3 inches of leeway.

But then I got into a knife fight with the President of Iran. You see, I was on a top secret diplomatic mission in Tehran when my squadron was captured and tortured mostly getting slathered with honey and pelted with wasp nests, nothing unmanageable. But to save my squadron I was forced to duel with Iran’ crazed President, Mamoud Ahmadinejad.

We were both stripped nude and given butterfly knives, as is the Iranian custom. But my foe was unaware that my horse cock has the flexibility and strength of a prehensile tail. Feinting left, I deflected his thrust, dropped my knife and caught it in mid air with my horse cock. Unfortunately, a sudden gust of desert wind threw off the knife’ rotation as it dropped and my horse cock grabbed it by the blade instead of the handle. That unavoidable error caused 9 inches to be sliced off my horse cock.

Not to worry,
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I still bested President Ahmadinejad by directing the geyser of blood spurting from my severed horse cock into his eyes, blinding him long enough to cut out his kidneys and feast on them while he writhed at my feet, as is the Iranian custom.

But this noble duel cost me dearly at 10 inches I no longer technically had a horse cock. It was more like, I don’t know, a donkey cock.

Still, 10 inches pretty sweet. Or at least it was, until my recent trip to space.

I learned two important things on that trip. One, if you’re ever on an emergency space walk to repair a crucial sensor damaged during a meteor storm, and a seal tears on your gorgeous astronaut assistant’ air hose, many times the only solution is to risk your own life by whipping down your space pants and furiously ejaculating into the torn air hose, thereby sealing it and saving her from imminent implosion.

Two, in such an instance, always remember to pull up your space pants before slamming the airlock door closed, because if your cock is larger than the NASA approved 6 inches the steel reinforced airlock door will more than likely chop 4 inches off your formerly horse cock.

Suffice it to say, lesson learned.

Well, I guess I actually learned three things if you’re going to have emergency cock reconstruction surgery, pay full price. No matter how big the discount, it’ not worth the infection. If anyone knows what this creamy purple stuff is that I’ve been urinating for the past few weeks, please drop me a line care of my publisher.

My point being, while I did in fact have an according to Hoyle horse cock a borderline monster cock, falling just shy of the 30 inch monster cock cut off point through no fault of my own I’m now in possession of a just slightly above average cock.

For many of my fans this revelation may be upsetting. But please keep in mind that at 6 inches, my cock is still a full half inch over the 5.5 inch national average and as such I feel the horse cockian point of view that’ defined my life hasn’t changed.

I may have lost 21 inches, but I’ve won something far more valuable an understanding of the common, just slightly above average cocked man. Women unfortunately remain a mystery. A tantalizing mystery that I believe can only be solved through vaginal penetration and my own crippling fear of commitment.

By purchasing this memoir, you’ve seen beyond the tyranny of facts and allowed me to penetrate the moist, gaping vagina that is your mind with a rock hard 27 inch horse cock of partially embellished semi truth. For that I thank you, my publisher thanks you, and the ghost of my severed horse cock thanks you.
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