Why The Amish Are Cooler Than You

Admit it, you saw the title and had to read further. I am totally diggin' me some Amish action lately. I see straw hats, bonnets, and horse drawn buggys and I think, "Damn, break me off a piece of that!" I cannot find me a butter churn fast enough.  We all love the Amish. We find their culture and lifestyle fascinating. Here's your evidence that the Amish are hot: Last week I bought a shed from the Amish. (Notice how we always refer to them as 'The Amish'? As if they're all one group or a large object of some sort.) So after my awesome, built like a fortress, Amish shed was delivered I posted a picture of it on Facebook.  That picture of my new Amish shed generated more comments than anything I've ever said or posted on Facebook in the last four years. Either I'm a boring Facebooker or you're diggin' some Amish action too. 

So why do we all love the Amish so much? Is it their stylish black outfits? They say black is very slimming. Have you ever seen a fat Amish person? Me neither. I wonder what their gyms are like? Instead of a stairmaster maybe they have a butter churn machine. The guys work out by bench pressing 4"x4" lumber with hay bales on the ends. Do they work out in those sack dresses and the pants with suspenders? Do those come in lycra? 

Another good thing about being Amish; their budget kicks ass. Guess how much money the Amish lost in their 401K's when the economy tanked? A lot less than me, that's for sure. You think the Amish worry about how they'll pay for retirement? Do you know how much they pay for electricity? $0.00. That's pretty damn good compared with my utility bill. And guess how much they pay for gas? Yup, $0.00. Unfortunately, the gas they're most familiar is in the form of methane coming from the horse in front of them pulling their buggy. 

Rumspringa. It's the Amish word for a period of adolescence when youth are allowed to leave home for a period of time to experience the modern world and decide if they want to return to the Amish faith. Talk about an awesome hall pass! It's a wonder they get any of them back. As a parent I love the idea. I'd love to get my kids out of the house for a year or two. In fact, I want to negotiate with the Amish for a reverse rumspringa program. When my kids are being difficult I want to send them to live with the Amish for a year. Building a few barns would straighten out their attitude. 

I fear however that Amish culture as we know it may soon cease to exist and I fear that it may be my fault. I accidentally exposed the Amish to the cartoon Family Guy. The Amish are allowed to use technology for work but not in their homes. The Amish shed maker had to call me to tell me when my shed was going to be delivered and my ringback tone is a clip from Family Guy. At the end of our brief conversation Amish shed maker said, "I like your ringtone." Since then I've gotten 27 hang up calls from an unlisted number. I just hear a little oddly accented giggling before the line goes dead. I'm pretty sure it's the Amish calling just to listen to Family Guy. This can't be good.

If you enjoy my nonsense and want to have a literary rumspringa with me you can follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle. Unless of course you're Amish. 

 

Sport or Not a Sport? That is the question

As a "guy" there are few things more enjoyable than having an afternoon free to plant yourself in the Lazy-boy and click on ESPN for a few hours of sports viewing. The average guy is about as picky about what sports he will watch as he is about what women he will date. For a guy though there are few things more disappointing than clicking on ESPN and finding something on that's not a sport. We all know what I'm talking about. I would like to propose rules for what qualifies as a sport. Anything that does not qualify under my rules should be broadcast on a different network. Maybe the Game Show Channel or The Loser Network. 

Rule #1: It's not a sport if one of the  participants has no idea they are competing. Examples: horse racing, hunting, fishing, dog racing and dog shows. These animals are just jumping through hoops to get some sort of treat at the end. Who gets the prize money and trophies? Hunting is only a sport if the animals are shooting back.

Rule #2: It's not a sport unless there's a final score everyone agrees upon. Current "sports" that should be ruled out: Gymnastics, diving, and any kind of figure skating. Special mention goes to rhythmic gymnastics which is just gymnastics for people who are afraid of heights.

Rule #3: It's not a sport if you can do it while you sit down drinking beer and smoking. That rules out poker, Scrabble, bowling and spelling bees. Technically it also eliminates NASCAR.

I'm sure those of you from Australia, Europe and other countries could probably come up with several examples of things in your country that are played as sports, but really aren't. Of course in the U.S. it's not  a sport unless it's played in our country.

If you enjoy my nonsense and want to practice the sport of Phil hunting you can follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle.

 

I Predict A Riot

It seems that jolly, old England isn't so jolly these days. Last week, apparently triggered by the shooting of a civilian by Scotland Yard, it seems that everyone in London put down their tea and crumpets to participate in widespread rioting and looting. The English it seems are a little skittish about gunfire (see American revolution circa 1776). 

Really? Scotland Yard shot someone? I had no idea they did that. Don't you just picture Scotland Yard being a bunch of Sherlock Holmes looking guys smoking pipes and saying things like "pip pip" and "cheerio"? Apparently the people of London had no idea that Scotland Yard was into shooting people either, so the Londoners expressed their displeasure by rioting and looting, which then had to be dealt with by the London police, or constables as they're called, who generally don't carry guns. There's your problem right there. You can't name your police 'constables'. No one is going to worry about getting roughed up by a "constable." The English need to name their police something scary like Robocops or Dementors. 

Rather than dealing with the rioters the American way, by shooting them with bullets, the English police shot them with cameras and put them on the news. They were surprised by what they found. Some of the rioters were not young thugs but some very normal, previously upstanding citizens who, apparently emboldened by the anonymity of the crowds, decided to join in the fun. An 11 year old ballerina, a 43 year old organic chef, an opera house steward, an Olympic Ambassador and many women were identified in the London police's camera sweep. So essentially the London "constables" were relegated to tourist like photo taking to try to stop the rioting. 

What could possibly possess some of these people to join in rioting and looting? No matter what is going on in my neighborhood  I've never thought to myself , "On the way home from work should I stop by the pub for some bangers and mash or should I heave a brick at the nearest store window?  Did the 11 year old ballerina skip down to the playground with her friends and come home with a new 42" flat screen telly she pulled from a broken store window?

I'm not a member of the NRA or anything, but I think the English 'constables', in addition to getting a new threatening name, need to start carrying guns. Without weapons, what do the English police do when confronted with an angry mob? I'm no law enforcement expert, but I'm pretty sure that yelling "Hey! Stop that!" is not all that intimidating, especially when yelled with an English accent. If you've got ballerina rioters I'm pretty sure that if you fire off a warning shot or two they'll pirouette home to their mum pretty damn fast. Since England has by and large gone so long without armed police, I think that at the first sign of trouble if the constables climb to the top of Big Ben and just let loose a round of semi-automatic gunfire in the air most of those rioters won't think it's such a jolly good show anymore and run their blimey arses home to Hogwarts to feed their owls. (Yes, all my knowledge of English culture comes from the Harry Potter movies) Outside of Hurricane Katrina conditions, have you ever seen riots last a week in the United States? Of course not! We'd get shot by police and that would be bad. 

If you enjoy my nonsense, instead of rioting you can peacefully protest by following me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or by subscribing to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle. Also, if you can name the musical reference I used in the title you win 20 Phil bucks which can be redeemed at The Phil Factor gift shop for a t-shirt. Cheerio!

 

The Guy Code of Conduct Chapter 6: The Female Pop Quiz

In millions of every day situations men are being tested and graded as if we are still in school. The Female Pop Quiz can consist of one question, several questions, or a situation. The results of these spontaneous daily exams can make or break a young relationship, or just make your life difficult for a day, a week, or even more in a long term relationship or marriage. The trick is, if you pass the quiz you never know it and if you fail it justice is usually swift and brutal. Sometimes men are smart enough to recognize when these pop quizzes have come up and at other times we are not. It is these time where potential disaster looms. Here for the are some of the most common Female Pop Quizzes and how to answer them correctly.

1. Does this make me look fat?  This is the most common and stereotypical of the pop quiz questions and almost all men recognize it, but some still answer incorrectly. An answer of  "No baby, that doesn't make you look fat. I love your curves," seems well intentioned and some men even accentuate the statement with a playful pat on the behind. This answer is a mistake. The inevitable answer from the woman will be, "What? I have curves?!!? So you're saying I'm fat?" A safe answer would be, "Honey, nothing could ever make you look fat. You are the sexiest woman I've ever met. If anything that outfit makes you look too thin."

2. The Dinner Reaction: After a woman has cooked a wonderful meal from scratch the male impulse is to just dig in and enjoy. As men we think that the act of eating every scrap and then licking the plate clean is enough of an indication of our love of the food. That gentlemen, is absolutely the wrong assumption. This situation is a Female Pop Quiz. If you are not yet married and a woman cooks you a meal, she is essentially testing you to see how you might possibly respond to your evening dinner every night for the rest of your lives. If you want anything long term with this woman you will not just dig and  then finish with an appreciative belch. After asking if there is anything you can do to help, such as set the table, the appropriate response is to first comment on how delicious everything looks and smells. Even if it looks like roadkill. Then after your first bite fake a complete mouthgasm as if you had just eaten food blessed by the gods. Even if she just gave you three day old dry toast this is the proper response. A corollary to this rule is that if a woman has cooked not only for you, but for company, you must absolutely be the first person to compliment her cooking in front of everyone.

3. The "Comment on Other Women" pop quiz. This is always a complicated situation that requires some expert verbal maneuvering to extricate yourself from without pain. If your female companion spots another woman on television or when you're out in public and makes a comment on that woman you are immediately on the hot seat. If your gal knows and dislikes the other woman due to a personal conflict no matter how far in the distant past it is in your best interest to listen attentively to her complaint, and then agree, even if you've just realized that your gal pal is completely wrong in the situation. If the situation is on the looks or behavior of a stranger then you have a bit more leeway. If your companion comments upon another woman's looks or attire be very careful. This is a very dangerous trap. Needless to say though if it's about large, fake boobs, remember, no matter what, we all hate them right? Practice saying it in front of the mirror with a straight face at least a few times a day until you've got it down pat. Now if your girlfriend, fiance', or wife makes a negative comment about a woman, it may be in your best interest to give a fairly ambiguous answer, or even an "oh, she doesn't seem that bad," response. If you come off as too catty yourself, or too prone to degrade another woman, even in a private conversation, this will reflect badly on her perception of your respect for women.

Obviously this chapter contains more material, but if I give away all of it the delicate balance of male-female communication may be forever altered, and it might cut into the book sales. Stay tuned for Chapter 7: What To Say about Mothers.

If you enjoy my nonsense and want a happy, long term relationship with me you can follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle.

 

Cult of Personality?

"Neon lights, a Nobel prize. The mirror speaks, the reflection lies. You don't have to follow me. Only you can set me free. I sell the things you need to be. I'm the smiling face on your t.v. I'm the cult of personality. I exploit, you still love me." ~Living Colour 1989

Cults get a bad rap. Just because of a few bad apples (I'm talking to you Mr. Jones and Mr. Koresh) the word cult has a negative connotation. Dictionary.com defines a cult as "an instance of great veneration of a person, ideal, or thing, especially as manifested by a body of admirers." Yeah, that's right,  I did some research. See? I'm not just making stuff up here. This blog is actually education. In fact if you read every post for the next 12 months I'm pretty sure you get college credit. Here's another little tidbit for you: do you know who came up with the phrase "cult of personality"? Russian dictator Nikita Krushchev in 1956. I didn't even know he was a member of Living Colour!

A lot of us have a knee jerk reaction to the word 'cult' but I maintain that regardless of the feelings that word causes, we are all members of cults. Whether it be a popular singer, t.v. show, product or Facebook, we all sign up for cults. Admittedly, my cult of choice is fantasy football. Yes, I'm one of those guys. But don't mock me, I would bet my first round draft pick that you belong to a cult too, and maybe one even dorkier than fantasy football. And that's the thing, we all see everyone else's cult for what it is, but we never see our own. And yes, there are things dorkier than fantasy football. American Idol?!!? Are you freaking kidding me?

Yes, American Idol is a cult. How many people spend more time watching and thinking about American Idol than they spend on traditional religion? I think we ought to elect our next President American Idol style. Week by week eliminations until the winner is announced on live t.v. Why not? It would get more people involved in the political process if they could participate via television and cell phone. Romney and Obama would have no shot at beating out my obvious charm. And I would look really tall standing next to Ryan Seacrest. 

How about Apple? Not the fruit, the technology company. The fruit needs a p.r. team, but the company may be the best cult going. Since the iPod was invented how many of us even consider an mp3 player made by anyone else? Seriously, what the hell is a Zune? Apple is such a good cult that I stopped in the middle of this to go download a song. (Fader by Temper Trap) Steven Jobs big calculator that he keeps on the table by his bed just went "cha-ching!" In fact, if not for iPods and iPads who would know who Steven Jobs was? (There you go Steve, I mentioned you and your products, now please send me an iTunes card)

And yes, I know fantasy football is a cult. But it's a really good one! I swear there's nothing bad about the time and money I spend on it. Sure, I'm adult and I spend more time studying for my fantasy draft every year than I did for the once in a lifetime S.A.T. or grad school entrance exams, but that's healthy right? And the results speak for themselves. League champ two of the last three years. I wonder why employers don't seem more impressed by that on my resume?

Facebook may be the biggest cult going. And have you noticed that cults whether religious or commercial seem to be started by, for lack of a better word, nerds? Whoever said, "The meek shall inherit the Earth" was obviously brilliant. He must have had a great cult.

If you enjoy my nonsense and want to join another cult you can subscribe to me on your Amazon Kindle (another cult I belong to) and follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor. See you at the intervention!

 

The Modern Worry Stone

Worry stones are smooth, polished gemstones usually in the shape of an oval with a thumb-sized indentation. They originated in Ancient Greece. Held between the index finger and thumb, rubbing them is believed to lessen one's worries. This action is a type of stimulation which can often create feelings of calmness and reduce stress levels.

Of course the ancient Greeks needed worry stones. They were constantly stressing about getting lost in the giant mazes and attacked by Minotaurs, or perhaps getting lured to their death on the rocks by the beautiful Sirens that sang to them on their commute to work. Then, if you were a guy, you had to constantly be on the lookout for one up the Gods coming down from Mount Olympus and trying to impregnate your girlfriend. It wasn't the Gods fault. I mean, seriously, there were only about 12 of them. That's like going to a high school with only 20 kids in your graduating class. Occasionally you're going to have to date a freshman. Or even worse, you hook up with a cougar (hot older woman) and she turns out to be your mom. Bottom line, ancient Greece was a stressful place and some crazy old crackpot with an impossibly long name that ends in "ates" decided that rubbing a stone with your thumb would relax everybody. It was the ancient version of the pet rock. I'm pretty sure it was advertised in the Parthenon by the Sham Wow guy.

I propose that we as a culture have unkowingly created our own high tech version of the worry stone. The cell phone. What decreases worries more than communication? Our cell phones are our links to the entire world by call, text, I.M., and the internet. If we have a question, somehow, some way there is an answer in that little ball of technology we hold in our hand. And don't we often just hold it, perhaps looking at it, feeling the weight of it and the smooth curves of it in our palm, reassured knowing that because of that little device we are never truly alone? Who amongst us hasn't felt lost, or naked when we discover we've left home without our little electronic security blanket?Unless of course the battery dies, you can't get a signal, or you've lost your charging cord. That's when Zeus comes down from Mount Olympus and offers to charge it for you with one of his lightning bolts in exchange for sex.

If you enjoy my nonsense feel free to subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle and you can also follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor. Just download the Kindle and Twitter apps to your cell phone so you'll never be without me!

 

The Guy Code of Conduct: Public Restroom Etiquette

As is well known, women have the “never go to a public restroom alone” rule. Women also have several other rules devoted to their bathroom habits, but to imply that I know them would say something bad about me. I’m not sure what, but I’m pretty sure it's not good. Despite what women believe, men are not complete barbarians. There are some rules we live by when it comes time to answer the call of nature. In fact, The Guy Code of Conduct has an entire chapter devoted entirely to how, when, and where men eliminate metabolic waste. Here are some of those rules:

1. If you are intoxicated and it is after dark, it is entirely acceptable to urinate anywhere outdoors, just look out for other men who also might be out there urinating in the dark.

2. In a public restroom never use the urinal immediately next to another man if it is possible to go elsewhere, like two urinals down the row, in a stall, or in the sink. Whenever possible you must attempt to keep a three foot buffer zone between you and other urinating men. 

3. In a public restroom never use the urinal next to another man unless there is at least one of those little dividers. If there is no divider and the stalls or sinks are full, just wait your turn. 

4. If you are using a urinal immediately next to another man just stare straight ahead and do not speak. 

5. Speaking while urinating is allowed under only two circumstances: a)if two men are peeing outside and there is an appropriate buffer zone between them, or b) if two men are using urinals and there is a divider and one empty urinal between them.

6. Things you should never pee on: the fire, electric fences, other men, women, your food.  (This rule was first written by two cavemen named Ed and Thog during the Jurassic period and originally only included the reference to the fire.  Over the years through trial and error the list was expanded to include the other items.)

There is also an index in the back of The Guy Code of Conduct which includes world records involving urination, such as distance, from the greatest height, volume, off of famous landmarks etc.

As always, if you enjoy my nonsense you can follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle. Whatever you do though, don't approach me for an autograph while I'm peeing.

 

Death: The Final Frontier

In the movie "When Harry Met Sally," Harry and Sally were talking on the phone when Sally burst into tears because she was going to turn 40. Harry replied, "But that's not for years." To which Sally tearfully replied, "Yeah, but it's out there."  

Death has me concerned. There is a whole sector of the population that keeps insisting that death is 'out there' for everyone. Some people keep insisting that it might even happen to me someday. I'm not a big fan of death. I hate when it happens to people I know and I'm even less enthusiastic about the idea that it might happen to me. There's a tiny, tiny part in the back of my brain, one particular brain cell perhaps, that keeps trying to speak up and tell me that some day I may even die. Fortunately all the other brain cells called a meeting and decided to shout down this one rebel cell whenever it decides to open it's big, fat piehole.

I've decided to try a different approach to death. Well, a different approach to my potential death. Death is fine for other people, but I'm just not going to do it. The way I look at it is this: Death has never happened to me before, so where is the proof that it's going to happen to me? I've successfully made it past age 27, so I'm not even eligible for that club anymore.  Just because mankind had never successfully flown before the Wright brothers, they didn't just give up and stay on the ground did they? I think too many people give in to the myth that is death. Think about it. When you were a kid and you stopped believing in Santa Claus, he stopped existing for you didn't he? Well, has anyone ever decided not to believe in death? That's my plan. Like I said, it's never happened to me, so I have no proof that it will. 

Lucky for you, my impending lack of fatality means that I'll keep blogging, so feel free to follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle for all eternity. Just remember to put it in your will that your Phil Factor subscription must be maintained for generations after you pass. 

 

Jesus of Suburbia

Well, it happened again. God spoke to someone through the image of Jesus Christ on a receipt from a South Carolina Walmart. Oh wait, that's never happened before. Apparently Gentry Lee Sutherland and her fiancee' Jacob Simmons (yes, her name is 'Gentry Lee'. If that isn't a sign her parents worshipped Satan I don't know what is) picked up a few things at Walmart, left the receipt on their kitchen table and a few days later when they looked at the receipt the image of Jesus Christ was on the receipt. Then again, take a look at that picture, how can we be sure that's not Osama Bin Laden or Ted Nugent speaking to us through the receipt? And if it is Ted Nugent, I'm curious about what he has to say. He hasn't put out an album in like forever!

I've got to give credit to whomever is speaking through the Walmart receipt. Apparently they've given up the age-old, tried and true method of speaking to their followers by placing their image on toast, pancakes, potato chips, or a water stain on a wall. Think about it; if you are an omnipotent deity with cosmic powers, are you going to screw around putting your likeness on something that by chance could fall into the hands or mouth of an atheist at a pub who looks at his cheese doodle and says, "Oh look Ted, it looks like a face in my cheese doodle, crunch, crunch, crunch. Hey bartender, we're out of cheese doodles over here." 

If God is an omnipotent deity with cosmic powers and does want to speak to his or her followers (See? I put his or her. Look how enlightened I am. I hear the chicks dig that),  why wouldn't he or she send us all a text message? I'm pretty sure that omnipotence includes mastery of modern technology. Or perhaps take over cable t.v.? "Hi everyone, this is God here. I'd like to interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for this important message..."

When I'm a deity I'm not going to waste my time putting my face in snack foods or receipts. People will wake up one day and suddenly there will be an extra head on Mt. Rushmore, or the Eiffel Tower will be bent into the shape of my profile. That's how you get the word out that you're the guy to worship. Either these snack food/receipt  Gods aren't very bright, or the people who see them are just seeing what they want to see. And if putting your face in people's food is the way Gods go about getting publicity, why doesn't anyone claim to see Satan in their Corn Flakes? If Coke is running a big add campaign you can bet Pepsi will counter it. Satan needs to get off his fiery, red ass and get to work. He's losing customers. Then again, how many of you women have eaten a whole pint of Ben & Jerry's while watching a Lifetime movie on a lonely Saturday night and said, "The devil made me do it"?

If you get the reference in the title of this post and explain it in a comment below you win 10,000 Phil Factor points that can be redeemed for a t-shirt at The Phil Factor gift shop. If you enjoy my nonsense follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle so that you can say "I knew him before he started showing up on people's receipts and potato chips."

The Present Tense

How we communicate, what's important to us, and the inequities of societal grooming expectations are all ways men and women differ. Another great divide between the sexes is our views on presents. Anniversaries, birthdays, Valentine's Day, and Christmas can all make or break a relationship from a woman's perspective. My current quandary is Mrs. Phil's birthday is coming up in a couple weeks and I have the pressure of choosing a present.  My problem is that I think of presents like a guy and she thinks of presents like a woman. Here are a few examples of how men and women might view the same present differently and why I'm terrified of choosing and may just give her cash:

Example 1
Guy: “Happy Anniversary honey! Here's a card, a dozen roses, and I've taken out a second mortgage so I can fly you to Paris for a candlelight dinner on top of the Eiffel Tower!”
Woman: “You are so sweet! With all my work this week I didn't have time to get you a present. I'm sorry. How about if I make it up to you (wink, wink) back at the hotel after dinner?” (sly smile)
Guy: “YAHTZEE!” (fist pump)

Example 2:
Woman: “Happy Anniversary honey! Here's a card and a present!”
Guy: “An Ipad3! Thanks baby, this is great! With all my work this week I didn't have time to get you a present. I'm sorry. How about if I make it up to you (wink, wink) in the bedroom tonight?” (sly smile)
Woman: “You forgot! How could you be so thoughtless?!!? You can sleep on the couch tonight! (storms out, door slams)

(Calm down all you tech geeks, the IPad 3 isn't out yet) Sometimes even the presents themselves can mean different things to men and women. Here are some examples of presents men might give, how we mean them, and what they mean to women.

1. A romantic card with breakfast in bed, flowers sent to your work, and a nice dinner out.
What men are trying to say: "Will you sleep with me?"
What women think: "He's a sweet, thoughtful guy."

2. A safety kit for your car with road flares, tools, and a shovel.
What men are trying to say: "I love you and I want you to be safe."
What women think: "What a thoughtless, un-romantic oaf."

3. Lingerie
What men are trying to say: "I think you are a beautiful, sexy woman."
What women think: "That selfish bastard is thinking with his little head instead of his big head."

4. Any kind of home appliance
What men are trying to say: "I've noticed how hard you work. I want to make your life easier."
What women think: "If this isn't grounds for justifiable homicide, I don't know what is!"

All of this thinking out loud isn't getting me any closer to choosing a present. If you've got any suggestions I'd love to hear them in the comments section below. If you enjoy my nonsense follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to my blog on your Amazon Kindle so you never miss an issue and so I can afford to buy my wife a birthday present that compensates her adequately for being married to me.

A Simple Solution to the Governments Debt Problem

Remember when you were a kid and your parents, with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, would tell you "Do as I say, not as I do" Maybe that was just my parents, but you get the jist. Very often parents and other authority figures are hypocrites, including the U.S. government. Apparently our government has gotten itself in a bit of a pickle. They must have missed those catchy freecreditreport.com commercials because they've almost reached their credit limit. Unless they do some voodoo lawmaking magic our government could default on their loans in the next couple weeks.  Really, how can the government default on their loans? Didn't they read that section on the statement that says it will take you 27 years to pay it off if you only pay the minimum? They should have chosen the 3 year amount. 

Dear President Obama, why is this a big deal? You are the United States of America! Who cares if you pay your loans back? Really, is there any chance that Tony Soprano is going to show up at the back door of the White House and break your kneecaps Kerrigan-style? Who exactly is asking us to pay these loans back right now? We are the world's bully. Nobody takes our lunch money!

Why can't Barack just call up Visa, Mastercard or Germany and ask them to increase the credit limit? It's what I would do. Wouldn't you? Maybe even ask for the same APR and 0% interest the new customers get until 2012. How can the IRS demand we pay our back taxes if they're not doing the same?  Or here's an idea, how about just print up some new money to pay those loans back? "Oh no that would cause inflation!" Really? How would printing new money cause inflation, especially if you don't tell anyone you printed the extra money? Especially don't tell Ben Bernanke. That guy is just a pain in all our asses with his interest rate roller coaster that nobody can understand. Maybe the government can write a check and just post date it until they have the money? Or just forget to to sign the check to buy some time.  This is just the kind of out of the box thinking I'll implement when I'm elected President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first. Although if the government can't sort this out before then maybe we'll see our congressman in pirate costumes working at restaurants like the guy in the freecreditreport.com commercial. Of course lately it would be nice to see our congressmen with any kind of shirt on. 

I just want to give a little shout out to Barack, since I know Michelle subscribes to my blog on her Kindle. Look Barack, since I'm just rolling in dough from all the new subscribers I have through Kindle I'd be happy to float you a little short term loan at reasonable interest rates until you and the government can get back on your feet again. Just leave me a message in the comments section below and I'll get back to you. 

If you enjoy my nonsense feel free to follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe on your Amazon Kindle, just like Michelle Obama, so you'll never miss a column.

The Point Is Probably Moot. Or Is It?

"No, I'm pretty sure it's not a mute point. If it were a mute point you wouldn't be saying it aloud to me right now would you?" Is what I wanted to say. I also wanted to say, "And don't you hate when all those mimes act like they're moot when they can't get out of their invisible box?" 

Is it really that tough? C'mon people! They are two distinctly different words with different spellings, meanings, and pronunciations! And I'm not talking about people with limited education! On and on it goes. Everyday some person in a position of authority, or esteem, or which requires higher education uses one of those words incorrectly! Of course when I am interacting with these people in a professional capacity I cannot shout my frustration about their idiocy. In those situations I choose to pretend I have selective mootism. See?!!? See how stupid it looks when someone uses them oppositely? Reluctantly I have to admit that probably the only reason I know the difference is that in 1982 Rick Springfield told us all that "the point is probably moot." And that, sadly, is information that maybe I should have kept mute about. 

When I become President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first, I am going to pass a law allowing everyone to make a Citizen's Arrest of anyone who confuses these two words. Much like bad drivers who are ordered to attend a defensive driving class, the moot/mute people will have to go to a special class to learn the difference between these and other homonyms. I only hope that when these dolts are in class they remain moot so everyone can hear what the instructor is saying.

On a marginally related point, The band Mute Math is really very good. I enjoy them immensely and highly recommend them. I wonder how their career might have turned out differently if they were Moot Math? If you looked at my high school transcript you'd see that math was a pretty mute subject for me. In fact you could say that my grades would imply that the instructors might have been moot. Or is that mute?  "And she's watchin' him with those eyes..." Now you'll have that song stuck in your head all day won't you? You're welcome.

If you enjoy my nonesense feel free to follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor and now you can subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle so you'll never miss one no matter where you are.

 

Little City, Big Dreams

These little town blues, are melting away

I’m gonna make a brand new start of it - in old New York

And if i can make it there, i’m gonna make it anywhere

It's up to you - New York, New York

Frank Sinatra

I live in New York, but I don't live in New York City. I realize that for many people outside of New York state it's news that New York City isn't the entirety of New York. For those of you not familiar with our geography, New York is a fairly big state with several other medium sized cities. . Perhaps it's because of New York City that the other cities in the state have an inferiority complex. My city wants to be big and wants to have big, important things happen here. We grasp desperately to any straw of fame that one of our natives achieves. Nowhere is this inferiority complex more evident than on the local news.

Male Local News Anchor: Good evening. I'm Dirk Hairpiece and this is Eyewitness News!

Female Local News Anchor: And I'm Buffy Sleptmywayhere. What are tonight's top stories Dirk?

Dirk: In New York City today a subway train went off the tracks and careened wildly down Wall St. before coming to rest on top of the Statue of Liberty. 147 people were killed. Let's go to field reporter Skippy Trenchcoat for a live interview. Skippy?

Skippy: I'm here in our town, about a block away from the studio in the home of Dolores Hairnet who says that her cousin's friend's brother's high school classmate once rode the very same subway train responsible for today's tragedy. Dolores, can you tell us about your experience?

Dolores: Well, Eddie, that's my cousin's friend's brother's high school classmate, said it was like a train, but it goes underground in them there tunnel things.

Skippy: Did Eddie notice anything suspicious about the train?

Dolores: He said it smelled funny. Kinda like how your garbage can smells on a hot summer day when you left meat in it and the maggots start to grow.

Skippy: Well there you have it Dirk and Buffy. The train ride stunk from the beginning. 

Dirk in studio: Thank you Skippy. Speaking of something that stinks, let's go to weather girl Sunny Implants broadcasting live from the elephant cage at the zoo.

If you enjoy my nonsense follow me on Twitter  @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon KIndle

 

A Shameless Plug for Me

If any of you are Amazon Kindle owners you can now subscribe to my blog on your Kindle and have it delivered wirelessly to you anywhere you are with your Kindle. Yes, I know you can read it for free here, but nothing beats the portability of a Kindle and being able to read and share my brilliance with friends anywhere you might be. Just go to the Kindle Store, click on blogs and type The Phil Factor into to search box.

The Man with the Scorpion Tattoo

No, this is not a male version of the popular novel The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. This is much better than that. It's my blog where I make fun of stuff. I'm pretty sure nobody had very many laughs reading that dragon tattoo book. The Man with the Scorpion Tattoo also is not a fictional character. The Man with the Scorpion Tattoo is a guy I see at my Starbuck's almost every morning. To be fair, it's not really my Starbucks. I am neither owner nor manager, but The Man with the Scorpion Tattoo still shows up there regularly regardless of my lack of affiliation with the place. 

The Man with the Scorpion Tattoo is bald. Not old man, male pattern baldness bald, but "I shaved my head so I can look like a bad ass bald."  The Man with the Scorpion Tattoo also has a giant scorpion tattooed on his bald head. A scorpion tattoo that is much larger than any real scorpion. The tattoo stretches from the top of his head, wrapping around the back and down to the top of the neck. Each morning I wonder, what exactly is he trying to tell the world about himself? 

Evil. I think having a giant scorpion tattooed on a menacing bald head kind of screams evil. My shamrock tattoo says I'm Irish. His scorpion tattoo says evil. In fact after observing The Man with the Scorpion Tattoo daily for awhile now, I'm pretty sure he is actually Satan. Yup, the real one. Apparently, just like you and me, Satan stops for his Starbucks fix on his way to work every day. Coffee black of course. None of those frou frou girly drinks with whipped cream.  He keeps to himself and goes about his business quietly while at Starbucks, but just the same, I'm pretty sure he's Satan. He makes small talk with the baristas so as not to arouse any suspicion. He tips, but never too much or too little. He always sits alone at the table by the window. 

I suppose it's possible right? I mean, Satan has a job to do every day doesn't he? If he didn't show up for work each day encouraging evil, imagine all the police officers, military, and jail staff that would be out of work. Without evil our economy suffers. So like the rest of us, Satans day begins when his alarm goes off. Because he's evil, he hits snooze. Twice. Then I imagine Satan walking his dog clad in pajama pants and a Motley Crue reunion tour t-shirt. Obviously, he doesn't pick up the poop in a little bag because of his inherent evil nature. Unlike me,  Satan never bothers to iron his shirt for work either. Before leaving for work he grabs his bagged lunch, grumbling over the low carb kick his wife is on, and gives Mrs. Satan a little kiss and let's her know if he'll be home late because there's a need for a little extra unrest in the middle east. Then he hops in the Satan mobile (you would think a red car, but he thinks that's too flashy and goes with black. Tinted windows of course. Maybe a Mustang.) Then he stops at Starbuck's to have his coffee and go over his schedule, all the while making a mental note that when he gets some extra time he'll have to perpetrate some evil on that guy in the suit who stares at him every morning.  

Remember the 1995 Joan Osborne song, "What if God Were One of Us?"  If God could be one of us, so could Satan. And if Satan had a name, I imagine it wouldn't be any of those fancy biblical names like Beezlebub or Lucifer. Seriously, how much of a give away would that be? He'd be constantantly hounded by fans and papparazzi. No, I'm pretty sure that if Satan has a name it's something like Ed. And yes Ms. Osborne, I would call him Ed to his face. I wonder if Ed has a blog...If he does, I'm pretty sure he gets more reads than the 16 I got last week because his friends go back to their Facebook page and click on the "Share" button. C'mon people, we can't let evil win!  

 

 

The Mormons Got It Goin' On!

Cue music. Footage of attractive person kayaking, teaching classes, winning Olympic medals, raising a family, and ziplining across the Grand Canyon while wearing a lab coat and holding test tubes. Voice over begins, "Hi, I teach orphans in the Congo and work on a cure for cancer in my spare time. But when I'm not teaching I like to explore Brazil on safari in between training for the Olympic decathalon and winning ballroom dance competitions. I've got a million dollars in the bank and at the end of a long day I go home to my solar powered, eco-friendly home that I built with my bare hands and I spend quality time with my spouse and equally good looking kids who get straight A's in school and are on all the sports teams. My life is better than yours, and I'm a Mormon."  

We've all seen the commercials and damned if it isn't working. Who wouldn't want to sign up for that deal? When can I start? And the evidence is there that the Mormons are smart. Do you see any other religions advertising? I grew up Catholic. What would their advertising slogan be? "Don't feel bad enough yet? Join Catholicism! Where nothing you do is ever good enough and bingo is our only acceptable fun."  How about the Jewish religion? You don't see them advertising. "Welcome to Judaism. We've got bad beards, hats to cover your bald spots and holidays no one understands!" Then there's the Amish. Now there's a religion that needs a better motto than, "Stay away from electricity, zippers and colors of any kind." I can write anything I want about the Amish because I'm pretty sure they're not reading my blog and I can beat any of them in a fight. Again.

See? Other religions just lay about letting people believe the stereotypes. The Mormons went out and did something about their bad press. And they're not done yet. Our next President, if it's not me, could be famous Mormon Mitt Romney. I think at some point in the last ten years Mitt thought to himself, "Hell, if somebody named Barack can get a nomination, why can't I? Mitt isn't that bad of a name. I'm a Mormon dammit! Haven't you seen our commercials?" Yes, I've tried to talk to Mitt about his salty language, but to no avail. And can you imagine how much more popular the Mormons would be if I joined? I could be blogging and Facebooking about all the wild adventures Mittt and I would have. More free advertising for them. Yup,  I'm surprised they're not yet recruiting me personally. I'd better stay home today just in case they come by with an offer. 

The People at the Gym

I belong to a gym. You might not  know it by looking at me, but I do. My gym is part of a big, national chain. I think there must be some sort of law that was passed, undoubtedly by congress, that states that the more popular a gym is, the louder the music has to be. In fact, if you were to notice only the music and people on cell phones you'd think you were out at a club. I'll be damned if I can find someone to give my a beer though. That's why I fill my water bottle with beer before I go.

There are several different categories of people that go to a gym. I think that the smallest number belong to the group of normal people who go to the gym a few times a week just to stay in decent shape. That's the group I'm in. The next group are the what I call "The Bicep Bunch." Just imagine the theme song, "The Bicep Bunch, the Bicep Bunch, that's the way we became the Bicep Bunch!" There would be the t.v. screen full of the little picture squares, except instead of looking at each other and smiling they would all be looking at their flexing biceps and smiling.  The Bicep Bunch has a uniform too. It consists of work boots, denim jeans and a black muscle shirt. They literally walk around the gym in groups of several guys in this identical outfit. I call them the Bicep Bunch because they're only interested in working out their upper body in hopes of impressing women. Not that impressing women is a bad goal. For most of these guys though, their bodies are disproportionate. They spend so much time on their upper body and none on their lower body that they just have little stick-like legs. I imagine in a fight they'd be pretty easy to take out if you just "sweep the leg Daniel" they'd fall on their back and like a turtle be stuck that way with their little legs flailing helplessly in the air until the rest of the Bicep Bunch flipped them over.

Then there are the "Three-weekers." I call them this because they probably won't use their membership for more than three weeks before they realize that exercise is hard work and they give up, never to be seen at the gym again. You can always spot one of the three-weekers because they are so clueless about exercise that they actually accept the complimentary session with the personal trainer so they can learn how to use the equipment.

A group of gym members I hate are the Locker Room Nudists. These are the people who are obviously way too comfortable with their bodies. For God's sake, put on a towel when you walk from the shower back to your locker! And do not, under any circumstances, talk to ME while you are naked. We're not that intimate!

Then, there are the "women" at the gym. Some of them scare me. When women start doing things like wearing weight belts and bench pressing, doing pull-ups, and curls, I get a little scared about getting too close. I want no part of a pre-menstrual woman who has more muscle mass than me. That is not a safe combination.

As is any other place in society these days, the gym is also full of Cell Phone People. I have no freakin' idea how they can even hear anyone on their cell phones over the din of the music. The only exercise these people are getting is exercising their mouths. I'm sure they can't do real exercise because they're so winded from talking. It's always a temptation to drop a big weight on these dopes. Not that I'm carrying big weights, but maybe I could persude one of the Bicep Bunch to do it for me because after taking out their leader Karate Kid style I am now their king.

Where's My Ribbon Magnet?

Every cause, disease, disorder and affliction in existence seems to have a ribbon magnet. There are so many support ribbon magnets that I think they've become de-valued. You can support our troops, schleroderma, autism, and your favorite football team with a ribbon magnet for your car. If you can find a left handed, autistic, football player from West Point who has bad skin  you can probably buy enough magnet ribbons to put a ring of them all the way around your car.  I am in fact thinking of creating a ribbon magnet for people who feel left out because they have no reason to have a ribbon magnet. 

Admittedly I don't have a single ribbon magnet on my car. But I believe that I deserve several ribbon magnets. We all have our crosses to bear. I'm color blind. Where's my ribbon magnet? Do you know how difficult it is to play Uno when you're blue/green colorblind? Don't even get me started on telling the difference between the blue and green highway signs. Of course if there were a ribbon magnet for colorblindness I couldn't buy it because I'd have no freaking idea what color it is. 

Lactose intolerance. Yup, got it. Searched the internet. Not a single ribbon magnet to be found for those of us that can't digest milk. This may possibly be my biggest handicap. For my entire life I have been deprived the joy of  enjoying a Shamorock Shake. And I'm Irish! If not a ribbon magnet, there's got to be a 5k for this. Seriously. And why is it that running 5k cures diseases? Why don't we just have preventive 5k runs. If we all run a few 5k runs every year I think we'd be immunized from all the diseases we need ribbon magnets for. 

Tendonititis. Yup, another affliction I suffer from that lacks a ribbon magnet. Since I turned 30 I can't engage in any strenuous activity without pain in some joint. There's got to be a ribbon magnet for that, or at least some sort of temorary handicapped parking I can get. In fact, irony of all ironies, the tendonitis prevents me from running the 5k that would cure my tendonitis. Will you run one for me? Actually, while you're at it, could you run 6 or 7k. I think that would cure it faster than a measly 5k. And make sure you wear a t-shirt that says  "In Memory of Phil's Ankles." Make sure the t-shirt is half blue and half green, just to cover all our bases.

Vote Phil For President

That's right. I'm running for President and I need your help. Common sense will be our battle cry and the internet will be our weapon. Join me and together we can make the world a place where men and women everywhere are safe  from being e-mailed, Facebooked, or Twittered naked or semi-naked pictures of our public servants.

I live in the state of New York. Over the past 5 years our state Attorney General spent thousands of taxpayer dollars on a call girl, a state assemblyman left his job after a scandal where he admitted to "tickling" one of his staffers, then earlier this year Congressman Chris Lee resigned after having sent a shirtless photo to a woman from Craigslist. Following that, the aptly named Rep. Anthony Weiner recently admitted to sending inappropriate pictures and messages to college students. Here is my simple platform for public office: I won't do stupid stuff like that. I'll just show up for work every day and vote on stuff and not embarrass the people who support me and pay my salary with their taxes. 

You may be saying to yourself, "But Phil," which is an odd thing to say to yourself, 'how can I help you become President of the free world?" Lighten up Francis, I don't want to be President of the free world.   I just want to be President of Common Sense. Here's how you can help elect a normal human being to public office. 1. Keep reading my blog posts. 2. When you go back to your Facebook page click the "Share" button under the status update where you find this. That's right, you , me, and the awesome power of the interwebs will bring common sense back to government. I plan to campaign solely using the internet. Blogging, Facebook, Twitter, Youtube and any other method that doesn't require me or you to leave our couch. I will debate my opponents by Skype if necessary, but I will not, I repeat, NOT send any of you any pictures of me in any state of undress. I will not spend taxpayer dollars to pay for any illicit recreational pursuits, and I will not "tickle" anyone. Have you heard any other candidates make these promises? Bueller? Bueller?... Romney?Palin? Obama? Nope. Not a one has promised not to send you naked pictures, except me. 

If you want a President that stands for common sense and well... a Weiner free Facebook, click "Retweet",  'Share', and Like  knowing with confidence that you and your friends are one click closer to government that makes sense.

The Top Seven Reasons To Hate Oprah

I wanted to come up with ten reasons, but Oprah has already wasted too much of the internets' bandwidth so I cut it down to just seven. They say it's bad to speak ill of the dead. Oprah's show is gone but she's not dead yet, so let's have at her like she's a candy filled pinata. Actually, chances are she probably is candy filled. If you love to hate, read on...

1.  Her head is so large that it effects the tides. I'm also pretty sure it caused the weather pattern that has spawned all the recent tornado's. 

2.  She brought two guys on her show who are raising money to prevent Ugandan children from being abducted and forced to be soldiers (www.invisiblechildren.com). What a wonderful gesture right? Allowing these guys a platform to raise awareness of this issue is certainly admirable right? Last season she took her entire studio audience to Australia. Let's see...if you're a suburban housewife from Sheboygan, Wisconsin whose biggest worry is whether or not the Walmart flyer is missing from your Sunday paper, you get an all expenses paid, three week trip to Australia. If you're a homeless, Ugandan child forced into wartime slavery you get a 10 minute segment and a plug for the website. Nice. I just plugged the website above and when I saw the Invisible Children guys at a concert I gave them $2.20. Oprah can personally afford to build homes, hospitals and schools for all the children in Uganda. But did she? Where's their trip to Australia Oprah?

3.  Gail and Stedman. There it is. Still there. In my head. I didn't even have to look those names up. I never asked to have that information in my head. It's taking up valuable space. Space that, were it functioning and not wasted on Gail and Stedman, might have helped me to win a Pulizter Prize by now. Where's my Pulizter Prize Oprah?

4. It's always about Oprah. As of Dec. 2009 the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation was worth 33.5 billion dollars. Money that was used globally to enhance healthcare, reduce poverty, and expand educational access for the underprivileged. The Foundation currently donates approximately 17% of the world budget for the attempted eradication of polio. Did any of us know that? No, of course not. Bill Gates just goes about his business helping people because it's the right thing to do. If Oprah gives away a new Yugo we get a week of ads before the hour long show about it. Oprah is all about Oprah. She does good but wants to be sure you know she did good. 

5. Harpo. My name spelled backwards is Lihp. Who cares? Guess what Oprah, we can all spell our names backwards. Maybe I'll put mine on my license plate. How would you like that Oprah? Or would you rather have a show where you give me a license plate with my name spelled backwards so we can all clap for you? 

6.  Oprah is not following me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor

7.  She's not really gone. Her current show may be done, but do any of us really believe that she'll fade quietly into retirement? No, there will be more shows, movies about her life, and appearances on The View (of course anything that takes airtime away from Joy Behar can't be half bad right?). No, there was no reason for that two day good bye to Oprah that was filmed at the United Center in Chicago. Like the results of Arnold Schwarzeneggers past affairs, she'll be back. And Oprah, me and my blog will be your Sarah Connor, so you best tread lightly...

If you have reasons to hate Oprah that you'd like to add, feel free to add them in the comments section, or if you just want to spell your name backwards, have at it.

It's The End of the World As We Know It...

and I feel fine. Just in case the world really is ending, please read this. I love to see the page views numbers go up and I want to die happy.

According to Robin Harp, who was interviewed by the Southern Chester County Weekly, "We’re in our final days,” Harp said in an interview near his RV parked at a deserted service station off Route 1 just outside Kennett Square. “There is absolutely no possibility that this won’t happen. There is no question mark."  Oh, well, if Robin Harp says it, it must be true. He is after all parked at an abandoned gas station holding a cardboard sign. Why wouldn't we believe him? Actually, I think God speaking through a guy standing by the freeway with an RV and a cardboard sign is a sign of the apocalypse. If God really wanted us to know something I'm pretty sure we'd get a text about it. The article goes on to say that Harp is one of "thousands" of "messengers" worldwide who are predicting the apocalypse to begin this Saturday. Hmmm....I wonder if I should hold off on mowing my lawn... 

The prediction of the world ending comes from a loosely organized Christian group. Apparently the Christians didn't check their Mayan calendar which apparently has set aside a date in November 2012 for the end of the world. Nor did they speak with Michael Stipe of R.E.M. who predicted the end of the world in 1987. If Lenny Bruce is not afraid, neither am I.

For those of you skeptics who are reading this via the link on my Facebook page you can go right back to Facebook to join the page titled "Post Rapture Looting" which offers this invitation, "When everyone is gone and god's not looking, we need to pick up some sweet stereo equipment and maybe some new furniture for the mansion we're going to squat in." By Wednesday afternoon more than 175,000 indicated that they would be "attending" this "public event." 

In the news yesterday a current day Mayan leader said, "Dude, seriously, I am so sick of hearing about this. If the world does end, don't try and pin it on us. Damn, did you ever think that maybe the guy making the calendar just died, got laid off, or was fired for stealing office supplies?" I may be paraphrasing a bit, but that was generally the gist of what he said. He also pointed out that in some other carved-in-stone tablets another Mayan referenced the year 4077. He didn't reference a specific day, but I'll be pretty damn mad if the world ends right before my birthday again. My cell phone, pda, and computer all have calendar functions and all of their calendars go past Dec. 21, 2012 so there's all the proof you need that the world is not going to end in 3 years. In fact, I have written a post and dated it to be released to my blog for Dec. 22, 2012. Suck on that you Mayan calendar nutjobs. 

The Phil Laws

With the next Presidential election less than two years away and the next People magazine Sexiest Man Alive coronation mere months away, I hereby announce my candidacy for both with my current list of The Phil Laws which I will unilaterally impose upon my election to either post. 

1. No more Leap Year extra day. Make all months exactly the same length.

2. No more Daylight Savings Time. 

3. The elderly will only be allowed to drive motor vehicles or use supermarkets during certain hours of the day.

4. It should be perfectly legal to fire off a warning shot at any driver who slows his or her vehicle to gawk at an accident.  

5. You may not use rhetorical questions in a public setting unless you have been tested and deemed competent to do so. If you use or respond to a rhetorical question improperly any willing observer has the right to punch you in the forehead.

6. The pope should wear a baseball hat backwards instead of that giant dunce cap he always has on.

7. A 1-year ban on Lindsay Lohan “news.”

8. You cannot use a cell phone if you are in your own office building. Walk down the freakin’ hall and pick up your desk phone you moron.

9. It will be perfectly legal to punch a cell phone user in the mouth if they annoy you by walking around gesturing wildly and talking aloud to no one while wearing a cell headset.

10. Pregnant women should not tell their male co-workers how dilated they are.

11. Supreme Court Justices will wear jeans, sneakers, and t-shirts. No more robes. That’s just stupid. The dress code is the reason I’ve never become a Supreme Court Justice.

12. Congress will no longer be able to waste their time and our taxpayer dollars investigating cheating in sports or making laws about what men can and can’t do in an effort to meet women.

13. Hurricane names must be something scary, not just a normal name. Who’s going to flee something like Hurricane Ed? I believe that far less people would have perished if Hurricane Katrina had been named Hurricane Deathtron. You flee a storm named Deathtron. No one was scared by Katrina.

14. Anything you can play while sitting at a table or drinking alcohol is not a sport. (poker, bowling, golf) Also, if the winner is subjectively chosen by a panel of judges, it is not a sport. All the aforementioned activities have no place on television.

15. The only place you can be nude in your local gym locker room is in the shower. The rest of the time, wear a towel.

16. Funerals should include drinking and entertainment.

17. Schools need to request parental permission before exposing your child to a mime.

18. No putting bible verses on Halloween candy.

19. A ten-year ban on reality shows.

20. All public bathroom stalls will be as big as the handicapped stalls

21. No saying “See you next year” on Dec. 31st.

22. No more writing paper checks. Get yourself a debit card and stop holding up the lines at the supermarket.

23. The word ‘whatnot’ shall be struck from the English language.

24. Future Presidential elections will be done American Idol style.

 

There it is. If you read it all then you definitely qualify as my new best friend and possible future Vice-President.

Help Wanted: Music Conductor

Help Wanted: Music Conductor Why don't I ever see that title in my CareerBuilder e-mails?  That's a job I would apply for. I was at my son's college guitar ensemble recital the other night and there was an actual conductor. A stick holding, arm waving, page turning conductor. That is a job I think I could really throw myself into.

I don't have any relevant experience, but really, do you need any relevant experience? Maybe I spoke too soon. Actually, on second thought, I think do I have relevant experience! Let's see....what is the job description? 1) Wearing a tuxedo. Check. In fact, I was so advanced I did that part of the job in high school at a couple proms and looked damn good doing it. I still believe that it's one of my better skills. I wonder if music conductors actually show up for the job interview in a tux...God I hope so.  2) Wave my arms in time to music. Check. See high school/prom. Thank God the conductor doesn't have to move his feet in time to music. I'm still working on that skill. See high school/prom, and every wedding reception I've attended since then. And yes, since the link to this will post on Facebook, I believe I will have countless witnesses to act as references on this part. 3) Turn pages. Hmmm....I was a little delayed in developing that skill since I didn't crack open a book in high school, but in college I mastered page turning moderately well. 4) Be ignored by peers while doing all of the above.  Check, see high school/prom. 

I actually believe that the 4th qualification is the most crucial. Have you ever really watched an orchestra and their conductor at the same time? The conductor is waving his arms furiously, gesturing, turning pages of music, rising and falling as if he is controlling the tempo. Then you look at the musicians and not a single one of them is looking up at him or her for the cue. Of course not! They're professional musicians who have been playing their instrument their entire lives. They can play a freakin' song on their own without some penguin suit nimrod waving a chop stick at them! (And yes, after reading this, at least one of you will be at some recital in the near future and will remember the phrase "penguin suit nimrod" and you'll chuckle to yourself. You're welcome.) No one actually needs the conductor! He or she is like the mascot at a sporting event. They act like they're part of the action, but really they're just an unskilled buffoon in a suit jumping around. If a conductor was actually any good, wouldn't they be playing the music instead of waving their arms at it like a tinfoil hat loon barking at the cosmos? 

So yes, I am currently updating my CareerBuilder profile to include Music Conductor in the search engine. And while I am at it, I'm going to add conductor of all types. Really? Do we need a guy driving a train? They're on rails. No one needs to drive! And Thomas is talking, thinking train, he definitely has no need for a smart ass conductor. But if the job is open, I call dibs! I'll see you at the interview in my tux.

Lost in the Supermarket

"I'm all lost in the supermarket

I can no longer shop happily

I came in here for that special offer

A guaranteed personality"

 

We all have our home supermarket. Where I live there's a very popular and very prevalent supermarket chain. Often in the course of my job I end up stopping at other supermarkets in the same chain when I need to grab lunch for myself or just to run an errand. Each supermarket is another in the same supermarket chain as my last one. It looks just like my old supermarket with the same big, reassuring sign on the front that tells me I'll find everything I need within. The employees are dressed the same. The shopping carts look the same. The same shelves of newspapers and free periodicals are available in the entrance. Despite all these comforting signs that say everything will be all right, once I get inside it's as if I'm Alice in Wonderland and I've fallen down the rabbit's hole. NOTHING IS WHERE IT SHOULD BE!!!!!! It's like I was blindfolded in my old supermarket, spun around 10 times and then the blindfold was removed. Everything looks almost the same, but I'm completely disoriented. I stumble around as if drunk, bumping into shelves and shoppers that aren't where I expect them to be. The aisles are all still there, but they have different stuff in them! My shopping takes twice as long because this store is set up ALL WRONG!!!  Based on my disorientation alone it might be worth it for me to drive the extra 10 minutes to my old supermarket where I can find everything twice as fast. This is another thing I will change when I'm elected President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first. All supermarkets of the same chain must be set up exactly the same.

As if supermarkets being different weren't a big enough problem, they all seem to be populated by shoppers who are mentally deficient. For everyone out there, please note that you should drive your shopping cart the way you drive your car. In the U.S.A., please stay to the right as you move forward. (Read the next two lines with an unbelievably sarcastic tone and a bit of a shout please) If everyone goes the same way two carts wide no one can go the other direction! And if someone comes from the other direction, don't just stand there stupidly looking at each other waiting for one of you to back up 3 feet!  Another type of shopper I hate is "the contemplative shopper". These brain boxes pull up in front of a section of items and then stand there pondering what must be a life changing choice based on the amount of time it takes them. They become human cholesterol blocking the vital artery of carts attempting to flow.  As bad as the contemplative shopper is the people who still write paper checks at the checkout. As the cashier announces the total they are suddenly surprised that they have to pay. It is at this moment that they finally take out their checkbook and begin to fill out a check and then meticulously log it in their check register. At this point it's also a good thing that guns are not sold as "impulse items" on the rack at the checkout. If I was to ever have the impulse to shoot someone that would be the time. I also believe it would be justifiable in a court of law. 

As an aside, if you can get the musical reference I used in the intro without looking it up, you win 5000 Phil Points which can be redeemed at the gift shop for a t-shirt and you also become my new best friend.

I'm Not a Doctor but I Play One Online....

Former rockstar and current reality t.v. personality(?) Bret Michaels is suing the Tony Awards claiming that the producers did not instruct him how to leave the stage safely after his 2009 performance resulting in him being "smacked" (a complicated legal term meaning 'hit by') in the face by a piece of the set, resulting in a broken nose and cut lip.  Six months after his appearance Michaels suffered a subarachnoid brain hemorrhage which the former Poison frontman claims is related to his head trauma at the Tony Awards. 

Yeah Bret, it was bumping your head on a door that caused a hemorrhage.  I'm not a doctor but I play one online and I think there may be a fair chance that 30 years of heroin and alcohol may have had something to do with it. Or maybe you watched your Tony's performance. I watched it and I'm thinking of suing you because of the traumatic brain injury your horrible performance caused me. Those are 5 minutes of my life I wish I had back. Or perhaps you went a few weeks without any completely useless publicity and your brain just imploded. Michaels lawyer claims that, "Through his sheer will to live, to see his children grow up, he was able to survive this trauma." Oh my god, he has children? That can't be good. And yeah, it was his sheer will to live that resulted in his survival, not the team of highly educated physicians at the hospital who save lives every day. When Bret does something right, like continue to live, he takes full credit for it. When he does something stupid, like hit his head he's all blame and lawyered up. 

Hey Bret, what about 15 years ago when you got all drugged up and ran your Ferrari into a telephone pole and nearly died? Was that the Ferrari companies fault because they didn't tell you not to do that? What about your mini-stroke last year, or the hole in your heart? Whose fault are those?   Why aren't your lawyers filing lawsuits against cocaine? I hear Bret has Type I diabetes. I'm sure the lawsuit against sugar will be filed any day now. 

Tattoo You? Tattoo me!

The tattoo represents my sons. Two are musicians and one is a baseball player. It's my second tattoo and I got it high enough on the arm that I can easily hide it even wearing a short sleeve shirt. So where and what are your tattoos? Maybe I should start a Tattoo Tuesdays where everyone posts a pic of one of their tattoos. Of course I'd be out of material after two weeks. I wonder how much Blogger would pay me to have their logo tattooed on me somewhere visible...

The Brazilian Dictator Lift

Honestly, the word Dictator in the title could easily be replaced with "Butt" and I doubt few would argue, although Muammar might have me shot. News broke this week that a Brazilian cosmetic surgeon admitted that in 1995 he performed liposuction on the then 53 year old Muammar Qaddafi and then injected the fat into Qaddafi's face to remove wrinkles. He also reported that he had given the Libyan dictator hairplugs as well because at the time Qaddafi was concerned that "the young people of his nation would see him as an old man." 

Muammar, Muammar, Muammar, I am ashamed to think of you as a dictator. This insecurity is not becoming of a man of your station. Why when I was a young boy dictators didn't give a hoot what their constituents thought of them. You should be embarrassed Muammar. You're a dictator! Act like one! You're not a reality show contestant. You're a dictator! You make the rules. Nobody votes you off the island. And if they try to, just have them shot. You think Fidel Castro cares what people think. He might even be dead. We don't know and neither do the Cubans. If he wanted us to know he'd tell us. You're a freaking DICTATOR ! There is no election coming up. Who cares how old anyone thinks you are? Who cares what the young people think? 

And dude, seriously, you have to call that surgeon up and demand your money back, or take his family hostage or something. His work did not hold up. Your head looks like a prune. And those hair plugs? Really? Chicks totally know when you've had it done. And not a single gray hair? Really? 69 years old and you're still rockin' the Just For Men? At least let a few gray hairs mix in there. You are totally missing the boat on all the bad girls with Daddy issues. Or, just shave the whole damn thing and tell them you'd grow it out if you wanted to. And that turban? Really?!!? What is it with you dicatators and hats? It's like 106 degrees in the winter in Libya. At least go with a visor. That turban must make your head sweat like a sonofabitch. It's like you have the same P.R. team as Charlie Sheen. No wonder we're bombing the hell out of your tiny country. 

Inappropriate Uses For Onstar

We've all heard the commercials. "Hello. This is Dave from Onstar. How can I help you?" Caller responds tearfully, "My six month old baby is locked in my car with a rabid pit bull and I can't find my extra set of keys."  While Onstar is a wonderful service I'm sure there are people who abuse the service. 

Ring, ring! "Hello. This is Dave from Onstar. How can I help you?"

Caller: "Dude! I can't believe this. I went out with my friends and man we had, like, I dunno, 20 shots of this incredible blue stuff. Dude, you gotta try this stuff. It's awesome.  Anyway, the parking lot is like, ginormous, and now I can't find my car. It's red. Can you see it from there?"

Onstar Dave: (With biting sarcasm) "No sir. I cannot see your car. 

Caller: C'mon Dave. Dude, you've got, like, a satellite right? Why can't you see my car? Can you at least make the horn honk or the lights flash so I can find it?" 

Onstar Dave:(Smirking) "Oh, sure sir. This may take a few minutes. Just wait, and the next time you hear a car horn, walk towards it. Have a nice night."

 

Ring, ring! "Hello. This is Dave from Onstar. How can I help you?"

Female caller: "I'm calling about my boyfriends car."

Onstar Dave: "What's wrong ma'am? Has he been in an accident?"

Female caller: "An accident? I wish! That son of a bitch slept with my sister when I was gone for the weekend! Could you use your satellite to, like, blow up his car with a giant laser or something?"

 

Ring, ring! "Hello. This is Dave from Onstar. How can I help you?"

Caller: "Yeah. You've got to help me. This is an emergency."

Onstar Dave: "Slow down. Talk slowly so I can get all the information I need."

Caller:  "Ok, I was stuck in traffic on I-90 when I look over at this little, red, Pontiac Sunbird next to me and this chick was totally hot and she smiled at me. Just as I was about to get out of my car and go over to get her phone number, traffic started moving again and I missed her. Her license plate number is 975-AIG. Could you call her up and give her my phone number?"

Onstar Dave: "(Heavy sigh) Ok, hold on a sec. There, that should do it. About a half mile ahead you should find her pulled over on the shoulder with her car inexplicably stalled. Keep me on the line and when you get under the hood just press your star key and I'll start her back up."

Caller: "Onstar Dave, you rock!"

Onstar Dave: "Yes I do."

 

Daylight Stupid Time

I don't know if other countries do this, and I know that all of the states in the U.S. don't abide by it. Daylight Savings time is when we move our clocks forward an hour in the spring and move them back an hour in the fall. I think it was created about 100 years ago to give farmers more daylight in which to do their work in the fields. Call me crazy, but why the hell didn't someone just suggest that the lazy ass farmers drag themselves out of a bed a little earlier each day? Because those cud chewing, overall wearing, udder jerking lay abouts can't be bothered to set their alarm clocks we are all stuck changing time. I don't know if anyone else noticed, but 5 years ago the U.S. Congress, in another colossal waste of their time and our tax dollars, extended daylight savings time by a few weeks on either end. First off, why isn't it called daylight spending time since we are using more daylight in the summer months? Secondly, at this point the farmers (except the creepy Amish ones) all have electricity and alarm clocks, which may not have been the case 100 years ago. Reportedly the reason Congress is doing this is to save energy. How will changing our clocks twice a year save energy? Don't we set our thermostats and use heat based on the outdoor temperature, not how light out it is? I'd like to save the energy I expend changing my damn clocks! I'd like Congress to tell me when I get that back. Congress is again proving to be the biggest collection of morons outside of...well...I guess I can't think of a bigger collection. Why doesn't Congress set their alarm clocks an hour earlier so they can get up early and get more of this important work done? I for one am not going to go for this stupid daylight savings time thing anymore. I don't work at a farm or for Congress, so I told my boss that for 6 months I'll be to work an hour early or late, however it works out. 

When I'm elected President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first, this is going to change.

 

Winning!

Charlie Sheen. There I said it. Then again, who hasn't uttered the words "Charlie Sheen" over the past two weeks? He says he's "winning" while the rest of the world seems to think he's losing it. What exactly is it that he's losing? Ok, he may lose 2 1/2 Men, but frankly that isn't much of a loss for anyone except Ducky and the homely teenage actor who both likely won't find too many employment offers that don't include a nametag and paper hat. Instead of canceling the show the producers are idiots not to incorporate Wild Thing's latest trials and tribulations into the plot. This past week's re-run was the highest rated show on Monday night. Idiots were watching as if Charlie Sheen was going to do something nutty.  Why not have his character go on a bender? Don't even script it. Just buy Charlie some drugs and follow him with cameras. Make it a reality show. CBS thought the scripted show had good ratings? They could cancel all other programming and just follow Charlie 24/7 live. We'd be afraid to look away for fear that we'd miss something. 

Everyone also seems to think Charlie has gone crazy. As the old saying goes, I think he's crazy like a fox. Which is the network most likely to air his reality show. Are you kidding? There isn't an actor or actress in the world who isn't jealous of the 24/7 publicity Sheen is getting. Sirius satellite radio has temporarily set up a Charlie Sheen channel, Tiger Blood radio. He has more Twitter followers than any human being on the planet, and he got them all this week. I have four. (If I go on a binge and post the word "winning" on Facebook every day will you follow me?) Sheen's agent is probably overwhelmed with offers for tv and movies right now. Imagine the redemption story! "Charlie Sheen back from the brink!" I think he knows exactly what he's doing and he's brilliant. If he's high on the drug "Charlie Sheen", I gotta get me some of that.

 

P.S. Can anyone identify the movie that the pic above came from?

The Everyday Oscars

Well, it's happened again. I was passed over. Not a single Oscar nomination. The whole process is completely biased against people like me. Ok, I know that there aren't really other people like me, but that does not excuse the Hollywood establishments prejudice against me. The Oscars have been handed out longer than I've been alive, but not once have I been awarded a gold, phallic statuette. Just because I'm not some kiss-ass Hollywood insider who's made a movie in the past year they completely overlook my accomplishments! It is because of this snub that I refuse to attend the awards ceremony.

I do have Oscar-worthy acting talent. So do many of you. Just because our skills don't appear on the big screen doesn't mean our talents should go unappreciated! To recognize the acting achievements of everyone like me, I hereby introduce The First Annual Everyday Oscar Awards! I imagine the awards ceremony will go something like this:

MC Phil: The Everyday Oscar for Best Performance in The Workplace goes to...(fumbling with envelope)..Craig Snodgrass for his role in "The Overdue Report!"  (video clip begins to roll on the monitor)

Craig: "Yes Mr. Hendricks, I knew that report was due this morning. I was about to forward it to you when I got the call that my grandmother, the woman who raised me after my parents died, was in a car accident."

Mr. Hendricks: "Is that a Hooters napkin sticking out of your pocket?"

Craig: "Yes it is sir. The hospital needed two quarts of my blood for the transfusion. They said I should drink a lot of fluids for the rest of the day. I got a little woozy driving back to the office and I had to pull over."

MC Phil: That always brings a tear to my eye. Next up, the Everyday Oscar for Best Relationship Saving Performance goes to...Heather Stevens for her fantastic performance in "Whose Boxers Are These?" (video clip begins to roll)

Boyfriend: "Heather, I just found these boxer shorts under your side of the bed! They're not mine! Whose are they?!!?"

Heather: Awww! You ruined the surprise! I bought them for you, but I got so turned on at the thought of you in them, that I put them on myself and wore them around for a day. Would you like to see me in them?"

Boyfriend: "Are these your skid marks?"

Heather: "Umm...yeah?"

As you can see this would be a very popular idea.

 

I Could Bite Your Face

To paraphrase The Beatles' Eleanor Rigby song, I'd like to say: All the stupid people, where do they all come from? I found myself helpless witness and finally participant to two incredibly idiotic conversations this week. At one time I was in the waiting room of a medical office and seated near me was a couple that would make the folks on CMT's "Redneck Wedding" look like the height of haute couture. This couple had more digits than teeth and their attire would make an Amish grandfather look trendy. So the woman, who was reading a magazine, People or Us or some similar intellectually stimulating tripe, says, "Look, a composer, that would be a good job!" I'm thinking, "Yeah honey, you check the want ads for that one. I'm sure there's a big market for a gal with your resume."

Later in the week I'm in another office, one that has both a psychiatrist and an internal medicine doc. Two roughly 18 year old girls come in, check in, and sit down near me. One starts reading a People Magazine and soon thereafter points out to the other member of her Mensa club an article about a female jogger who survived a bear attack. First they debated at length whether or not there are any mountains in New York state because if there were they would avoid said mountains to avoid being attacked by bears. Then the debate raged on regarding whether or not you could escape certain death by playing dead when attacked by a brown bear or a black bear. Of course the inevitable discourse of what type of bear is native to New York ensued. I believe they concluded that brown bears fall for this ruse but black bears do not. Girl number 1 informed girl number 2 that the jogger survived the attack by poking the bear in the eyes while it was biting her face. Girl number 2, whom I'm fairly certain did not work for NASA, then speculated that a baby bear might not be able to harm her because its jaw might not be large enough that the bear would be able to open it's mouth sufficiently wide enough to bite her face. To this Girl number 1 replied, "I could bite your face." At this point I burst out laughing and added, "And don't you forget it. You don't want to make her mad." The girls then stopped talking for the remainder of their time in the waiting room.

Synchronicity

In 1983 The Police released the Synchronicity album. In 2011 some guy in China caused outrage with a different kind of synchronicity.  Chinese magician Fu Yandong caused outrage among animal rights activists, the Chinese and Sting by somehow having goldfish swim in synchronicity. Apparently he was ordered to stop performing the trick in public because the animal rights people think he somehow put little magnets inside the goldfish to control them. I can't understand why people are upset about this. I think Fu is on to something. If he can control goldfish with magnets I don't see why we don't expand this use of technology. I've been feeding my dogs magnets and have mounted a big electronic magnet right next to my back door. I send the dogs out to do their business and when I want them back in I turn on the big magnet. Hopefully a big UPS truck or something doesn't drive by while they're outside. I've lost more magnetic dogs that way.

I don't think we need to limit our use of magnetic technology to just animals however. I think this technology would be fantastic for kindergarten teachers. 

 

No Shirt, No Shoes, No Congressman

C'mon Chris Lee! Seriously? You were a U.S. Congressman! Seems like a pretty good job to me. I always thought that job might take some sort of intelligence. Apparently it's not a requirement. Then again, Congress still calls their vacations "recess," so I guess it's no surprise when one of you acts like a child. Shirtless pics on craigslist? Really? What are you 17 years old? Or was your girlfriend? Didn't your girlfriend have a MySpace acct. you could have hit her up on? 46 years old and you told her you were 39? Seriously? Were you looking at the same picture the rest of us were? You're in good shape for your age, but 39?!!? Moron. It's no wonder she blew you in to the press. You didn't think anyone on craigslist would know what their congressman would look like? Maybe next time, and I'm guessing there will be a next time since Mrs. Lee couldn't have been too thrilled with this, you should first ask your craigslist gals if they're a Republican or Democrat. One good thing did come of your short lived escapade however. As a N.Y. Jets fan I'd like to thank you for very quickly taking the heat off of Jets QB Mark Sanchez for dating a 17 year old. You made that one short news cycle. You can cross your fingers but I don't think the Egypt situation is going to make us forget that creepy picture of yours. I think Hosni Mubarak waited so long to resign because your idiotic story made everyone forget about him for a couple days. 

The Overlaughers

We all know the overlaughers. We encounter them in everyday life. You may even be an overlaugher. Typically the overlaughers have no idea they are one. Typically, overlaughers also annoy the hell out of the rest of us. I'm five sentences in and you're all still thinking, "What the hell is an overlaugher ? Get to it already would you!" If this was your thought, you are probably not an overlaugher. An overlaugher is a person whose laughter is often disproportionate to the stimulus which provoked it. On the one side of this, it is nice that these people are enjoying life so much that they find even the most modestly amusing things bring them unmitigated joy. The other side of this coin is that the rest of us have to listen to them guffaw loudly during meetings, in casual conversations and during movies or television shows. Don't get me wrong, I love to laugh and I love hearing others laugh at my jokes, but even if it is my joke, I still get the urge to slap an overlaugher right out of their fit of hysteria if it is unwarranted. There are three types of overlaughers. I'm not sure which is more irritating.

The first type is the Self Overlaugher, also known as an Overlaugher Type I. Earlier this week I was at a conference for work. One day  I sat in a conference room being lectured at for 9 hours.. One of the presenters was an attractive 28-30 year old woman who had just gotten her Ph.D. the day before yesterday and couldn't wait to enthusiastically share all the brand spankin' new information they had taught her in college, but which has no useful application in the real world. In an effort to spice up her presentation she interspersed jokes and amusing personal anecdotes. Early in the day I was very pleased with this approach. Then I noticed she was an Overlaugher Type I. She found herself hysterically funny. So funny in fact that she often began laughing at her jokes before the audience had a chance to. Sometimes the audience chose not to laugh since she had already done it for them. It is fine to tell jokes, in fact I do it all day long. Sometimes it is even Ok to smirk or chuckle a bit when you say something amusing. A Self-Overlaugher laughs loudly and profusely at their own jokes as if someone else had just said something side-splittingly funny.

The second day we had a different presenter who was a bit more low key. Unfortunately for the rest of us an Overlaugher Type II had taken up residence in the front row. As a performer or public speaker it is wonderful to have several Type II Overlaughers in your audience. Type II Overlaughers seem to have an over-reactive funny bone. They find everything hysterically funny and usually have very little self-awareness regarding the volume at which their laughter emanates from their body. The problem for public speakers and audiences alike is when there is just one Type II Overlaugher in the audience. When there is just one Type II Overlaugher in the audience their laughter, which is either too loud, occurs alone, or outlasts the group response, tends to make a joke seems less funny because of their singularly exaggerated response, which usually causes everyone in the room to look at them and think, "What the hell is wrong with him? It wasn't that funny"

The Type III Overlaugher is known as the Combo type. A Combo Overlaugher laughs loudly and frequently at both their own jokes and everyone elses. The Combo Overlaughers are exhausting to be around and give most of us a headache. These people must collapse exhausted at the end of each day from the sheer energy required to maintain this laughter all day. The Combo Overlaughers strike me as very sad though because you know damn well that no one is that happy 24/7 and if they behave as if they are they're probably hiding something. Like seeing a clown at a bar drinking and smoking at the end of a long day of making ballon animals I imagine that the Type III Overlaughers go home and drink themselves to sleep every night. The one place I do love Overlaughers however is in my comments, so please, feel free to embrace your inner Overlaugher. Which type are you?

 

Daylight Savings Time

I don't know if other countries do this, and I know that all of the states in the U.S. don't abide by it. Daylight Savings time is when we move our clocks forward an hour in the spring and move them back an hour in the fall. I think it was created about 100 years ago to give farmers more daylight in which to do their work in the fields. Call me crazy, but why the hell didn't someone just suggest that the lazy ass farmers drag themselves out of a bed a little earlier each day? Because those cud chewing, overall wearing, udder jerking lay abouts can't be bothered to set their alarm clocks we are all stuck changing time. I don't know if anyone else noticed, but 3 years ago the U.S. Congress, in another colossal waste of their time and our tax dollars, extended daylight savings time by a few weeks on either end. First off, why isn't it called daylight spending time since we are using more daylight in the summer months? Secondly, at this point the farmers all have electricity and alarm clocks, which may not have been the case 100 years ago. Reportedly the reason Congress is doing this is to save energy. How will changing our clocks twice a year save energy? Don't we set our thermostats and use heat based on the outdoor temperature, not how light out it is? Congress is again proving to be the biggest collection of morons outside of...well...I guess I can't think of a bigger collection. Why doesn't Congress set their alarm clocks an hour earlier so they can get up early and get more of this important work done? I for one am not going to go for this stupid daylight savings time thing anymore. I don't work at a farm or for Congress, so I told my boss that for 6 months I'll be to work an hour early or late, however it works out.

When I'm elected President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first, this is going to change.