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?