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)..Mark Genzler for his role in "The Overdue Report!"; (video clip begins to roll on the monitor) Mark: "Yes Mr. Whalen, 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. Whalen: "Is that a Hooters napkin sticking out of your pocket?" Mark: "Yes it is sir. The hospital needed two quarts of my blood for the transfusion. They said I should drink lots 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...Susan Reynolds 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?!!?" Susan: 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?" Susan: "Umm...yeah?"

If you'd like to nomonate me for an Oscar, Everyday or otherwise, please click the Facebook Like or share button, subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle and you can follow me on Facebook here; Facebook.com/AuthorPhilTaylor  

 

We're All Gonna Die!

"We're all gonna die!" It seemed very funny to shout that during a fire drill my freshman year at Cicero High School. It was still funny to my friend John Martin and I after we realized our only consequence would be a stern talking to by the principal. Yes, when confronted I dragged my friend into it. He dared me to, I said.

What happened was that in the midst of 2000 students being evacuated from our high school I turned to my friend John and said, Do you dare me to yell "We're all gonna die?" Of course John took me up on my offer and unwittingly became my accomplice when I caught heat from the man. At the time I was young and foolish with no concept of my own mortality. I thought death was something to be laughed at.

I no longer think death is funny. I generally still do not believe in my own mortality, but I'm starting to hedge my bets in this regard. Just because it happens to other people doesn't mean it will happen to me. As my mother always said, "If your friend jumped off a bridge does that mean you have to?" Much to my mother's eternal satisfaction I am answering NO. If you want to die, go ahead and do it, but I refuse to be a follower.

My problem is that yesterday a meteor or meteors filled the sky over Russia and actually hurt some people. Also some scientists with a telescope larger than a third world country notified us that an asteroid would be buzzing our planet today close enough to knock some branches off of the trees in my back yard. I may not believe that I'm going to die, but I'm not completely unrealistic. I will admit than an asteroid, in most cases, is larger than me and if it hit me in the head I would have a hard time surviving that. Yes, I know I have a large head, but not large enough that it has it's own gravitational pull.

Who I'm really angry at is the scientists. Damn them and their ever inquisitive minds! Why did they have to tell me this? Did anyone here really want to know that getting hit by an asteroid the size of Rhode Island is a possibility? In this case ignorance is bliss. Why couldn't the scientists just leave well enough alone? My entire life I've been at the top of the food chain and that has been a pretty secure feeling. Now this. Now I have to spend the rest of my life staring up at the sky looking for asteroids.

In general I figure that if a really big one hit the Earth I'd be fine as long as it didn't hit me directly in the head. Maybe all this is why the scientists developed the male birth control pill. They just figured that if we're all gonna die then we might as well start getting  jiggy with it. Yes, that's right, I said jiggy. I'm bringin' jiggy back. In fact, that's probably the new science geek pick up line. "Hey baby, you know we might get hit by an asteroid any minute, so why don't you just go ahead and get jiggy with me? Obviously I'm cool enough to say jiggy, but the scientists aren't.

When I'm elected President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first, I'm going to pass a law stating that if the scientists see an asteroid headed our way, unless they have some way to make the entire planet duck out of the way they should just shut the hell up.

If you enjoy my nonsense and want to make sure you don't miss an episode until the big one hits, you can subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle and follow me on Facebook by clicking the Like button at www.Facebook.com/AuthorPhilTaylor. If you're a Cicero High School alum click the Facebook Share button below so we can continue to reminisce together about our high school highjinks and so that this eventually gets back to John, who is probably still mad that I sold him out.

When I'm elected Pope or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first...

The Pope is retiring! You know what that means right? There's a job opening. I'd better brush up my resume and see how many Cardinals I know on LinkedIn. It won't be easy, but I think that I can at least score an interview. I interview well, but just because I'm not a glad handing Cardinal in the Catholic church I may not even get a whiff of consideration for the job. That is totally not fair. If I am ever elected Pope the first thing I'm going to do is revise that hat. It's got to be a total pain in the ass to get through doorways wearing a 3 foot hat that's shaped like a post hole digger. And how in the world does that guy sleep at night wearing that thing? His bed must be 9 feet long! Yes, he does wear it to sleep in. How else do you explain the fact that every time you see him he's in a big, white bathrobe. He didn't really mean to have a Christmas Midnight Mass for a million people. He was just rolling out of the rack and heading out to his balcony to have a smoke. Once he got out there and saw the million people and tv cameras he just ran with it. You gotta respect that. I think a nice papal baseball cap worn backwards would be cool. It could have a big "V" on the front for Vatican. When I'm Pope I'll also have one of those big foam No. 1 fingers for waving from the balcony to the millions of people who wait outside all the time. You know there is no way that the guy standing 800 rows back from the Vatican can see that little Miss America wave that the Pope does. One reason I want to become Pope is because of the Popemobile. Fourth coolest vehicle in existence behind the Batmobile, the Mystery Machine, and the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile. If I'm elected Pope I guarantee that ride becomes Numero Uno. I'll add some bitchin' flame decals on the side to signify how I'm totally defeating Satan with my badass ride. Then I'd add some 20" mag rims, make that bad boy a low rider with a hydraulic kit, wire in a killer sound system and doors that open like a DeLorean. Tell me that sled wouldn't have worshipers! I've got a goatee. If I were Pope I'd keep that. A Pope with a goatee would be cool. Especially if it was me. I know I usually only post on weekends, but I was so excited about this Pope thing I had to put this right up. Don't worry, if I'm elected Pope I'll still keep blogging. A Pope with a goatee and a blog. How cool would that be? Also as Pope-to-be I decree that the 11th commandment shall be that if you laughed even a little at this please hit the Facebook like or share button.

The President Might Kill Me

He's probably not trying to kill me right now, but he might. And he could, and it would be legal. I'm sure President Obama wouldn't be the first to think about killing me, but he's probably the first that could do it legally by remote control plane. Earlier this week the Obama administration re-affirmed a Bush era policy that gives the President the right to unilaterally decide to kill someone that might be a threat to the country in the future.  If you need more factual information than I'll ever provide you can read about it here: http://www.cnn.com/2013/02/07/us/drones-classified-document/index.html

Sure my little Barack Obama jokes on my blog may seem cute, but what if Barry gets his panties in a bunch and decides that I'm trying to lead an uprising? I won't debate the pros or cons of the policy, but I will say as a "guy" that it is a seriously awesome policy. We get to sit home playing Call of Duty while Barack by virtue of his job gets to play it for real. Part of the policy leaked to the public this week indicated that Barack Obama could use drone planes to assasinate anyone he thought might be a threat to U.S. security. Drone planes! Seriously, how cool is that? I wonder if he has a Playstation controller in his desk drawer that he takes out. 

Now if he's picking off al-Queda operatives I'm cool with that. But what if he gets some bad info? Or worse yet, what if somewhere out there some terrorist has the same name as me? Sure, the chances of that are fairly small, but it could happen. How can I rest easy knowing that Barack could be scrolling through the online White Pages and click on the wrong Phil Taylor when he's targeting the drone? Or what if Barack decides to take a night off, gets all liquored up, checks Michelle's browser history and finds that she's been visiting my blog just a little too often again? That is exactly when we need a little bit of the old checks and balances system. 

I'm pretty sure that my ADT security system won't be much help if a drone flies in my front door and tries to drop a smart bomb in my pants. It won't matter where I am if Barry decides that me or my blog are a threat to the country. I'm pretty sure that if Dominos can find me in 30 minutes or less the Air Force can GPS the hell out of my cell phone and find me no matter where I am. 

I'd just like to say a big hello to all the wonderful CIA and FBI operatives reading this today. Welcome to The Phil Factor! Think about this: the CIA and FBI monitor "internet chatter" to find threats to U.S. security. I assume that they probably have some internet filter that grabs onto anything with certain keywords they've programmed it to look for. In the course of this blog I've used the words President Obama, kill, smart bomb, al-Queda, threat and Michelle. 

In the event that I'm killed by a drone plane or I mysteriously "disappear" please keep the Phil Factor spirit alive by hitting the Facebook Like or Share buttons. Also, I'm still on my quest to have my novel White Picket Prisons gross more than the $264 that Christian Slater's movie Playback did, so if you haven't, please buy my book for your Kindle, Nook, or iPad for only $2.99. You can also keep up with all my writing hijinks including contests by following my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Phil-Taylor/331876066920144

 

Christian Slater is My Darth Vader

In much the same way that Darth Vader dogged Luke Skywalker throughout the series of Star Wars movies, Christian Slater has dogged me. One upping and thwarting me at every turn and stealing my success, all the while smiling smugly and skating away after a wry, sarcastic comment. Well no more I say. Hear me now and hear me loud Christian Michael Leonard Slater. Your bloody reign of terror is in it's waning moments and I shall savor my victory. Or perhaps, much like Luke and Darth Vader there will be reconcilliation and you will join the side of the righteous and the good. 

Our story began in the maternity ward of a New York City hospital in the late 1960's. As our parents stood side by side gazing lovingly at us in our bassinets they discussed names. My parents proudly named me with a regal middle moniker from my maternal grandfather. As my parents proudly revealed my name, your parents, with a look of concern, or perhaps scorn, huddled and whispered hurriedly before turning and smiling smugly as they revealed that you would be called Christian Michael Leonard Slater, the boy with TWO middle names! Only hours out of the womb and you were already attempting to steal my infantile thunder. "Curse you! You swaddled demon!" I thought to myself as I shook my tiny fist in the direction of your bassinet.

Of course our school years were inexorably linked with the spelling bees, school plays, and of course who can forget the 1975 Cub Scout Troup 316 Pinewood Derby? Each and every time my dream of grasping that golden ring, that top stair on the podium, that starring role or just a moment of applause from my classmates seemed so close until...until the golden boy, Christian would swoop in at the last moment and spell the word, remember the line, or perhaps have a Pinewood Derby car that seemed just a little too fast to be only 5 ounces. 

Then of course came high school where I was the shy, skinny, guy on the track team while you were the rebellious, edgy outsider that all the emo chicks were into. Grudgingly I have to admit that I did listen to your pirate radio station, but I hated myself for doing it.

As an adult now those petty childhood competitions are behind us. I thought I had moved on. But then, just when you had forgotten about me, you slipped. You left the door open a tiny crack and I plan to come barging through like the Kool-Aid pitcher on a hot summer day. I'm sure you were hoping I wouldn't notice, but I did. It turns out Christian that I was one of the very few that noticed that you "starred" in a movie last year. Your movie Playback was only shown in a single theater for a single week. Playback grossed a whopping total of $264.00. Really? $264? Isn't that pretty much just tickets and snacks for a family of four at the movies? 

Dear Christian it might interest you to know that in 2012, I, Philip One Middle Name Taylor, released a book, a short novel, White Picket Prisons. Much like the lion of the Serengeti I am stalking you and your paltry $264 movie. I dare to dream that I could take down my mythical Darth Vader. That sad little movie will be your Deathstar and your downfall as my novel grosses more than $264. I'm not there yet, but I am confident Christian that with the support of my friends I shall finally best you. Where are your friends Christian? Certainly not in that theater watching Playback. A few years from now I also hope to savor the final irony as you come groveling, beggng to play the role of Cooper in the Lifetime network movie based on White Picket Prisons. 

As always, if you like what you read here please hit the Facebook Like and/or Share button. If you enjoy my nonsense and would like to help me defeat Darth Christian Slater you can find my humorous, murder mystery novel White Picket Prisons available for Kindle, Nook, and iPad for only $2.99. You can also following all my writing stuff by liking my Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Phil-Taylor/331876066920144?fref=ts