Tag Archives: Throwback Thursday

TBT! Could Healthy, Organic Foods Be Killing You? Probably.

(Sept. 6, 2014) The answer is of course! If you hit anyone hard enough with a cantaloupe it would probably kill them. The question is are health foods killing you slowly and insidiously the way health food advocates claim that all those so called “unhealthy” foods are?

squashsquares

See that picture? Notice the smiling cartoon children? Of course they’re cartoon children! You can’t get real children to smile about squash for breakfast! I’m calling Child Protective Services on anyone who buys this for their kids.

A clinical study that I would do if I had the time would show that healthy, organic foods are killing us little by little, emotionally and maybe physically. In an article I found online anthropologist Rachel Caspari said that by examining Neanderthal dental records, her team established that 130,000 years ago, ‘no-one survived past 30. At least I think that’s what she was saying. I didn’t want to read further in case she presented some alleged facts that wouldn’t support my point.

And what is my point? My point is that 130,000 years ago nobody was frying stuff, nobody was adding antibiotics to anything and nobody was giving cows steroids, and guess what? They didn’t live past 30. So back when all we ate was organic foods nobody lived very long. Then when we started adding additives, preservatives and trans fats around 1900 or so the average human lifespan in many developed countries has extended to 80 or better.

See that picture? “Chickenless” nuggets? Just knowing they exist made my soul die a little bit. Take a moment to imagine a life where you wake up, grab a cup of Fair Trade, Organically Grown Coffee, pour yourself a bowl of Banana Squash Squares for breakfast and then, after a long, hard day of work, you come home to a dinner of “Chickenless” nuggets made from textured wheat protein. Maybe later with a glass of organic wine you’ll munch on some flax seeds. Did any of you feel happy when you imagined that scenario? No! Of course not. Health food is bad for your soul. Now picture swinging by Starbucks in the morning to grab a brownie and a tall Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino. Then for lunch you grab a juicy burger and fries. When you return home maybe you eat a little healthy by having some nice salmon, but when you settle down later you top the day off with a couple chocolate chip cookies. How did you feel when you thought about that day? Much better right? So called “bad” food is good for your soul.

Also, if nuggets were to forever be chicken-less, would the chicken population explode and civilized areas would be overrun by chickens running around without having their heads cut off? That’s the apocalypse scenario I’m worried about. Zombie chickens!

Picture credit: play.google.com

Picture credit: play.google.com

So, in summary, if you eat too much “healthy” food you won’t live as long or feel as happy, and you would cause us to be overrun by chickens. Is that what you want?

So what are your favorite indulgent foods that make you feel better at the end of a rough day? What are the worst healthy foods you’ve ever seen or eaten? As always, if you enjoy #ThePhilFactor feel free to share by hitting the Facebook, Twitter, or re-blog button below. Have a great weekend! ~Phil

Throwback Thursday! The President Might Kill Me

(Feb. 9, 2013) 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 assassinate 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? 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 #ThePhilFactor 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

Btw, this is me talking in present time. Not part of the Throwback post anymore. I don’t care who any of you voted for. Just please don’t make President Trump aware of this policy. If he knew that he could use drones to kill anyone at any time…

Have a great Thursday! ~Phil

TBT! The Clown Whisperer

(Aug. 7, 2007) Yesterday started out normally enough and then I saw the first clown. Yes, I said the first clown. There is no circus in town. There was no parade yesterday. But there he was, in front of the guitar store waiting for a ride. He sat on the bench and carefully arranged his clown suitcase and his other clown accoutrements in front of him as he waited. I became self-conscious that he might notice me staring even though I was watching him in my rear view mirror. He appeared to look in my direction, right at my rear view mirror and into my soul. A chill crept across my heart. I looked down for a moment, fearful that he was returning my gaze and I’d suddenly be mesmerized by his piercing stare. Then when I looked up again he was gone. It was so sudden that I wasn’t certain he’d ever been there. There was no car pulling away. No trail of endless brightly colored handkerchiefs as he walked away. Just nothing. He was…gone.

 
Later in the day I was driving home from running some errands and as I stopped at a traffic light I looked at the car turning left, crossing the intersection in front of me. What I saw looking back at me was unbelieveable. Two clowns in a car. Yep, only two. But they were clowns in full makeup looking at me as they passed. “WTF,” I thought. And then they were gone, just like the other one.
Why? Why are all these clowns showing up? What is the meaning? Why are they following me? As far as omens go, this can’t be a good one. Randomly seeing three clowns in one day with no circus or parade going on? That is effing weird. Enjoy your coulrophobia! Have a great Thursday! ~Phil

 

 

Throwback Thursday! Zombies Are Here? Never Fear!

CNN reported this week that the United States government has developed a “zombie preparedness plan”. It includes getting them all signed up for Obamacare by the end of the month. (I should probably just quit now. I’m pretty sure that’s going to be the best joke in this whole thing.)

CNN revealed that the government plan, titled CONPLAN 8888, was developed as a training tool and is not intended to be a serious attempt to plan for a world wide zombie invasion.  Well why the hell not? If our government, which is paid by our taxes, is going to develop a zombie preparedness plan I want a real plan, not an elaborate joke. You can’t tell me that if a presidential candidate said he was going to have a a plan in place to defend us from a zombie apocalypse, we wouldn’t elect him or her in a landslide. Heck, if a zombie ran for president we’d elect him. We elected George Bush didn’t we? Both of them.

zombie-apocalypse-477526

Here is an actual segment from the document: “This plan’s offensive branch (within Annex C) and Annex S (STO) details the neutralization (to render ineffective) of Zombie capabilities by denial, deception disruption, degradation, or destruction.”  First of all, someone in the government obviously is a big fan of alliteration or is a writer from Sesame Street.  “Today’s episode of The Walking Dead is sponsored by the letter D.”

Denial? Really? That’s part of the plan? When confronted by a Zombie how does that play out? “You can’t bite me!” Zombie shakes his head yes. “No you can’t.” Zombie shuffles away.  How about deception? How do you deceive a Zombie? “Hey, umm, you guys, OH MY GOD! LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!” Zombies turn heads and cornered human runs away to safety.  Degradation? We’re going to degrade the Zombies? I’m pretty sure they already feel badly about being dead. Is attacking their self-esteem really going to be effective?  “You may be about to bite me, but you’re ugly and you smell bad!” Zombie then shuffles away and cries silently in the bathroom. It’s like the plan was written by twelve year olds.

The plan is very thorough in that it does take into consideration several different kinds of Zombies that might occur such as: Pathogenic Zombies, Radiation Zombies, Evil Magic Zombies, (which sounds like a great name for a band), Space Zombies, which the document says are likely only to be a threat to “SATCOM services like DirectTV.” If Zombies take out my TV I am really going to be pissed. So pissed that I might even  degrade them. There are also definitions for Weaponized Zombies, Symbiant Induced Zombies, Vegetarian Zombies and Chicken Zombies. The only thing I would worry about is Chicken McNugget Zombies. Would they be better with sweet & sour sauce or barbecue?  Actually, zombie chickens are a real thing. Read this from Fox News in Dec. 2006.

As always, if you enjoy #ThePhilFactor and want to promote Zombie preparedness please share this like a Pathogenic Zombie virus by hitting the Facebook, Twitter, or re-blog buttons below. Have a great weekend! ~Phil

picture credit: http://www.dumpaday.com and joyreactor.com

Throwback Thursday! The Big Red Button

(July, 22, 2005) Is it just me, or does everyone else have an irresistible urge to push a big, red, button anytime you see one? I was at the hospital the other night because one of my mini-me’s had broken his finger in a dramatic kick-ball accident. While I’m waiting at the triage desk, I spot a big, red button on the wall behind the desk. The sign under it read, “Ventilation System Shut Down.” I suppose that’s there in case they suddenly discover they’ve got someone with Mad Cow disease and they need to quarantine the place ASAP. I swear it was all I could do to restrain myself from walking over there to push it just to see what would happen. I imagined blaring warning sirens going off and big, steel doors slamming down over all the exits as they sucked the air out of the room. I still wanted to push it though.

I remember back in high school I worked at a big store, and one time I was in the warehouse, which wasn’t where I worked, and I saw a big, red button on the wall. So I pushed it. A large section of the wall suddenly opened up. So I ran away.

I imagine that when I visit the White House I’ll probably be in the Oval Office chatting with the President about the relative merits of interns, when suddenly my head would swivel violently, having noticed the big, red button on the President’s desk. It would probably be too late for the President to stop me as I said, “Hey, what does this do?” as I simultaneously pushed it.

I think this is a genetically programmed urge because while at a restaurant once, one of my little guys couldn’t resist the urge to push the bar on the emergency exit door despite the sign which said, “Do not push. A loud alarm will sound.” Is it just me, or does anyone else have this or similar urges?

Yes, the date at the beginning of the post is correct. I was blogging in 2005. There were only six of us at the time. Have a great Thursday! ~Phil

TBT! Monk See, Monk Do

(05/29/2009) So I went to a blood lab to have my blood drawn to see if I’ve finally gotten my cholesterol level lower than my S.A.T. score. I dutifully handed the receptionist my paperwork and proceeded to the empty seat nearest the least objectionable looking person in the waiting room. The little, old lady sitting next to me knitting didn’t look like she’d be any trouble, although I swear she glanced approvingly at my ass as I sat down next to her. Just as long as she didn’t jab me with a knitting needle we’d get along fine for the next 15 minutes. And although she had a weapon, I was pretty sure I could take her in the battle for the shared arm rest.

The waiting room is nearly full and I think to myself, “This is going to be a bit of a wait.” I begin to scan the room looking for a good magazine or newspaper left behind. As my eyes roam, scanning the coat closet, the end tables, and the empty seats, I spot something a lot more interesting. Tibetan monks! I had to rub my eyes, refocus and look again to be certain I was seeing what my brain had just told me was there. Sitting across from me, swaddled in orange off-the-shoulder robes and sandals were two Tibetan monks. What?!!? I don’t exactly live in an international metropolis. I live in an average American suburb in upstate New York. Upstate. Not New York City. I’d have to drive 5 hours to get to New York City. There just are not Tibetan monks wandering around my neck of the woods very often.

The monks and I regarded each other warily. There was two of them and one of me. They didn’t appear to be armed, but with those loose robes it was impossible to tell what they might be concealing. I gave them a nod and a slight flex of my biceps as I folded my arms across my chest. If there was going to be any trouble I wanted them to know exactly what they were up against. As the phlebotomist called their names in turn, the monks each went back and returned a few minutes later with a small bandage on the inside of one arm. I was still in my seat, arms folded, maintaining my gaze. By now, I was sure that these two knew just who the alpha-dog in this waiting room was. They spoke to each other in hushed tones as they exited the waiting room. I don’t know Chinese, but I think I heard the words “Phil Factor” just before the door shut behind them. I breathed a sigh of relief as it appeared that the confrontation was over and I thought to myself, “I hope those two morons realize that after Labor Day, the sandals and off-the-shoulder look is completely out of season.”

Have a great Thursday! ~Phil

TBT! My Green Heaven

This is a funny coincidental post because when I posted this 11 years ago I had moved 6 months earlier, and now, synchronicity, I’m about 6 months out from having moved again.

(5/31/06) Some of my long time blogging friends may remember that I moved about 6 months ago. I live in a nice suburban neighborhood with identical houses and identical yards as far as the eye can see. The electric and phone lines are buried underground so as not to spoil the picturesque view with ugly poles and wires. Every morning when it’s quiet and the streets are empty I look out my window to see the sun rise over “my” neighborhood. As I take in this view I feel like the king of suburbia. It’s perfect. A little too perfect. In the evening couples walk their dogs and greet each other cheerily. Joggers and roller bladers cruise the streets looking healthy and wholesome. Kids play street hockey and skateboard. If a Hollywood director wanted to cast a neighborhood to play the picture-perfect, average American neighborhood, my neighborhood would be a shoo-in for the part. There’s just one problem. Everyone else’s lawn.

As far as I can tell, every other homeowner in my neighborhood is psychotic about their lawn care. I have no idea how anyone with a full-time job can devote as much time to landscaping and grooming their lawns as the people do. The thing is, I don’t even see them doing it. It’s like they’ve got Edward Scissorhands living in their homes and he only comes out at night. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no slacker. I mow my lawn often enough that if I parked my car in the yard I could still find it the next day. I once owned a pool table whose surface wasn’t as smooth as these people’s yards. And it’s not just the grass. It’s the little scenic settings they create. Little benches in a tiny grove of trees in the corner of the yard. A rustic wheelbarrow with flowers growing out of it just so. Not a tree or bush is without perfect little border blocks surrounding it. It’s like I’m living in The Stepford Neighborhood. Talk about peer pressure! I’m afraid that if I skip mowing my lawn one week they’ll form a lynch mob and storm my suburban castle with torches and pitchforks, being careful not to step on any landscaping on the way over. I refuse to cave into this peer pressure to meet their insane standards of lawn care. I do have a plan though. You knew I would didn’t you?

I’m going to buy lawn fertilizer. Lots of it. No, not for my yard you idiot! For theirs! At night while my neighbors sleep, exhausted from another day of landscaping, I’ll be out there fertilizing their lawns, causing them to grow at an astronomical rate. Their lawns will be like those Play-Doh people where you can see the hair growing right out their heads. There will be no way they can keep up! And I’ll be planting weeds everywhere, even if I have to pollinate them myself. I’ll have the best yard in the neighborhood within a week! (pause for maniacal laughter) This should work perfectly, unless Edward Scissorhands catches me.

Have a great Thursday! ~Phil