Five things that ruined my Christmas

Okay, let me make things clear. I’m too old a person, too sane, too reasonable to believe that roughly 2000 years ago, an all-powerful deity decided to send His Only Son to save the world and all that jazz. I’m too old a person, too sane, too reasonable to believe in stuff like heraldic angels, donkeys that know their way to the stable, bright stars that act like beacons for lost wandering magi.
But I do celebrate Christmas. Nope, it’s not because I am a handful of brain cells short of being sane (though my brother would definitely argue that THAT’s the thing). It’s just that, it’s sorta nice to strip your cynicism for a year and really, really celebrate with people who matter the most, giving them gifts and at least letting them know they matter. Once a year. Nice. (Hey, come on. Gimme a break. I ain’t a complete Scrooge).

But still, there are really things that test your patience, that make you want to hand out little Darwin trophies so that we would finally be rid of idiots that litter the populace. And so to the countdown of things that nearly ruined my belief that despite the puppets in the Senate and that aberration called mutant called Jok-jok Bolante, there’s still good in the world:

1. That annoying neighbor who makes it a point to share his music. Look, I only take this much amount of Christmas carols before I go into seizures and slit my wrists. And I even have less tolerance for those Mariah Carey bastardizations and those Britney Spears bubblegum ditties. Those things just make me wanna puke my guts out, one organ at a time. But my neighbor? Why he just feels compelled to pop in carols, Mariah Carey and N’Sync CDs and put the volume way up, so that people within the 1-km radius could hear his music. I can stand the guy (couldn’t see him anyway. His house is draped in heavy curtains… couldn’t care less if he spends the day jerking off to WWF posters or lighting candles on a pentagram while sacrificing goats); I just can’t stand the music.

2. Kids who dart in and out of traffic in downtown area for Fear Factor-ish caroling. Um… nothing against the kids, you hear? And never mind the misanthropes who feel that caroling is just a legit form of mendicancy. No, I’m talking about the risks that the children are exposed to just to earn a few pesos per car (hopefully). Tragically, one of them kids met his end, squished beneath the tires of a pick-up truck that was trying to navigate the labyrinthine streets along Central Market. His mother told us the kid was trying to earn a few pesos so that he could have something to buy for his Kris Kringle. The fact that the “future leaders of our nation” are reduced to begging in the streets at Christmastime, no less – well, that just puts a damper to things, huh?

3. Outrageous product placements at the malls. Coke (hyperacidity anyone?), McDonald’s (McFats and McHeartAttacks – not very palatable options, huh?), Jollibee (Still McFats and McHeartAttacks – maybe minus the Mac), Purefoods (jamon de bola drowning in lard - yummy), San Miguel (pickle your liver for free!) and a hundred other MNC products that reek of shameless capitalism.

4. Cheap relatives. Okay, I understand the economic pie is skewed, way skewed and favors those on top. But puh-lease, spare us the opportunity for a one-raised-eyebrow moment (my good friend, The Turk is soooooooooooooo good at it) by re-gifting stuff and sending us stuff that we gave you. I once received a stuffed pig from a relative which upon closer scrutiny was the stuffed pig I gave her kid the year before. The gift even has the same tensil and wrapping paper. GRRR!

5. Humbugs. I have friends who don’t celebrate Christmas at all. And I know of people from different faiths who don’t believe in Christ (they celebrate Chanukah instead, or stuff like that). But, please don’t be such cheap a-holes you wouldn’t pay the requisite 13th month pay because, well, you don’t celebrate the season. It’s one thing not to believe in God, it’s another to actually exploit people. So, cough up the dough already!

Have a blessed Christmas everybody!

Note: Cartoon Courtesy of Flickr

Mayor Belt-Holder

Who’s that guy holding Manny’s belt? He’s the mayor of a Negros city, right?
Ah, the indignity we are willing to endure just so we can bask on the reflected glory of the Pambansang Kamao (not related to the Pambansang Ibon – though the resemblance is remarkable).
Heard from the grapevine that this mayor had a habit of transferring loyalties at the last minute. He was known to have ditched his patron oh so many years ago because of his political ambitions.
I’m betting he’s gonna transfer to Oscar Dela Hoya’s side at the last minute once he knows what Dela Hoya really looks like.
I’m not implying anything. I’m just saying. ‘Nuff said.

Funny Quotes and the Hero that is Manny Pacquiao

Quotes that crack me up:
Overheard. An exchange between an isaw vendor and her customer.
“Hey, how’s your lola? Do you still get to visit her?”
“I go there everyday sometimes.” (Eyng… huh?)

In a religious recollection:
“Tell me who you are and I’ll tell you who you are.”
“Birds of the same flock feather together.”
“I need that blue yellow pad!”
“I looooooooooooove David’s wieners!”

Outside a native restaurant:
“Hey… ka watch na kamo Seabiscuit?”
“Si Biscuit? Sino na man?”

In Wowowee.
“May puso ka Willie!” Yeah, right… he has such a big heart he beats his wife to a pulp. And he readily exploits people’s poverty, promising rewards if anybody calls him “Gwapo”. Such a big heart, huh?

In a seminar:
“We know that when Manny Pacquiao fights, he fights for us, for the nation.”
Only an idiot would believe in this whopper. Yeah, Manny Pacquiao is a great fighter, defeating Mex boxers who are all way past their prime anyway. He punches well, yes. But a hero? Please, hand me the barf bag. Let’s not get too hung up and emotional with this, please. I’ve seen heroes sacrificing their lives for the country, and so far, on the hero level Pacquiao is not even that close. I would luuuuuuuuuuuurv to see the day when our “hero” fights without the prize money.
How can you call somebody a hero when he lives in a multi-million mansion while his father languishes in squalor? How can you call somebody a hero when he earns billions from his fights, but hardly spares a cent for an impoverished fan from the provinces (I know this one personally, because the call he turned down came from my husband, a broadcaster who was approached by the dead fan’s family for help. My husband can still hear Manny’s voice as he gruffly turned his assistant, “Sabihin mo tulog ako”. Idiot. He was partying, and he could hardly spare a cent for a poor man’s coffin. Again, idiot.).
So yes, call Manny a great boxer. But a hero? Heck, no.

Of Emo and the Vamps

What’s with the emo rev? First, it infects music. Now, the vampires.
Grrrrrr… Okay, take a good look at the pic right there. Cake make-up, cheesy lipstick, dark eyeshadows. Stupid vapid vampire.  
I, along with the rest of the family, watched the movie that has the tween set swooning, sighing and cracking their heads on the vinyl theater floors. Of course, I’m talking about Twilight, that over-rated movie about gorgeous (?) vampires with really bad make-up.
While the girl at my back was shrieking, my seven-year-old niece beside me was yawning, “This is not creepy, this is boring.”  
Right on, gurl! Okay, okay… I get it. The movie was all about (supposed) repression and abstinence, so I did the next best thing. Maybe I was just missing something. So I DLed the book.
And boy, was I surprised. The book was written in Sweet Dreams prose, with a lot of references to how “penetrating” and “tantalizing” the eyes of the main biter was (can’t remember what the name was – sounded Irish. And really, I don’t care.) Look, if you have a vampire book and the vampires are as interesting as the mold forming in my three-day enchilada, how good can that get?
So in frustration, I went home and watched Keyser Soze instead, a character exponentially more menacing than an emo neckbiter.  At least, my cerebral cortex wasn't left numb for two hours...

Seven Legionnaires + 1: The Tale of Internet Addiction

Or Who Lurks in the Dark When You’re Online

Note on photo: The Magnificent Seven, yes... the Legionnaires? Um... no...

Why is it that crack addicts and computer aficionados are both called users?
That query has been a staple of stand-up comics and fire-and-brimstone preachers of the Jerry Falwell kind, you know the kind that sees the hand of the Devil in Atari, NES, Tinky-Winky and Barney.
The Teletubbies and Barney aside, quite a ruckus has been raised regarding the evils of the new evil: online games. Yup… am talking about anything from Diablo to any of the RAs to WoW (if you don’t know any of this, stop reading. This article ain’t for you.)
Now, there are addicts, and there are addicts.
And then there’s the Seven Legionnaires. According to recent studies (mostly mine – hehehe), these Magnificent Seven has nothing to do with the Roman Empire and has everything to do with levels of addiction of experienced by the young people today. I’ve met them, mostly through online fora. I’m sharing the travails of the Seven Legionnaires to you. Who knows, you might know one of them. Or you could be one of them.
The Kid. The most adorable, loveable kid this corner of the Internet world. I just luuuuurv this kid. Has an over-developed right hemisphere, which kind of compensates for his lack of macho genes. Age, not certain. Looks 12, but has mental capacity of a 21-year-old. Maybe he’s 21. Maybe not. Cute to a fault. Staunch defender of the Creationism Theory. Plays spiritual adviser to lost, damned souls. And did I say I love this kid?
Back story: According to The Kid, he came from Harrogath. He decided to join the Seven Legionnaires because he wants to defend Mankind’s last stand from the dark elements. Asking around, I discovered that the Kid is actually good-looking, but in some way has displeased God, so he was cursed, trapped in a 12-year-old body. Or (if The Jock is to be believed) he was a Paladin, but he forged an unholy alliance with Baal as part of his sacrifice. So he was trapped in 12-year-old body. Not sure which is true.
Online Behavior: Plays fair in online games. Is usually OL, doing OL activities from 12 to 12, risking a lot from his sex life (if he has any) to his social life (he has a lot – most of which is done online). Goes offline only to take a bath and eat.
Mortality Rate: 75 percent. He still eats, but hey, you can never tell how addled the brain can get once it gets exposed to radiation 12 hours a day. Remember Chernobyl? Although I think that’s a different kind of radiation…

The Chick Magnet. Despite his sexual shenanigans, really a gentleman at heart. Quite liberal about views on women (character is more important than a hymen!). But quite conservative in certain areas (gays should be burned at the stake!). Quite attractive to girls (not this girl, though). Seen his pic. Looks androgynous. But I’ve received a lot of calls and e-mails from girls wanting to get laid by him. Sexual libido so potent, there’s not a virgin within a five-meter radius from him. Hmmm… I wonder why. Irrevocably neurotic. Scoffs at the Illuminati. Whatever that is. Hates crabs.
Back story. This charmer is a reformed online predator. Rumored to have given live human sacrifices before the altar of Asmodeus, the Lord of Lust. The Asshole calls CM a Pedophile. Now, Chick Magnet refused to divulge personal information about himself (no matter how fictitious), so I did my own research. Based on “sources”, he joined the Seven Legionnaires because of crabs. No, not the kind you are thinking of. The kind that lives in water. Yes. Giant ones. Seems like Big Giant Crabs invaded his village one day, destroyed his computer and made off with his wife and kids. That explains why he hates crabs.
Online Behavior. Plays fair, most of the time. Spends an average of five to 9 hours online. Opens his YM, only to leave it for some other things. Used to lurk online for sexual prospects. Has reformed since then.
Mortality rate: 30 percent. Points for being a reformed sexual offender.

The Turk. Classic tall, dark and handsome. Hottest among the Seven. Think a Roman Tom Cruise in his Top Gun days, ‘xcept The Turk’s taller. Two most important things in life: his formidable grandmother and his monthly online subscription to RA (or whatever is the IT game of the moment). As smart as he is handsome. Hates crab jokes. Hates jokes altogether. Obliviously ignorant to the swarms of girls drooling over his majestic presence. Very down-to-earth. Would have made a good husband, except he’s already married – to his computer.
Back story. Fought in the Crusades on Saladin’s side. Seduced the Queen and very nearly succeeded. Joined the Legion because he still couldn’t believe Richard the Lionheart could be so deceitful. Vows to retake Jerusalem at all costs. When he’s not fighting in The Crusades, he loans money to fellow-warriors at 20 percent interest per annum. He’s The Asshole’s whip, often admonishing the latter esp. in formal parties, “Asshole, don’t be yourself.”
Online Behavior: Plays with equal amounts of smarts, strategy and “no mercy” (just ask The Kid). Got bored with DOTA after he killed three characters with one stroke. Has propensity to cheat. Has been online for 36 hours at one time. Has a habit of trolling. Neglects to eat and attends to his personal effects esp. in a middle of an intense game. Despite good looks, remains painfully single because of his habit.
Mortality rate. 90 percent. As much as I hate to admit it (after all, who doesn’t love The Turk?), at the rate things are going, he ought to be dead by now. Which would send The Artist and dozens of girls grieving.

The Dark Prince. Easily my favorite character. Swings from Democrat to Republican in a blink of an eye. Woefully liberal and cynical, especially against Organized Religion and Politics, but quite homophobic. (See the swing from Left to Right?) Mind too difficult to fathom. A genius. A gentleman through and through. Haven’t seen him crack a smile. Not once. Sometimes too serious for his own good. But has a good heart. That’s important. One of those I would really miss when he’s gone.
Back story. Actually, I was too scared to ask him personally. The Kid tells me he was spawned in the hottest area in the center of the earth. Also goes by the name Mephistopheles, Baal and Beelzebub, although The Chick Magnet swears that The DP is Satan himself. He joined the Legion because he plans to take over the earth and throw down God one soul at a time. He lives presently with his adopted parents, after a group of archeologists dug him up. Has an adopted brother. (When he says, “My brother is an only child,” he’s actually telling the truth.) Not to be confused with Hellboy. Or Superman for that matter.
Online Behavior: Plays deceitfully, although his minion swears, “He’s just a master. Period.” Is vulnerable to sparklies from certain OL games. Spends eight hours online, but makes it a point log off at 11 pm. Good boy. Or shall I say, Good Devil.
Mortality Rate: 30 percent. Could have been lower, except for the sparklies thing.

The Asshole. Aka The Cool One. Notoriously right-wing. Voted Republican then, still votes Republican now. Often goes into protracted arguments with The Chick Magnet over his right-wing views on women. A “gentle” man. Sources say he’s gay, and his virulent homophobia is just a front. Can’t tell if it’s true. Biggest achievement to date: Chugging a bottle of beer in three seconds (does that account for the beer belly?). Small daily achievements: Annoying the heck out of people within the 15-meter-radius. Like his name implies, an arsehole. Has an unreasonable hatred against crabs.
Back story: Fought with Alexander the Great during the battle of Thermopylae. Or was that Leonidas? I’m confused. Anyway, according to rumors, one day Leonidas the Great called upon our hero over to his tent. The Asshole was not the same since. Joined the Legion to recover lost dignity.
Online Behavior. Always busy. Has propensity to go off line on you, even in the middle of chatting. Goes online for six hours. Maybe even less. Dabbles into sports too (real ones, not the ones involving a joy stick or a mouse).
Mortality Rate: 15 percent. He’s more into sports, anyway.

The Jock. Ah… model student. Two ways: Great abs, great attitude. Doesn’t make his relative poverty get in the way of getting a good education. Girl-crazy (aren’t they all?). He keeps a list of girls as prospects and keeps a Friendster account for the very same reason. He hits on every other girl he knows online (except this girl, for some reason), but always ends up dry. Maybe, he should take lessons from The Chick Magnet. He is into sports. Very down-to-earth. Very good-looking, patrician features. His bone structure is almost too feminine, prompting talks about sex change (hehehe). Middle-of-the-road politics. Could be naïve sometimes. Very likeable.
Back Story. The Lover of Shandelzare Silkwood. He went on a quest to avenge Shandelzare’s death, not knowing that his lover has already been risen from the dead. Forged alliance with one of them necromancers, so that he could blast Mortred (the gal who wasted Shandelzare) into an exploding corpse. Joined the Legionnaires for the very same reason.
Online Behavior: Rarely online (thanks Globe!). Is online long enough to chat for five minutes, then goes offline. Then online again. Then offline.
Mortality rate: 5 percent. Thanks to Globe.

The Artist. Has an over-grown right hemisphere. No left hemisphere. CAT scan startled doctors at the find. Often too busy with church-y activities (?). Great with guitars, good singing voice. Feeble jokes, but the rest of the Legionnaires laugh anyway. His face is funnier than his jokes… hahaha. Very likeable. Rumored to be The Turk’s lover (“You wanna eat my balut, Mr Turk?” “Don’t want to… your balut is too hairy!”). Musical choice very eclectic: From Fashionista to Christian rock, to BisRock (Baboy, anyone?).
Back Story: No back story. Just joined the Legion because of The Turk. His nationality is difficult to pinpoint. He’s obviously Pinoy because he knows balut, but looks Syrian. Could be Grecian-Filipino. He was once minstrel in the court of Leonidas but left in disgust when he witnessed what happened to The Asshole. Still owes The Turk some money (not sure if that’s the reason for his attachment.)
Online Behavior: Intermittent appearance. Is online only when he has no other things to do, no drums to bang.
Mortality rate. 5 percent, thanks to the banging.

And now, the Plus 1.

The Clown. Sports nut. Car and basketball fanatic. Once had abs to rival Leonidas, now, it’s mostly beer (or Pepsi) belly. The Original Chick Magnet. Barack supporter (Go! Barack!) Drowns himself in Pepsi every day. Great jokes (DOH! He’s a clown!) Musical preferences eclectic: from country to jazz to Dave Matthews Band. Would kill anybody who would say a bad word vs the band. Jordan hater; LeBron lover (NOT that kind of lover). Love this guy!
Back story: The Clown originally served the court of one of the Louis until he (the Louis, not the Clown) lost his head. Now, he can’t get away from his day job, so he spends hours entertaining the Legionnaires. Often sits in front of The Turk, learning strategies from the master. Joined the Legionnaires… to entertain them.
Online Behavior: Goes online for four, five hours. Surfs mostly sports news, porn and stand-up comedies. Remember the games in the old Nintendo family computer? A lot of those games have a bonus round where the player can pile up points without the risk of losing the character’s life. He doesn’t pile up the points. Instead other players pile up points because of him… yes, he’s that bad despite the teachings of The Turk.
Mortality Rate. 25 percent. Should be only 1 percent, but chances of survival lowers because of his diet (The guy eats everything that doesn’t move! That’s why The Kid has to move incessantly whenever The Clown is around, else The Clown might take him for something edible.) Great survival rate for a guy who can’t play.

World Food Month

You know what's the other name for October?  

It's World Food Month according to the UN.  'Course, the month will not be complete without my mentioning it.  So in memory of the millions suffering from famine, the peasants who have barely enough food to eat while their masters dine in caviar chased by Monsieur Perignon, I commemorate the month in their honor, along with this legendary pic from one of the lamented members of the Bang-Bang Club, Kevin Carter.  It's a heartbreaking picture of a famine-stricken Sudanese toddler crawling her way to the UN Feeding Center while a vulture waits in the background.  The picture had bothered the beejesus out of my seven-year-old niece who was bugged by the fact that a child that young might actually die because of sheer lack of food.

So the next time you dismiss sweet spaghetti as a mere "bastardization" of past-uh, the next time you start tapping your gag reflex just so you could fit into your size 2 5o1s, the next time you order a second helping in a eat-all-you-can buffet (and throw the rest  to waste anyway), think of the child who has neither of those luxuries.   

In honor of the penniless, foodless people all over the world, this is for you.  

MassKara Chronicles: The MassKara Queen Spectacle

“Aargh!” “Eurgh!” “Aaaaaaaaahhhh!”
Common reactions from the  House of Horrors, starring decapitated heads and faux human entrails that look suspiciously like last night’s chicken dinuguan.
“Aargh!” “Eurgh!” “Aaaaaaaaahhhh!”
Common reactions at SM mall during the press presentation of the MassKara Queen candidates for the year starring… well, I don’t want to sound sexist but I don’t want to lie either. Let the reactions talk.
Anyhooo… I was one of those invited for the press presentation. There was one girl who keeps on waving her arm as if presenting an Inno Sotto gown, except with the frequent way that she did it, you might think there’s a huge boil growing on her underarm (there was none, thank God). I slipped in and out of a coma throughout the presentation, just coming to long enough for me to vote for the girl who I thought has “It”. Jan Maricris Vega, a La Sallian student, won as Darling of the Press. She was also Best in Question in Answer. She wasn’t particularly witty; her answer would get lost in a sea of witty bon mots from past pageants (“High tide or low tide?”), but she was the only one who managed to answer the question without mangling the English language. At the end of the show, though, I sort of wanted to take back the vote after the girl’s rather noisy fans started screaming like idiots. Minus points for bringing imbeciles to the show… the morons don’t know how to behave in public. My over-excited pitbull, currently diagnosed with ADHD, displayed more decorum. 
And on with the show… Nothing remarkable happened, really. No Melanie Marquez-ish “long-legged legs” to speak of, nobody wants to join the education department just so she could save the diminishing tarsiers.  
The girl just paraded with their flight attendant smiles. One of the girls even tried to affect an American accent (why?), and the host referred to judge Chrysee Semillano as “Creasy” (like the Denzel Washington character in Man on Fire. Okay, now repeat after me: Cry-see. Now say that 10 times over so you won’t forget.) 
Highlight of the event: A performance from an artist who wore nothing but thin boxer shorts. A couple of things made a surprise appearance as he kept on crossing and uncrossing his legs. And I’m not saying what. Let’s just say I’ve had bad dreams for three nights now, my dreams always featuring giant b- spheres chasing after me. (EEEEEEEEKKKK!) 
And now a compendium of knee-slappers from the previous pageants that I covered (with my bitchy remarks in italics afterwards):

Q: What makes you proud of Bacolod?
A: I am proud of Bacolod because it has a lot of beautiful natural resources. (What are you referring to, darling? The yellowish beaches of Punta Taytay or the murky Magsungay River?)

Q: What do you intend to do after this?
A: After this, I would like to live a simple lifestyle and be a fashion model at the same time. (Honey, you want a simple lifestyle? Ditch your modeling dreams, don a saffron toga and join the Dalai Lama in Tibet.)

 Q: What do you do during spare time?
 A: I go to a silent place in myself and do some soul-searching. (How… um… transcendental.)
 
Q: What do you think is your best asset?
 A: My legs, because the color of my legs is fair. (Huh?)

 Q: Which would you rather have, happiness or gratification?
 A: Gratification.
 Q: (Taken aback.) Why? What is gratification for you?
 A: Gratification is… gratitude. (Is that it? *Stalks away to look into the dictionary*)

Q: What is your favorite among your five senses and why?
A: My sense of sight, because they make me see the beauty of the world and of God’s gentle creatures. (Where have you been, honey? Have you just emerged from your self-exile in Avalon or something?)

And of course, this gem from the recent batch of candidates.

Q: Why did you join the contest?
A: SO that I can gain friends and boost my confidence. (Yeah… being paraded in front of an audience on the look-out for an unsightly peklat must do wonders for your ego.)

It’s too early to tell who would really win. Not when, as a friend puts it, “there ain’t no beauty in this pageant”. I disagree. One or two girls look half-way decent.  As for the rest… well… nothing to say except one of them resembles a refugee from a starvation camp (eat up, girl!).
Guess we will just have to wait come pageant night, huh? Then we can see which really deserves the crown, and which one would let us hope we are spared of the farce unraveling before our eyes.

Jump the Shark Special: Iron Chef America

Saw re-runs of the Iron Chef America the other night. My eyeballs were hurting from rolling too much at the sight of Marc Dacascos’ Chairman trying to out-camp his “uncle” (“And the secret ingredient is… *whish-whish* ONIONS!” I was half-expecting fires to come out of his nostrils, but no such luck.)  
But nothing inspires me more than Bobby Flay. He’s the George Bush of cooking. He has proven that a guy that can’t cook could be an Iron Chef. Way to go, Bobby!

The MassKara Chronicles: Travesty of the First Order

Talk about a travesty.  
Look, aren’t festivals supposed to be celebrations of something good? The pagans in pre-Christian times at least know how to celebrate these things. They celebrated when the harvest was good. When a new leader was born. When the chief screwed one of his daughters.
Whatever.
At least, there was a valid cause for celebration.
And now the MassKara Festival. It was first celebrated because MV Don Juan sank, bringing along with it an important figures of Negros, including a scion of a political family in Bacolod. I would like to think that the people celebrated because the city is one member short of a tyrant, but heck no. That would be purely delusional. Instead, the leaders grieved because of the loss. And all these at the time that the sugar industry was also going the way of MV Don Juan.  
That was a double whammy for the elite in Negros. One of them died, and the industry that paid for their mansions, luxury cars and Chanels was in deep sh*t. So what to do?  
Why celebrate! Give masks to the people! Smiling masks! To hide the grief!
Don’t know about you, but when my pockets are empty, and somebody I love just died, I don’t pop out the champagne (or the Coca-Cola – hehe). I would find the means to work harder, mourn the dead, and bury them. (And when you come to think of it, what if Mr Scion survived? What if only the common tao were killed in the tragedy? I don’t think we would even have the MassKara festival. Nobody grieves for the nobodies except their fellow nobodies).
That’s why, come October, I really don’t feel the need to celebrate along with the rest of the city. How can I, when I remember what the festival was all about?  
As I said, a travesty.

Namets!: A Taste of Negros

Negros is a diabetic’s nightmare.
Whoever invented the piaya, the pinasugbo and the Napoleones must have been trying to exact revenge against diabetic bully, hoping that in a roundabout way, the bully could be done in by hyperglycemic shock.
And it’s not just the desserts that have earned their reps for being killers. There’s our cansi and the chicken inasal. Both not complete without a generous of layer of grease.
Negrenses, after all, like their food two ways: sweet or greasy. Or both.
Either be a diabetic, or have high blood pressure. Or both.
The Negrenses’ love for food is the stuff of legends.
It ain’t exactly surprising then, that somebody had thought of making a movie about food IN Negros. And who can do it better than somebody who has a feel of the province, a true-blue, proud as heck Negrense, Jay Abello?
Yup, he’s the same guy who brought us Ligaw Liham and who is now slowly but surely creating buzz because of his new film, Namets!, a finalist to this year’s Cinemalaya Festival. Namets! (yes, that’s with an exclamation point) is written by fellow Negrense Vince Groyon, he of The Sky over Dimas Fame, himself an astute observer of the quirks of the elite in Negros.
Namets!, for the uninitiated, stars Christian Vasquez as Jacko and Angel Jacob as Cassie, two not-exactly-star-crossed lovers. Just a couple of chefs who share the same passion for cooking. Somewhere between the lumpia ubod and the cansi is love waiting to happen.
Abello, in an interview with IT Magazine, said the title Namets! was coined by Groyon himself.
“[E]veryone loved it,” he recalls, seeing that the word has a rather naughty ring to it. It works marketing-wise, Abello says, and it helped that it roused the curiosity of non-Hiligaynon speakers.
People who have seen the movie swore the food was the big star in the movie. Worth watching, they said, was the chemistry of its two lead stars. It’s a love story. With food. And Abello has no pretensions about his intentions when he shot the film. No Gallaga-ish dissection of the elite in Negros society. No Freudian analysis of the peasant struggle.
It’s a straightforward love story. Period.
In fact, Abello pretty much sums it up: “A no angst, nothing to say movie -- a popcorn-date-movie.”
The director points out that, after Ligaw Liham, people had been asking him why he hadn’t done a movie in the Hiligaynon language. The movie was his sort of answer to those pesky questions.
“I wanted my second movie to be in our dialect… And I wanted to do something commercial,” he said. Fusing food into the plotline seems like “a no-brainer”, given the way Negros takes pride in its food.
And it definitely helped that he worked with Negrenses, especially Vasquez and the MAN himself, Peque Gallaga.
Abello describes Vasquez as “wonderful and underrated” while he has nothing but praises for Gallaga, calling the director a “master”.
“(Christian) is very hard-working, very disciplined, very passionate about what he does, and very open to direction. Oh, and he really does his homework, he really works on his role. It was so easy to work with him. He gave so much to Namets that I can't even take any credit for his work on Namets,” he said. As for Gallaga, whom he fondly calls Direk Peque, Abello describes a “tedious” preparation the likes of Tom Hanks usually puts in his roles (remember the gauntness in Philadelphia? The ridiculous mullet in the Da Vinci Code?).
Gallaga, he says, “…studied his role to the point that it was his idea to cut his hair, and shave his mustache -- and give a totally new look to his role. And that takes a lot of commitment.”
What Abello appreciates most was the very non-intrusive way that the legendary director carries himself on the set.
Gallaga had been “very collaborative and very respectful. He doesn't go to the set as a director or teacher, he really respects the people in charge and he's there as an actor and collaborator. It's amazing.”
No J.Lo ego there. No prima donnas on the set. Which is a good thing, Abello says, because it made his work a whole lot easier.
GOING MAINSTREAM
Meanwhile, Abello is keeping himself busy directing a show for TV5.
“That is as mainstream as I can get,” he said. He keeps an open mind about going mainstream, although as he says, “there are no offers yet.”
Still, Abello maintains he has a soft spot for indie filmmaking. There is, after all, something liberating about not having to kowtow to studio’s wishes about how an effing movie has to end. How many mainstream films have been emasculated just so it would fit the commercial formula?
The director rightly observes that in the indie circuit, stories that are deemed too “uncommercial” by big studios are tackled by indie filmmakers.
“I think that the fact that indie films are not being dictated so much by formula or the pressure to earn back the producers investment, makes for a purer environment on the set of making a feature film where all the artists are plainly drawn by the art. And so-- the initiative in this arena is far richer and deeper, thus giving the movie a lot of love so-to-speak, which in some weird way gets translated on screen,” he says.
Aye, aye Direk!
Never mind the mainstream project (for now, at least).

Bring out the popcorn. Namets! is rolling by.

* This article will appear on IT Magazine this month.

CTE1: Buy Me!

Remember back in those days when you don’t have a cell phone? Or a PC? Or an iPod?
What would we have been eating before the McDonald’s introduced their Happy Meals?  
One thing’s for sure: Life has been a hell lot more complicated after we learned the simple joys of eating greasy hamburgers designed to clog our arteries, not to mention turning on those MP3 players that would most likely make our hearing go faster than Gramps’.
This is consumerism at its worst. Picture a typical day in my life. I switch on the TV to watch my favorite local channels, then discovered that the news on rice shortage has been cut because the program has to give way to an advertisement on how to make your hair shine. I turn off the TV and leave my house in disgust. I decide to walk downtown, only to be bombarded by Jericho’s smug mug, urging me to eat sardines with him. And on another corner, there’s Cesar Montano, telling me his sardines is better than Jericho.
To escape from it all, I decide to go to the movies! GASP! Kris Aquino telling me to eat corned beef in between screaming for her life! Jason Statham is caressing his Audi as though he’d rather sleep with it than his hot co-star! Sharon Cuneta treating her child to McDonald’s! THESE ARE MOVIES PEOPLE! But then again, on hindsight, movies have always been pandering to big-named advertisers. Nothing’s sacred: from cars to sparkling water.
So I go back to my house, where the bland model is telling me to get some hair exactly like hers…
I give up. I open my refrigerator for a glass of cold water. Then I saw a half-empty bottle of Coke. I took it instead, knowing “it’s the real thing”, more real than water perhaps. It might not be the choice of the new generation, but hey, I’m not that picky.
I prepared myself a peanut butter sandwich, from peanut “made with real peanuts”. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the taste of fake peanuts. Of course, none of it would be complete without a bag of my favorite potato chips (which I presume is made from real potatoes). I need my salt. And my potato chips has 50% sodium.
And then I go back to my miserable existence, letting advertisers sell me stuff I don’t really need.
 

Film App - Cinemalaya: Orasyon and Tulad ng Dati

My class had a chance to watch two films shown in this year's Cinemalaya. I thought: Cool, now they can see what indie really feels like, sounds like.
The first, Tulad ng Dati by Michael Sandejas is a semi-bio of The Dawn. While watching it, I thought that the film worked in so many layers and levels. In one level, could be viewed as a fanboy’s fantasy of what ought have happened had The Dawn stuck to their old sound, a sort of wish movie reliving the heyday of a band that had helped shaped Pinoy rock. In another level, it could also be seen as a parable of a man who simply refuses to change, while the people around him are changing and drifting away. It could even be seen as a fish-out-of-water tale, a man becoming alienated and cut off from things around him, becoming a stranger in his own universe.
Which was why I was kind of disappointed when I learned that Sandejas chose The Dawn mainly because “kabarkada ko sila”. And he made the film mainly because he was a fan. Dang, was I demystified.
Anyway, there is no doubt that the film was really well-crafted, with Sandejas experimenting on editing styles and mise-en-scenes that -- while not exactly new – lazy mainstream filmmakers shy away from.
My only qualms about the film was the way it spoonfed audiences with aphorisms, pounding the main message away until there’s nothing left of it but an onion paper-thin sheet.
And why, oh why does it have to have a snarling villain, a bald scenery-chewing actor who we know has to be a bad guy because of his sneer? I know he was supposed to represent the degenerates of the local band scene, the kind who think that shouting “putang ina” in their songs makes them edgy. Unfortunately, the actor playing him made the character one-dimensional.
Other than that, the film was really interesting and well-crafted. It generated a spontaneous applause from my class when it was shown here.
And now to Orasyon by Milo Tolentino.
The story delves on the Jungian theme, the duality of man. It’s a very simple narrative about a typical old lady stuck in her old colonial-style mansion, praying day in and day out to all the saints in heaven that her son would remember to visit her one day. Then, a stranger stumbled into her home one day, helped herself to some of the old woman’s rice cakes, and appointed herself as the maid-slash- bodyguard. Pretty soon, the stranger started to make her true colors show and eventually threw the old woman to despair, nearly driving the poor lady to kill herself. The film ended with the old lady going to confession (a beautifully shot scene of redemption), and the stranger-cum-(Satan’s) helper packing her things and leaving.
The film was shot with split-screens which, the director assured us, was meant to demonstrate the duality of things: the two contradictory sides that the characters were showing for instance. The lensing of the film was just masterful, and I appreciate that the film was shot entirely in black and white reinforcing the theme of the movie.
It was, however, a stark contrast with Tulad ng Dati, which tend to get talky on scenes that need quiet reflections. Here, the director seemed confident enough that the audience would figure out for themselves about what’s going, so even mysterious shots like the one with a male incubus in the closet was not fully explained.
As for the split screens – personally, I found myself distracted from an otherwise decent story. And for a horror movie, the film did not scare me one bit. Well, I didn’t squirm when I watched Saw and the yolky-eye bit in Hostel, so I must be one chromosome short of my scary gene.
But most of my class didn’t get it. Must be the reason why the applause was more tentative, more polite, huh?

Photo courtesy of www.pulse.ph

Film Appreciation: Zombie-fy Me

Is the George Lucas Syndrome contagious?
What, haven’t heard of it?
It is our absolute need to feed our mind with endless garbage, with images of Jar-Jar Binks and green little thingies that do absolutely nothing to our existence except, perhaps, make us realize that we are riding our very own Death Star (which is kind of cool, until we realize that the Star thing is just an illusion; Death isn’t).
Yeah… well, I’m talking about the fact that movies that fans throng to are mostly SFX extravaganzas so ostentatious, a single scene has as many extraneous characters as there are aliens in Tattooine. Not convinced? Think LOTR 2 and 3. The Harry Potters. The Phantom (GAG!) Menance. Pirates of the Caribbean 3. They are the Top-Grossing Movies of all time.
Talk about the ultimate nerd-dom wet dream.

But it’s not just the nerds. They can only buy so much pop corn and freebie light sabers. It’s the rest of us, trekking to movies that offer a little more than an exercise in testing how much aliens, pirates and homoerotic hobbits we can take.
Now, that kind of makes me think about what kind of movie-going public we have become that we would rather see such cinematic lobotomies as Star Wars and shun pensive, thoughtful, politically-charged movies like Syriana. We would rather see a Gungan with the most annoying accent this side of Naboo than challenge our minds about a enlightening film on non-existent WMDs.
What gives? Have we become so insulated, we would rather be entertained than watch a film that could challenge us intellectually? While corporations all over are busting unions and hawkish leaders are waging wars on imagined evils, would we rather be entertained by our movies rather than be roused politically?

People argue that we watch the movies in order to be entertained.
Fine, I have nothing against entertainment. I believe that one of the primary purposes of a movie should be to entertain us. In fact, one of the movies I’ve watched that I thoroughly enjoyed was The Incredible Hulk, which kind of hits low cerebrally but which is smashingly entertaining nonetheless (bad pun right there).
But a good movie should also be able to move us. A good movie is not just about special effects, good acting, good story-telling. A good movie should not insult our intelligence, pretend to be entertaining, then lull us all to sleep.
That’s just plain highway robbery.

Note:  Photos courtesy of IMDB

Suicide Girls

Jennifer Love Hewitt in all her cellulite glory. Dear Charlize literally turning the other cheek riddled with pock marks. Jennifer Garner looking like a very pale Skeletor.
Snap a picture of a celebrity sans the tons of foundation and concealer, and for sure ordinary people would lap it up (the picture, not the celebrity). Suddenly, La Lohan just doesn’t look so stellar, just some ordinary teener with too much money, drinking booze to perhaps forget the fact that she has once again forgotten to wear her underwear.
But, no. People are not just flogging the Pantyless Ones – audiences are also picking on real talents like America Ferrera for – of all things – her weight. It seems that for every Kate Winslet flashing a big middle finger against the anorexic standards of Hollywood, three Nicole Richies are tapping their gag reflexes, flashing a bony middle finger back at the plus-sized beauties.
The Jekyll-and-Hyde treatment of the ’biz has sent confusing signals to young women everywhere. While there is no doubt that Jordin Sparks is just plain gorgeous, fans of the Paris Hilton persuasion are poking fun at the AI alum, with one guy calling her “beefalo”, whatever the moron meant.
The fascination for Size Zero celebrities has set an impossible standard for impressionable teen-agers who, most unfortunately, look up at stars that they often see on the most visible media: TV and trashy magazines. So we have Nicole, Brit, Ashley, and Paris. (Never have any sympathies for them – come on – how can stars with no discernable talent earn more than me?!??! And they shave their heads and throw up to show people how disturbed they are, how they couldn’t handle fame that early – blah-blah. Give me your money, honey, and I can easily achieve world peace!).
None of these stars weigh 100 pounds. (And, may I add, none of them has been known to wear any underwear, either, but that’s digressing already.)
Is it a surprise then, that eating disorders are on the rise among young girls?
Is it a surprise, then, that teen-agers are now seeing their own parents’ shrinks?
Is it a surprise, then, that liposuction clients are getting a hell lot younger.
The new breed of Suicide Girls.
Now, Hollywood is definitely going to hell.

If I Were a Mutant (or the Top 7 Mutant Powers I Wish I Had)

“Who is your favorite superhero?”
I remember that growing up, the question has often inspired black-eyes and threats in the playground. “My superhero is Batman. He has a cool cape and his sidekick is kinda cute.”
“Superman will kick Batman’s ass!”
“Not if Batman has Kryptonite!”
“Wonder Woman will kick everyone’s ass…”
“She is an ass! What’s the point of riding an invisible jet when everyone can see you!”
“And what’s the point of wearing briefs that everyone can see!”
A scuffle would ensue, along with (not-so-serious) threats of blacklisting somebody from your birthday party. But that was when I was in elementary, where DC reigned supreme and even that hero who can talk to fishes was invariably hotter than the Webbed One.
Things changed when I was in high school. Thanks to prime-time cartoons, I was suddenly thrust into a sub-culture where teen-aged boys were jerking off to Rogue (the tacit implication that there is still a hot virgin somewhere in the US is just too much for any pubescent perv) and Jean Grey, while girls were keeping pictures of Scott Summers right there besides Donnie Wahlberg and the stars in Teen Beat.
As an adult, I have had more sympathies with Marvel Superheroes than with DC ones. I don’t know, but there is just something about a guy shooting something white and sticky at the sight of a gorgeous girl that makes the travails of Spidey and Stan Lee’s minions more grounded. How could you not cheer for a guy who has real worries like rent and paying the bills while he’s on the prowl looking for bad guys? I mean, as a working middle class, I hardly have time to sympathize with a billionaire playboy, given the problems of the wealthy in my country invariably would involve how to spend the money that the toiling masses have earned for them. Sorry Bruce Wayne, but you and your ilk just represent capitalism at its worst.
Anyhoo… it goes without saying that the Superheroes and Villains of Marvel have always fascinated me, especially the mutants. And this is what this article is all about. I’m compiling now a list of mutant powers that I would like to have, and the things that I would do if I have them.
(Note: The Dark Phoenix is NOT on the list… she has proven that uncontrolled powers can lead to the demise of billions of people -- now that would put me on the government’s wanted list and, and really, what’s the use of that much power when it starts to control you?)
7. Mystique. I’m going by the Mystique of the comics, not the movie. In the comics, I can’t remember her as being particularly limber, but she was certainly as hot as Rebecca “Don’t Call me Stamos” Romijn. Plus, she’s more than a hundred years old, according to mythos (hey – get me the water that she drinks – fast!). If I were Mystique, I would not get around naked – for Chrissakes! What’s my shape-shifting powers for? I might probably be tempted to rob a bank (assume the form of the President of said bank, kill President, then run off with the money while constantly changing forms– and the police will have a band of very confused witnesses in their hands). Ultimately, though, I might assume the form of the President, steal back the millions she had stolen from the Filipino people, get rid of the Cabinet (First, Secretary Gonzales, then Secretary Reyes), then resign as President. That would save people a lot of grief.
6. The Scarlet Witch. Okay… so she has the ability to alter reality. Imagine what one can do with such powers! The only thing is, the Scarlet Witch sometimes has no control of her powers – in fact Professor X has to shut her mind down at some point to prevent her from doing anymore damage. If I were the Scarlet Witch, I would concentrate hard so that Osama Bin-Laden would finally be captured, and President Bush NEVER became president. I can also resurrect Heath Ledger (but that’s just a small fantasy -- *sigh*) so that Hollywood becomes a much better place, at least artistically.
5. Quicksilver. Superhuman speed. Hah! I can easily escape from my pursuers. Having superhuman speed can really be useful, especially when you are stuck in traffic. But I placed this above The Scarlet Witch’s powers because Quicksilver’s powers are very manageable. I can finish a lot of tasks all at once, because Quicksilver can think as fast as he can move. I can also jump to the future if I want to (one of Quicksilver’s listed powers) and since I travel at supersonic speeds, I can travel over oceans, no problem. That also saves a lot of gas, if you think about it.
4. Storm. The Weather Witch. If I can control the weather, I can go to Africa and create tropical rainstorms to render the earth fertile so the famine in that part of the world will be alleviated. I can also reverse climate changes, go to Antartica and make the weather colder by several degrees to prevent the melting of the ice caps and possibly even prevent floods. Then, make my tropical country experience snow every now and then, so people will not have to migrate because of the sweltering heat. And zap really annoying people with lightning. Plus, I don’t need contact lenses to change eye color.
3. Wolverine. Hmmm… apart from the fact that Hugh Jackman looks extra-hot as Wolverine? Imagine what it would be like to be free from diseases, and your system practically immune to all kinds of toxins. With self-healing powers, I would virtually be indestructible, like adamantium. I could easily earn by posing as a model for beautiful skin (NO SCARS) and anti-ageing creams. Okay… I’ll not include the adamantium part, because it was artificially grafted into his skeleton. Besides, it had been stripped by the next mutant on the list.
2. Magneto. Much of the known weapons are made from metal, so having Magneto’s powers pretty much places off most risky scenarios. Opponent is some para-military man doubling as an armed goon? Fine. Use your powers. A knife fight? *Yawn* Disarm him, and quick. Really, I can face down an armed army and come off unscathed. Of course, I don’t have to do anything as flashy as tearing down a bridge so I can travel with style. I can just tear down a vault in some Swiss bank and finally distribute Marcos’ money to those who deserve it before the government can lay its sticky paws on it (if it hasn’t yet).
1. Professor X. Ah… the ultimate. Ethics step back. I can control people’s minds, figure out what they are thinking. And expose them as frauds if I want to. I can make the President resign. I can make the despots step down and self-destruct. I can make President Bush recite nursery rhymes until his unenlightened constituents can finally decide that he can’t lead the country, much less a corporation. The possibilities are mindblowing, really. I can be the walking Lacuna, Inc., erasing memories from people who do not want to remember certain things in the past. Wow. I can make millions as a shrink that way. I can even make Secretary Reyes forget that he is the Energy Secretary (although, with the way he is performing now, I don’t think that would be necessary).
Runner-ups: Jean Grey. Gambit (making objects explode… cool – who needs Tyler Durden when you have Gambit?). And Spider-Man. Okay, he’s not a mutant, but his powers are at par with the rest of them. Hehehe…

Lobo-tomized ABS-CBN

Is it safe to assume that network giant ABS-CBN has run out of creative ideas? If so, they better hire a new creative team pronto.
They’re not just ripping off successful gimmicks of the competition, they are also ripping off not-so-popular, straight-to-video movies that at least four persons have seen.
I’m talking about Lobo, the insanely successful tele-series about a hot white she-wolf (played by Angel Locsin). What little I have seen convinced me that it was ripped off from an obscure film titled Blood and Chocolate. It also tells a story about hot white she-wolf and her attraction to a human hottie (cue Piolo’s role here). In the end, she was forced to decide between her community of wolves (led by dark wolf Olivier Martinez) and the human got in the way.
My doubts were confirmed by a cousin, a pirated DVD nut, who also saw the obscure film (which was packaged as one of those “in-ones” things – 10-in-1, 20-in-1). She has her copy of Blood and Chocolate in a six-in-one DVD package (meaning, six movies in one DVD).
“There are scenes that are straight from the movie,” she said in disgust.
What’s next, an orphaned boy wizard with a lightning bolt scar? Or, to skirt some copyright infringement cases that might follow, a coming of age story about a girl who discovered her lupine qualities on the onset of puberty when she was savagely attacked by a wolf (ala Ginger Snaps).
Or maybe a story about the murderous kama-kama (dwarf) possessively guarding his horde of gold.
Really, I never thought I’d see the day that we would be borrowing myths from the West. Maybe, people are just tired of good ol’ siokoy and tikbalang, so we have to borrow mythical creatures from other countries.
Nessie, anyone?

TOP FIVE ACTORS WHO OUGHT TO RETIRE

5. Al Pacino. Dear Al. Acting with Keanu Reeves must have trautamized him – and hard. Really, how could you explain his career choices for the past 10 years? Quick, give me one, just one effing movie that he starred in where he is not channeling a crack addict from Hell’s Kitchen. I understand actors have to pay the bills, but Gigli? 88 minutes? The last decent film he had was Carlito’s Way, and that was when the dinosaurs walked the earth. And really, how many people have watched 88 Minutes – a movie so bad, studio execs immediately shoved it under 50-cent bins in video stores. As a fan, it was painful watching Pacino unravel right before your eyes. He looks like my grandfather who doesn’t know where his pee bottle is, and he absolutely needs to go. He looks lost, as though taking directions from cue cards that his director left behind, so he doesn’t know where the heck he was supposed to go. Or maybe it’s because he just realized he is, again, in a bad film and he was utterly bewildered where his once brilliant career was going.
4. Ben Affleck. He peaked too early in his career. His last box-office hit was Pearl Harbor, and he was horrible in it. And then, the movies nobody came to watch. Paris Hilton’s Chihuahua, Tinkerbell, has more online searches. The only way his handlers can ensure that the public won’t forget about him was to get his pic and his entangled love story with Supreme Skank J.Lo in all the trashy papers, right there beside Mary Kate Olsen’s anorexia and La Lohan’s boob job. *Sigh* He better get some serious advice from Matt. But then, Matt has talent talent, and Ben has… Jennifer Garner.
3. Robin Williams. His filmography is, I have to admit, evenly distributed. He started as a wacky funnyman, and the audience was willing to dismiss his misses (Flubber) and concentrate on what he does best (ad libs – his Genie is the best sidekick this side of the animated universe – yup, even above Donkey). Then, he branched off nicely enough into drama and thriller, showing that he’s not afraid of being cast against type. And all of his efforts are crushed under the weight of RV. Time to sign those retirement papers, Mr Williams.
2. Justine Timberlake. C’mon. He should have taken his cue from Britney. These singers should stick to what they do best. Nobody can be J.Lo (sing shitty, profitable songs and star in equally shitty, profitable movies). Stick to singing Justine, and leave the acting to veterans like… Madonna. And this brings us to…
1. Tom Cruise. Okay. His last five movies raked in mega-millions in the box office. But for the sake of humanity, he should retire. He is Scientology’s worst enemy. People who have second thoughts about the sanity of Scientology members would simply look at Mr Cruise to erase all doubts. People with that kind of mental soundness shouldn’t be making any more movies. They should find themselves a nice retirement home and private nurse. And that's me being kind.

A lesson in Spartan history

I must brush up on me Spartan history.
Watching HBO while nursing a beer, I learned the following history lessons while watching 300:
* Spartans, as a rule, scream. It doesn't matter whether they are discussing strategy, giving orders, or making sure that the snoozing enemy won't wake up -- they have to bust their lungs to get their message across. The better to show 'em who's the Alpha Male, eh? Or is that just a case of hammy acting?
* Spartans have leather hides. They fight naked, with nothing but a cape to protect them from the elements and the enemy's thrusts. All the better to show them those abs, huh?
* Spartans invented the tag team -- thereby introducing the very first love teams.
* Spartan men cry.
* All films on Sparta suck.
'Nuff said.

WahahahhahahAAAAA!

Speaking of which, I was laughing with maniacal glee the other night. I was watching House of Wax, that atrocious film with atrocious acting (complete with the requisite black guy who, you know, would get killed first, because that's how the rules in the perverted horror universe works), skanks who can't afford a decent shirt to cover them all up, and Jared Padalecki. Somebody should have warned him that his skills against the supernatural forces won't work with twisted, faceless, lost mama's boys.
The best thing was that mid-way through the film, Paris Hilton was killed! WAHAHHAHAHHAHA! It was a dream come true for me, watching the bitch getting the most ridiculous death in cinematic history.
Still keeping my fingers crossed the real person would meet the same fate. And then I'd celebrate! WahahhaHHAHAHA!

Paris Hilton Phone

Brother got himself a new cellphone, christened it Paris Hilton. When asked, he said it looks flashy, but it doesn't do anything else except suck. And it has a rather small memory. It doesn't do anything else except send and receive messages. I want to ask him if it says "That's hot," but decided not to.
Still betting that Paris Hilton the phone is a lot smarter than the real deal, though.

Suicidal?

Heard from a friend that the cousin of a cousin twice removed has a friend with a neighbor (yeah, yeah... you know how convoluted grapevines are) who committed suicide after hearing the song Beautiful Girls. You know, that vapid song with the (repeated lyrics) "You got me suicidal, suicidal when you say it's over..."
Apparently, the poor kid was into something when he killed himself. Really, how big a brain do you have when a rather innocuous song about a village flirt can drive you nuts enough to kill yourself?
"What is the world coming to?" my friend, who was separated by at least four degrees from the kid, moaned. She was, like everyone else, blaming Sean Kingston for the pointless death of the poor kid.
Yeah. My heart breaks for the moron.
Talk about accountability. Or the lack of it. Blame pop culture for every single f*ck-up that has happened in some random kid's life. Blame an inane song for a suicide. Now, don't get me wrong. I have far less sympathies for the purveyors of pop, consumerist culture that have now turned everybody into zombies (Darn... George Romero is a visionary!), mindless drones that would make the Cher character in Clueless sound like Kafka. I do blame pop culture for the insidious ways it has employed to corrupt the minds of impressionable children.
But then again, we have a choice. Fight the system or be part of the herd.
Your choice.
I've made mine.
And no amount of Rihanna songs can convince me to put a shotgun in the head just because some beautiful boy says it's over.

Sykes, Yikes!

What are the chances of living a corporate life and then getting yourself detached from reality?
Um… maybe 80 percent?
That’s already a modest estimate, I think.
I learned that when the MassComm class I was handling – and I in tow --- went to an exposure trip to Manila, a trip that was so f*cked up, well-behaved colegialas were cussing like lumberjacks. (More of that later.)
Anyway, part of the itinerary was a call center (don’t ask!), which has offices all over the world. So we went up one to of its offices in the Philippines and met two of the most vapid, vacuous individuals to ever walk the planet.
One, a girl in disconcertingly coordinated green, told the group that her company takes pride in competition. "[Name of company] doesn't want people who stay in one place. You have to move up while you are staying here. That shows you are competitive." And on the next breath, she gushed (upon seeing her co-worker’s new laptop) in her whiniest voice: “Uy, ang daya… you have a new laptop…. I gotta have one of those…” And she spoke it in a colegiala accent so bad, it ought to be shot.
She displayed more of her vapidness when she toured us inside and went, “Ah… this area [points to an area where people are apparently waiting for something – I don’t care, really] is like a fishbowl. It’s made of glass, see [yeah, lady, we can see]… so when we see someone cute, we go, ‘Uy, look here… that guy’s cute.” Eyes were rolling.
And that’s just half of the story.
The guy who was with her, the one with a new laptop, was a classic case of what happens when one actually believes his/her own hype and thinks he/she is better than others. Check out the gems coming out of his mouth:
“What is needed in this company is constant practice and training. After six months, we don’t exactly expect you to speak like me.” Ah… yes, because if we speak like you, that would be retrogressing. Check your grammar first before you go all hoity-toity on us… Gawd!
“It doesn’t matter what kind of accent you speak. It’s just that, it’s not good to speak like the taxi drayber ober der who speks layk des…” Yeah… right. Well, newsflash. The taxi driver you just poked fun at knows more about life than you do. In fact, I learned something so much more from any 15-minute ride with a taxi driver than you, moron. Sheeeshhhhhhhhh…..
But what really gets me was when one of their co-workers actually told us flat-out she couldn’t accommodate us because she was interviewing somebody in 10 minutes.
Uh… hello… I can see she was just chatting with somebody.
So I asked Ms Girl in Green: “Is that how you interview people? Online?”
“No… we have telephone interviews and walk-in interviews.”
My students could sense the sarcasm in my voice. Ms Girl in Green couldn’t. Maybe, such subtleties just couldn’t penetrate through her (green) thick headband.
So a few points to ponder: If you are given a chance to work with these kinds of people, would you? That would mean improving your accent (not necessarily grammar and vocabulary. Ms Green just confused “indulge” with “splurge”… ahahahaha!), having a new laptop, and a fab wardrobe.
But then, that would mean being one, politically incorrect; two, absolutely rude; three, socially unaware and four, downright insensitive to people you think are lower than you.
Would you do it if it means you would someday imbibe a culture so superficial, so petty the highlights of the day are comparing laptops, chatting through YM and spotting cute trainees?
I say thanks, but no thanks.
I doubt if these idiots know who the President is.
Or name any three representatives from a party-list.
Or know that the capital of the country has been changed from Quezon to Manila.
Or care about how people in sweatshops and haciendas are exploited.
Or what the implications of outsourcing really is to our labor force (Newsflash: MNCs want us because we offer cheap labor -- and we speak good English. So that means the Philippines is a mill for mediocre, English-speaking cheap labor. Ain't exactly something to be proud of.)
These people are so caught up in their own vapid world, I doubt if they know anything outside their own ivory towers.
So, I’d rather deal with the stress of the job I have right now.
At least I get to grow and see the world as it really is -- with or without laptops.