Finding Mr. Right

Mr. Right could be standing next to you.
- deodorant ad posted inside MRT trains

For anyone taking the MRT every day, the ad admittedly poses a curious scenario. And the folks over at the ad agency certainly knew that during rush hour, save for some people who boarded the train at Taft, everybody else would practically be packed and cramped like illegal Asian immigrants in container vans on their way to some US West Coast city. Just like in the movies.

The only problem with this scenario - which the folks over at the ad agency obviously failed to consider - is this: the trains are segregated.

The dumb, rich boys forgot that women and the elderly exclusively occupy the first three cars of the train. The rest of humanity occupy the remaining cars. Which means that, if you are seriously considering the possibility that Mr. Right is standing next to you:

a. You like them old. Really old.
b. You are into toddlers.
c. Your boyfriend is an inconsiderate and insensitive dork who had to drag you into a cramped and testosterone-charged car because he cannot stand a thirty minute train ride to Cubao without molesting you.
d. You are not into girls.

Now Showing

Leave it to local movie producers to ruin really good songs for you by making movie titles out of them, while at the same time, trying - and eventually failing - to make any coherent and sensible story, even remotely related to the title of the song (who cares about the lyrics?). I am expecting nothing less from GMA's latest film, The Promise, which stars Richard Gutierrez and Angel Locsin (who else did you expect?).

The Promise is a very good song. The Promise will be a really sappy and predictable movie. In that film, I am pretty sure someone, sometime during the span of two hours, will make a promise, almost break it, and end up fulfilling it in the end. In between, would be all the other scenes written for the sole purpose of filling up the dead space. It's all too anti-climactic. I hope I am wrong. But, pinoy commercial films are just too predictable that you can almost swear that you know what the lead characters would say next.

Speaking of GMA (the channel, not the dwarf) and Angel Locsin, I thought that after ripping off Smallville, they would, at least, try to give originality a shot. After seeing an episode of its latest offering, Asian Treasures - which could very well ruin the next generation of Filipino students' knowledge of Philippine history more than any texbook ever has - I could swear I was watching Lara Croft. Only this time, the special effects, the budget, the acting, and, uhm, the body parts, are on a much smaller scale. I once said that the mute button has made it possible for me to enjoy Angel Locsin starrers, but the Lara Croft look just doesn't cut it as well as Darna's costume, if you catch my drift.

Unjust Vexation

I don't know if threats really work, but after sending one of the most creative and acerbic letters I have ever written, via email and fax, to Citibank, and telling one of their so-called "Citiphone officers" that if I don't get my card before the end of last week, I will cancel my account, point-blank, guess what, the office receptionist told me the cards were in last Friday.

I was waiting for my second replacement card. The first one, was supposedly sent last October, two months before the expiration date of my old card. I called their attention at the beginning of the month, to the fact that I have not yet received my replacement card. Since it was already more than 60 days since they sent it to their couriers, they had to give me a new card again, this time with a new account number.

I know that patience is a virtue. But patience doesn't work with utterly incompetent courier services who, for some mysterious reason, cannot seem to find one of the most recognizable buildings along the most famous avenue in the country's premier financial district. After three more follow-up phone calls, one email and one faxed message, they finally got around to delivering the card. In my email to Citibank, I suggested that since I always get my monthly bills on time with no delay whatsoever, maybe they should consider the much-maligned folks over at Philpost to deliver the cards for them. Apparently, not only are not only faster, they are more efficient as well. (Yes. I also never thought I would ever say that.)

Well, at least, now I wouldn't have to worry about these direction-challenged courier services. At least, not until the end of three years.

Edited to add:

In fairness to Citibank, it appears that they promptly acted on my, uhm, feedback. Aside from finally getting the cards (the supplementary card was likewise late) last Friday, I also received an email apologizing for the whole snafu. I also received a phone call where I was told that they have forwarded the issue to the proper persons, and as a token of good faith, have likewise prorated my annual membership fee. Honestly, I didn't expect that they'd even bother to confirm receipt. I was pleasantly surprised.

So, next time you're pissed, speak up.

Numb

repetition same shit
every day, every year
change is forbidden
restrained by the fear
apathetically speaking
it's been a long time
the cakes remain the same

now beat on the doldrums!

yes, i have it
you gotta have it, you gotta have it
i have it
you are infected

- Eraserheads, Monovirus

High School Life

The resident-genius of our high school class (now a UP professor) noted the other day that last year was the fifteenth anniversary of our graduation (or emancipation) from high school. Usually, similar thoughts would bring back memories which would make one wax nostalgic about those halcyon years. Usually.

Instead, we remembered, among others:

- "Our beloved Alma Mater," pronounced as "mey-ter" every single fucking morning before class. Imagine my surprise when during my very first day in college, I learned that except for the graduates of our fine institution, everybody else in the known universe reads it as, well, "mater."

- "Uulitin ko. Ayoko nang paulit-ulit." Out of respect for the woman's wishes, enough said.

- "Love is a feeling that you can feel." Yes. It was a lesson we learned. In class.

- "Sol mi mi mi sol fa mi fa la do ti la la sol sol." How I still remember the notes to the first two lines of this song almost sixteen years after the fact is beyond me. Specially if you consider that, almost sixteen years ago, I refused to sing the goddamn notes (I supposedly got a 75 for that). After sixteen years, nothing has changed. That exercise remains utterly stupid and senseless, and still contributes absolutely nothing to the mass of human knowledge.

- My ghost-written column. The adviser of the school paper probably thought that he can write better than a high school student (he was wrong), giving him the temerity to write a column under my name. I was actually more humiliated for being credited with such a pathetic display of a total lack of aptitude in writing, than pissed for his having replaced my real column with trash. He tried to do it again for the second issue, but let's just say that I was more prepared the second time around.

We could have come up with a much longer list, if not for the number of acts of slander we noticed we were both already committing. So, here's to the fourth batch of "our beloved alma mey-ter." Cheers.

New Word Order

WORDS took a walk on the wild side in 2006. The words in a president's emergency proclamation chilled spines, resurrected frightening shadows and ultimately ended up being dissected and autopsied long after the edict had been retired. A national icon unleashed fighting words as quick and effective as his admired fists. Words brought some from out of the closet and others into the bushes to answer the call of nature. The words joined hands and took to the streets again. Words failed us when so many were silenced forever due to disaster and a darkness seeped out into the waters of paradise. Just as a year seemed ready to end, the words formed a train out of the halls of lawmaking, only to be reined in by the warnings of others. The year to come brings another opportunity to mark our words, to have your say. It was a year of blood, oil, fierce water and tears of both laughter and lamentations. It was a year unlike any other. And who knows what awaits us in 2007. Let us celebrate what was said, now that all is said and done.

- Ruel S. De Vera, Sunday Inquirer Magazine, 31 December 2006

Boom Tarat Tarat

Suddenly, I'm the sickest person on the planet.

With the total absence of anything resembling free time outside of the two-week Christmas break, I decided to make a trek to the friendly neighborhood doctors to finally get around the consultations I should have done oh so long ago.

In a nutshell, I now know the smell of burning skin. Yep. You get to inhale the smoke and all. But, it's really not that pleasing. That's probably why nobody is into smoking dead skin.

I also got to acquaint myself with some of the prescription drugs that I have been trying, and failing, to have "reimbursed" by my employer for years. In a rather sick twist of fate, I can safely guess that I won't have any problems having these expenses reimbursed this time.

Speaking of free time, Weng got me a copy of NBA Live 07. You have to know that this franchise is the only reason why a Sony Playstation2 is sitting in our room (and of course the Playstation, before that). I had copies of NBA Live 98, 2000, 2003, 2005, 06 and now, 07. It's simply the best game out there, ever. Things have certainly gotten better since I spent free time at Cervini beating the crap out of Roger in bball, but that's another story.

The good old CS faculty in Bagumbayan is now preparing for their second season of NBA Live (PC). Leave it to the CS faculty to come up with such ideas. We once spent days (in between classes, of course) and nights at the office shooting the brains out of terrorists and counter-terrorists. Somebody got bored and decided to rescue naked female hostages, instead. I have no idea how good they are now in NBA Live, but when I left three years ago, only Joshua has managed to give me a good game, and to actually have a chance to beat me, in any given day.

* * *

Huwag maging dayuhan sa sariling bayan.

I will be off to Bicolandia this weekend to spend New Year's Day with the in-laws. And as I'm writing this, I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to bring my PS2 controller with me to Naga. Paksyet.

Happy New Year y'all.

Breaking Out/Going Home

I discovered Prison Break last week. As of last night, I only have about 7 more episodes to go before the protagonists, I presume, finally break out of Fox River Penitentiary. It really has to end soon. Otherwise, I will not be able to get around reading my 30-page backlog in Crimpro. (Forget about advance reading - I am way behind.)

While I get the idea that some of my friends watch the series because of Wentworth Miller (yes, they're girls), the series is rather good in its own right. (Seeing Sarah Wayne Callies regularly doesn't hurt either.) It has a great storyline (I know it looks like a Shawshank rip-off, but I love the Shawshank Redemption) plus the series has several scenes shot in Chicago - which, for me, is always good. Most of the scenes shot downtown are places I'm familiar with: Lower Wacker, Navy Pier, Wrigley Field, the Chicago River - which, by the way, is still as green as ever. Sweet home, Chicago.

* * *

Speaking of home, I will be off to Gapo over the weekend to spend the holidays with my folks. So, Happy Holidays to you and your family. Cheers.

Person of the Year: ME!

I am TIME Magazine's Person of the Year for 2006.

Seriously.

According to the AFP (the press people, not the people shooting the press people), TIME Magazine named 'You' as its person of the year Saturday, with a mirror cover designed to reflect the importance of user-generated Internet content as a driving force in the modern world. The Dec. 25, 2006 issue of TIME Magazine says:

Who are these people? Seriously, who actually sits down after a long day at work and says, I'm not going to watch Lost tonight. I'm going to turn on my computer and make a movie starring my pet iguana? I'm going to mash up 50 Cent's vocals with Queen's instrumentals? I'm going to blog about my state of mind or the state of the nation or the steak-frites at the new bistro down the street? Who has that time and that energy and that passion?

The answer is, you do. And for seizing the reins of the global media, for founding and framing the new digital democracy, for working for nothing and beating the pros at their own game, TIME's Person of the Year for 2006 is you.

This certainly calls for a celebration. Now, I only need to figure out how to put this into my resume without making me appear like a clown.

The Hill

I left home at 16, in a sense, never to come back. I was young, I was brash, and I was looking forward to meeting head on, four of the most challenging and unforgettable years of my life. For the first time, I was alone, and for the first time, I was completely surrounded by brilliant people whose academic preparation sadly exposed the magnitude of the shortcomings of my own high school education.

I have visited my old college campus many times since I left it as a student many years ago. While more and more buildings have sprouted from what were once open fields, and Camp Big Falcon has risen from what once was the shortcut to Bel; while traffic has since gone from bad to really god-awful, and somehow you think that less girls are wearing shorts now; as sappy as it sounds, somehow, you still feel that you are home.

Downtime

For all intents and purposes, 2006 at Malcolm Hall ended last night for the block. There is still a class scheduled for tonight, but knowing the man's propensity for disappearing acts, chances are we won't see him again until 2007, if ever.

In any case, I plan to be at the University on Friday to (1) pick up my "copy" of a textbook from the SC, (2) maybe see the lantern parade for the first time since 15 years ago (for the love of everything good and holy, has it been that long?), and (3) diss the faculty at the Malcolm Madness.

Workload at the office is rather light. In fact, it is so light that for the past week, aside from doing school work, I have just been picking on idiots at public fora and stalking people over the Internet.

If you know where to look, you can find almost anything on the Internet. Aside from learning that your friends have hot friends who frequent Boracay (the pictures really help), sometimes, you also get to remind yourself, that indeed, only a few things are as pleasing as knowing that the stuck-up homecoming queen ended up with Cornelius.

Now, ain't life grand?

Course Work

The regular visitors of this site (yes, all two of you) must have noticed that not much is happening 'round this neck of the woods. On the contrary, I have been too busy screwing my employer that I barely found the time to screw it some more (Yep, that's where I'm composing this masterpiece right now).

We had quite a load to read last week, which was precisely why I was virtually on leave from work. But, of course, if you would only diligently check the records, you will find out that my ass was at the office for 40 hours.

Of course, not a single one of the good professors who assigned the comatose-inducing readings was able to cover all their assignments (one of them did not even see us the whole week), but trust me, you really do not want to risk being caught unprepared - unless, of course, you feel lucky. That, and you really want to make some professor's day.

All this couldn't possibly make me long for the looming Christmas break any more than I do right now. I really need a freaking break. At least, last year we had interesting stuff to read, like drawbridges being bombarded, politicians screaming "vulva of your mother!", half -naked dancers interpreting the life of a woman whose guerilla husband was killed during the war, and naked would-be rape victims running in front of the town hall. Now, all we have are debtors screwing creditors, and creditors screwing debtors. Well, that, and irresponsible drivers who hit people on bicycles, fences, stores, and other people trying to fix a parked car on the side of the road.

Not a Gifted Child

Unang Hirit broadcast a footage of a police operation to stop a suspected car thief from getting away early this morning. The clip showed a red Honda Civic that occupied almost half of the street along Makati Avenue before dawn.

Makati police responded to a call that informed them of an attempt to steal the vehicle, but what the operatives saw surprised them because there was no one there.

According to the Inquirer:

On further investigation, police discovered that the handbrake of the car was down, which could have caused the vehicle to slide from where it had been parked, the report said.

The situation became clearer when the car owner, who admitted to having made the call, claimed not to have noticed that the handbrake was down, the report said.

The owner had called police when she saw her vehicle, which had been parked for almost an hour, move out from its slot, the report said.

At the back of my mind, I can't help but think that Bitoy is hiding somewhere just about ready to scream, "Yari ka!"

Tapos Na ang Boksing

For three beautiful and magnificent rounds yesterday, I could almost forgive Manny Pacquiao for even trying to sing.


It was short and it was sweet. The bout was over even before the Pacman's mother, Dionisia, could finish saying her rosary at her home in General Santos City.

Para sa 'yo . . . ang laban na 'tooooo . . .

image courtesy of INQ7.net.

Deep Thoughts II

Some mysteries in life will forever escape elucidation. Atlantis. The Bermuda Triangle. Alchemy and the Philosopher's Stone. Nostradamus. The works of Da Vinci. The mathematics of fat, bald lawyers.

I was done with the registration at Malcolm quite early yesterday, and I was able to sign up for the only two-unit elective course that fits into our schedule. (Yes, they still call it an elective.) I am guessing that the 34 folks who preenlisted changed their minds after the class was moved from Wednesday to Friday. They used a renovated room for the registration, which is definitely way better than the really, very cramped area in the OCS.

There are still some people who managed to finish early despite arriving about two hours later than everybody else. They have many friends. Shameless and insensitive maybe, but friends nonetheless. Some things never change. Where is Luli Arroyo when you need her?

The College Secretary chided me for referring to a professor by his first name. For a second, I was really tempted to tell her the big secret (that we all refer to the professor by his first name). But, only for a second.

Speaking of the Arroyos, Dato, who will run for Representative in the first district of Camarines Sur, has updated his Friendster profile. The Ateneo de Naga alum's hometown now reads as "La Vista, Quezon Citeh! Libmanan, Cam Sur!" A few points to ponder. Naga City is in the second district. GMA's lapdog in the House, Luis Villafuerte, is the incumbent Representative of the second district. He's on his first term. The erstwhile congressman of the first district, Rolando Andaya, Jr., was appointed by GMA to a Cabinet post.

I also lived in Naga City. I taught in one of its universities for three years. By choice. I am married to a full-blooded Nagueña. But, I don't have the temerity to think that I have earned the right to call myself a Bicolano. Different strokes, for different folks.

This Day in History

General Interest

1991 : Magic Johnson announces he is HIV positive
1885 : Canada's transcontinental railway completed
1940 : Tacoma Bridge collapses
1944 : FDR reelected a record third time
1989 : Two African American firsts in politics

American Revolution

1776 : Post office stays in the Franklin family

Automotive

1957 : East Germany launches the Trabant Sputnik
1965 : Green Monster sets new speed record

Civil War

1861 : Battle of Belmont, Missouri

Cold War

1957 : Gaither Report calls for more U.S. missiles and fallout shelters

Crime

1983 : A family is brutally murdered

Disaster

1940 : Tacoma Narrows Bridge collapses

Entertainment

1943 : Joni Mitchell born
1951 : Ava Gardner and Frank Sinatra marry

Literary

1913 : French novelist Albert Camus is born

Old West

1916 : Jeannette Rankin becomes first U.S. congresswoman

Presidential

1944 : FDR wins unprecedented fourth term

Vietnam War

1964 : U.S. intelligence asserts numbers of North Vietnamese in South Vietnam growing
1966 : McNamara shouted down at Harvard speech
1972 : Nixon re-elected president

Wall Street

1918 : Rumors close NYSE
1984 : Wall Street's election woes
1997 : Greenspan speaks in Germany

World War I

1914 : First issue of The New Republic published

World War II

1944 : Soviet master spy is hanged by the Japanese

From The History Channel.

Die, Ken, Die

Being an Eheads junkie, I have always thought that it would almost be impossible to find anybody who doesn't know the Eraserheads, or any their songs, in this country. I would even dare say that most Filipinos know most of the Eheads' songs by heart, and that some songs, like Ligaya, Pare Ko, With a Smile, Kailan, Alapaap, and Magasin, are practically anthems that all Filipinos could sing without breaking a sweat.

That is, until Ken Dingle, a contestant in ABC-5's Philippine Idol, went up on stage a week ago, and promptly mutilated the Eheads' very first hit single before a live and television audience. I was not sure as to what surprised me more - that people in the audience actually cheered and applauded after the most horrible singing performance I have ever witnessed (hey, at least Alyssa Alano knew her lyrics) or that Ely Buendia did not there and then shoot the moron.



I would not be writing this today, if he was booted out last night. But, apparently, Filipinos vote for their Idols the same way they vote for their Congressmen. And no, that is not good. Not good at all. If, for some sick reason, this idiot finds himself in the final two, and somehow wins it all, I suggest that the producers of Philippine Idol slit their throats, for unleashing this horror upon an unsuspecting people.

Unassigned Readings

I have made it a point to read something every time the semestral break rolls in, if only to resensitize myself after being desensitized by five months of "mind-numbing torture and moral erosion." [1] So in preparation for this cleansing ritual, I got myself a copy of a book my sister-in-law recommended to me, one week before the last exam. I wasn't there at Rockwell for the book. It just so happened that upon browsing, I discovered that the paperback copy was out, and I just had to get it.

So, earlier this morning, save for the Author's Notes, which I plan to finish later tonight, I finished the only Anne Rice book that I have ever read. Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt is a "curious portrait of a seven-year-old Jesus, who departs Egypt with his family to return home to Nazareth." [2] Rice narrates, in childlike language, "Jesus' gradual discovery of the miraculous birth his parents have never discussed with him." [3] It is an interesting and refreshing read, just in time for the holidays, I guess. And since it is narrated from the Christ child's perspective, it was an easy read, as well. A very good antidote to the convoluted language of codal provisions and judicial decisions. It would not displace The Catcher in the Rye, but it's up there.

I finished the book one week ahead of time. Which is all good, since now, I have one full week to enjoy Sports Illustrated's NBA Preview Issue, which I had reserved at Bufini last week. This has been a most satisfying break. If only I can read volumes of the SCRA with as much vigor. But, I digress.

Footnotes:

[1]See Ask Scaebolah! #4

[2]See Amazon.com

[3]Id.

"Singaw ng Bayan"

Olats na naman. Sorry Joe, it's a no-go. Belat.

THE SUPREME Court has dismissed the petition filed by pro-Charter change advocates for a people’s initiative to amend the 1987 Constitution.

Voting 8-7, the high tribunal, in its ruling penned by Associate Justice Antonio Carpio, upheld its decision on a similar case in 1997 involving the Commission on Elections vs Senator Miriam Defensor-Santiago.

Read all about the really, very good news here.

Good News. I am Normal.

There is this rather conservative assumption that people create Friendster accounts to make new friends, to keep in touch with old ones, to achieve world peace, and all that crap. But, come on. Really now. Ask yourself, why in heaven's name did I have to create this useless account? Here's a wild guess. Pictures. Of. Hot. Chicks. Yep. We are all in it because we are all sick, stalkers looking for hot chicks. Admit it.

“Basically, Jonathan wanted to meet girls,” said Mark J. Pincus, a Silicon Valley entrepreneur who provided Mr. Abrams with some of the seed money to finance his project at the end of 2002. “He told me himself, he started Friendster as a way to surf through his friends’ address books for good-looking girls.”

There is a concept in law called legislative intent. Well, we now have it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak. If you don't believe me, check out the NY Times. You need an account to login.

Props up to ~C4Chaos for the link.