Four Months Later

I saw the most explicit and most torrid puppet-sex ever exhibited on film over the weekend in Team America: World Police. It was released way back in 2004, and was produced by the same people who brought to us the greatest animated film ever: South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut. I had to get an original copy because, for some reason, our enterprising brothers from the South, apparently have never heard of it. It was well worth it. Aside from the aforementioned extended sex scene between two of the film's puppet characters, you'd also catch Nokor's Dear Leader Kim Jong Il lamenting his loneliness and hidden injury through song ("I'm So Ronery"), and, of course, you'd hear one of the most romantic lines ever delivered on film: You had me at "dicks fuck assholes".

RPN-9 finally aired the first episode of the second season of Heroes last Sunday (The second season premiered in the US on September 24, 2007. It will consist of 24 episodes). I actually finished the first season way ahead of RPN-9's schedule over four months ago, thanks in no small part to the advancements made in digital video technology in this country, and I expect to outpace the network yet again in a few months, after it airs some 18 or so episodes. It answered a few questions and introduced new characters. And yeah, Hiro is still the man.

I'll be picking up my reserved copy of SI's NBA Preview Issue at Bufini tomorrow, like I do every October. Like last year, I will have exactly one week to enjoy the magazine, before registration and Civpro rolls in.

What, Me Worry?

In computer science, the ostrich algorithm is a strategy of ignoring potential problems on the basis that they may be exceedingly rare - "to stick your head in the sand and pretend that there is no problem". This assumes that it is more cost-effective to allow the problem to occur than to attempt its prevention.

So, you ask yourself, is the difference between a passing mark and something higher worth the aggravation?

Excuse me while I stick my head in the sand.

51.13%

We are, if anything, creatures of habits. Drawn to the safety and comfort of the familiar. But what happens when the familiar becomes unsafe, when the fear that we have been desperately trying to avoid finds us where we live? *

I had Labor last Friday. No, not the kind that brings forth new life into the universe (fact: if a fetus had an intrauterine life of at least seven months, it need only to be born alive, to be considered a person under our laws - a fact that I conveniently forgot - during Succession finals), but the kind where reading at least 60 pages during the course of the semester is absolutely guaranteed. And that's just the course outline.

Anyway, it's all history now. Labor. Gone. The first half of AY 07-08. Gone. 68 of 133. Gone. As Red said, "That's all it takes really, pressure, and time."

I usually go out for lunch on Fridays, usually, in one of the places in and around the Makati CBD. More often than not, it's usually in one of the malls near the area where I work. I also usually get "sick" during the days when I have matter to attend to over at Diliman, and last Friday was no different. So I was on a cab on the way to Diliman, instead of having lunch at, say, Pizza Hut in Glorietta 2, when I received two messages about the Glorietta Blast. It was a senseless tragedy, and my sympathies go to all the victims and their next of kin. For a moment, I was thankful that I had Labor that day. Only for a moment.

We are all, at our cores, the sum of our fears. To embrace destiny we must inevitably face those fears and conquer them. Whether they come from the familiar or the unknown. *
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* narration from Heroes (Homecoming).

Prepare for Glory

I was planning to enjoy three post-Succession films over the weekend (In the comfort of my own studio, courtesy of our friendly neighborhood dibidi supplier). First, because I am probably the only person I know who hasn't seen these movies - movies that I sorely wanted to see at some point during the last five months, but obviously didn't. Second, after finally, hopefully, completing Succession under RFB, you really, badly need something to desensitize yourself.

I was able to finish two out of the three movies. It should now rather be obvious what the first film was (The other choice, by the way, for this entry's title is Transform, and Roll out. Not quite as compelling, huh?). I still don't know whether I can find time to watch the third one this week, considering that there is still Labor on Friday. I remember having mentioned many times in the past, that one of the most difficult things to do in this world is to force yourself to prepare for the last hurdle. That is still true, I kid you not.

Anyway, I also have my sembreak desensitization book ready for this weekend. I got a copy of Youngblood^3 as early as last July. I have both The Best of Youngblood and Youngblood 2.0, and I got the third installment because, as Vonnegut would say, I choose or claim to have a shared identity or purpose with the writers. I actually started reading it last Friday, but stopped somewhere in the middle of the book, lest I finish it before the semester actually ends.

I have a Plan B, but by the look of things, it seems that John Grisham's latest work won't be in paperback anytime soon. And no, it has absolutely nothing to do with courts of law (The only Grisham book I have read to date is Bleachers). Reading The Firm for the sembreak would somewhat defeat the purpose, don't you think?

Half-life

The half-life of a quantity, subject to exponential decay, is the time required for the quantity to decay to half of its initial value. The concept originated in the study of radioactive decay, but applies to many other fields as well, including phenomena which are described by non exponential decays.

College was never this fast. Most probably, it's because of the fact that aside from "portering" (or exploitation of the poor, as Felix puts it) and lining up for my monthly stipend, the only thing that I ever needed to do back in college was to show up in class and pass. And that's precisely what I did for four years. I also lived on-campus, which explains why I was late for class most of the time. Unlike the non-resident students, we spent time between classes comfortably sleeping in our own beds, and not in the library.

The experience thus far, has been quite the opposite. Unlike the day classes who spend all day at Malcolm (I think. After all, we barely see them in person), we corporate and government drones have to survive the daily commute (at least, those of us who do) every single day after work (real work - not the sissy, lame-ass version that one gets, to qualify for the evening class), only to suffer moral damages "in the grand manner" for at least two hours. You go home, and prepare to relive the same horrible dream all over again, the very next day.

That, in my opinion, explains why this thing seems to be going much faster than I expected. In two weeks' time, assuming shit does not happen, the block would have finally reached the halfway mark, and before we know it, all of this will be over pretty quick.

It will be painful, but quick, nonetheless.

Free Burma!

The End of the Road

Ateneo's season ended last Sunday, after losing its knockout game against the PEPT Squad, for the right to play undefeated UE in the championship round. After winning two consecutive elimination games against No. 4 UST and No. 2 PEPT Squad, the team simply did not have enough gas in the tank this time, to complete its turnaround after losing its last elimination round game to NU, which turned out to be the turning point of the season (note to the Eagles: can we please beat the living shit out of NU twice next year?).

The emptyness of moral victories notwithstanding, Coach Norman Black pointed out to reporters after the game, that nobody predicted the Eagles to be one game away from playing for the championship when the season started, considering that it just lost Macky Escalona, Doug Kramer and JC Intal to graduation. Yet, there they were (No, it doesn't really help).

Ateneo will lose Ford Arao and Zion Laterre to graduation this year. Everybody else (including, hopefully, Chris Tiu), is expected to return. NCAA Juniors MVP Ryan Buenafe, and Justin Chua from Tiong Lian champions CKSC, will reportedly join the team as its rookies next year. These two boys, along with Nonoy Baclao, Eric Salamat and Kirk Long should provide the core of the Hail Mary team for the coming years. The future looks good. At least, on paper.

OBF.

"Gritty Blue Eagles just won’t die"

Down by six going into the last two minutes of the game, and probably, the season, Chris Tiu scored five of the game's last seven points, including the game-winning basket with 7.3 seconds left, to beat the PEPT Squad for the third time in four tries this season, and more importantly, to stay alive for, at least, one more game.


With the win, the Eagles will play the PEPT Squad for a fifth time this season on Sunday, with the winner moving on to play the top-seeded UE Warriors.

OBF.

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Image courtesy of the Ateneo Sports Shooters.

Bitter

From the New York Times, baby.

Senators, foreign diplomats, cabinet ministers, a smattering of Forbes’s 40 richest Filipinos, movie stars and enough professional basketball players to play five-on-five. They are the elite of Philippine society, and they all gather at Araneta Coliseum in Quezon City to watch the men’s basketball rivalry between the universities Ateneo de Manila and De La Salle.

Read the rest of the article here.

Crap. Now, the rest of the world knows who the cheats are.

Sweet!

“Iba ang usapan sa playoff. Tingnan natin ang tibay nila, basta kami matibay kami (The playoff is a different story. We’re tough, let’s see how tough they are).”

- UST Coach Pido Jarencio, before promptly losing to Ateneo, 69-64.

Now, this does not in any way come close to payback for the Game 3 loss last year. Nevertheless, it was still a sweet, sweet win. I was good - no, gratifying - to finally send them packing, especially after their gallery pulled that stupid stunt during halftime in the first round. In a rather weird show of sportsmanship, their cheerleaders - the Bumbling Bees (actually, they call themselves the "Yellow Jackets," inspite of the fact that these species are not native in this region) - promptly cheered for the PEPT Squad after losing yesterday, for good measure.

Comedy of Errors

Regarding my last entry re: Brian Ilad, in the spirit of fairness, love, and world peace, according to the *cough* "Dean of Philippine Basketball," *cough* and I quote:

"Regarding yesterday’s column about La Salle’s Brian Ilad, a reader clarified that the 6-5 center played only two years, not four, at Philippine College of Criminology. But Ilad qualified for only a season in the UAAP because he finished high school in 2001, a limitation in his eligibility. A UAAP senior athlete is allowed to play five seasons in a span of seven years from when he graduated in high school." (italics all mine, baby - d)

So there.

Speaking of errors, a friend from AMA Computer University asked me to post this:

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Many thanks to A.Y.

Murphy's Law

Last Saturday, the only thing that the Eagles needed to do to finally nail the twice-to-beat advantage in the stepladder playoffs was to beat the sorriest team in the history of the league (not necessarily for this season - that honor belongs to another team).

But of course, they did not.

Yesterday, they had to play a PEPT Squad that is obviously aching for payback, after the two similarly painful losses inflicted on them by the Eagles in the elimination rounds. The game was not so much different from the first two games - only this time, it was Ateneo who blinked first, and it cost them dearly.

(Brian Ilad also did not play - he was serving his automatic one-game suspension after being ejected from the DLRT-UE game, after hitting UE's Brian Fampulme, who had his back turned on Ilad, while Ilad was on the bench. It was reported earlier that he has likewise been slapped a five-game suspension on top of the automatic one-game ban, thus ending his illustrious one-year UAAP career. Note that Ilad had actually consumed four years of eligibility in another league with the Philippine College of Criminology, which explains why he looks like a police sketch.)

Now, the Eagles would have to contend with the defending champions (who just came off a win in their own playoff for no. 4) in a knockout match to determine who will face the PEPT Squad, for the right to play undefeated UE in the Finals. The PEPT Squad, by virtue of the win yesterday, will have the twice-to-beat advantage.

Not Once, But Twice!

Ateneo whooped green ass for the second time in as many games yesterday at the Araneta Coliseum. Chris Tiu (for the second time in as many games) buried the winning trey with 17.8 seconds left in the game.


The PEPT Squad actually had a chance to tie the game, but Rico Maierhofer's putback off JV Casio’s missed jumper was released after time expired. There's no word yet if the PEPT Squad will file a protest.


Honk if you know somebody in the picture (No, I don't mean Dato Arroyo).

Note to PJ Walsham: your level of arrogance should at least approximate your level of play (see Cardona, Mark or Yeo, Joseph). In other words, huwag kang maangas kung banban ka.

Note to all overly-sensitive losers: huwag mapipikon sa mga banners ng crowd ng kalaban. Ang pikon, talo. Sus . . .

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Images courtesy of the Ateneo Sports Shooters.

Untitled

The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who in the name of charity and goodwill shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know My name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.

- Jules Winnfield, each time he kills someone, Pulp Fiction.

Wills

The following is the best will ever written. Unfortunately, it is not a real will. It was written for an episode of what, to me, is indisputably the best TV series ever.

(I am posting this in light of the news that the late Leona Helmsley, left her beloved white Maltese, named Trouble, a $12 million trust fund. Why is this suddenly interesting, you ask? Well, succession does these things to you.)

In that episode, Where There's a Will, There's a War, Hawkeye goes to help at an aid station, and under heavy shelling he draws up a will, leaving various items to his friends at the 4077th.

“I, Benjamin Franklin Pierce, being of sound mind and endangered body, hereby decree this to be my Last Will and Testament. I bequeath to my father all my worldly possessions with the exception of the following: To Charles Emerson Winchester, though we may have wounded your pride, you never lost your dignity. I therefore bequeath to you the most dignified thing I own — my bathrobe. Purple is the color of royalty. To Father Francis Mulcahy, I leave five cents. You are a man of God, and I know worldly possessions mean little to you, Father. So I leave you a nickel along with something I value more highly than anything I own — my everlasting respect. To you, Margaret Houlihan, I leave my treasured Groucho nose and glasses. Perhaps they’ll remind you of how much I enjoyed that silly side you show all too infrequently. To Sherman Potter, who’s a lot like my dad, I leave The Last of the Mohicans, my dad’s favorite book. I’d like you to have the copy he gave me. To Maxwell Q Klinger, I leave the shirt off my back. Not just any shirt, but my beloved Hawaiian shirt. To Erin Hunnicutt, I leave you a list of all the young men your daddy took care of while he was in Korea. Many of them have him to thank for being alive today. I want you to understand why he has to be away from you those first years of your life. I hope I have the chance to give you this list in person. But around here, you never know.”

The Disappeared

Why are there women here dancing on their own?
Why is there this sadness in their eyes?
Why are the soldiers here
Their faces fixed like stone?
I can't see what it is that they despise
They're dancing with the missing
They're dancing with the dead
They dance with the invisible ones
Their anguish is unsaid
They're dancing with their fathers
They're dancing with their sons
They're dancing with their husbands
They dance alone
They dance alone

It's the only form of protest they're allowed
I've seen their silent faces scream so loud
If they were to speak these words they'd go missing too
Another woman on a torture table what else can they do
They're dancing with the missing
They're dancing with the dead
They dance with the invisible ones
Their anguish is unsaid
They're dancing with their fathers
They're dancing with their sons
They're dancing with their husbands
They dance alone
They dance alone

One day we'll dance on their graves
One day we'll sing our freedom
One day we'll laugh in our joy
And we'll dance
One day we'll dance on their graves
One day we'll sing our freedom
One day we'll laugh in our joy
And we'll dance

Ellas danzan con los desaparecidos
Ellas danzan con los muertos
Ellas danzan con amores invisibles
Ellas danzan con silenciosa angustia
Danzan con sus padres
Danzan con sus hijos
Danzan con sus esposos
Ellas danzan solas
Danzan solas

Hey Mr. Pinochet
You've sown a bitter crop
It's foreign money that supports you
One day the money's going to stop
No wages for your torturers
No budget for your guns
Can you think of your own mother
Dancin' with her invisible son
They're dancing with the missing
They're dancing with the dead
They dance with the invisible ones
They're anguish is unsaid
They're dancing with their fathers
They're dancing with their sons
They're dancing with their husbands
They dance alone
They dance alone

- Sting, They Dance Alone (Cueca Solo)

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"They Dance Alone (Cueca Solo)" was inspired by Sting's witnessing of public demonstrations of grief by the wives and daughters of men missing in Chile, presumed tortured and murdered by the military dictatorship of the time, who danced the cueca (the traditional dance of Chile) by themselves, with photos of their loved ones pinned to their clothes.

Today is the International Day for the Disappeared.

Maybe You Should Have Slashed Your Wrists

However I forgot that the hub was in Dubai and the majority of the OFWs (overseas Filipino workers) were stationed there. The duty-free shop was overrun with Filipino workers selling cell phones and perfume. Meanwhile, I wanted to slash my wrist at the thought of being trapped in a plane with all of them.

While I was on the plane (where the seats were so small I had bruises on my legs), my only consolation was the entertainment on the small flat screen in front of me. But it was busted, so I heaved a sigh, popped my sleeping pills and dozed off to the sounds of gum chewing and endless yelling of “HOY! Kumusta ka na? At taga saan ka? Domestic helper ka rin ba?” Translation: “Hey there? Where are you from? Are you a domestic helper as well?” I though I had died and God had sent me to my very own private hell.

On my way back, I had to bravely take the economy flight once more. This time I had already resigned myself to being trapped like a sardine in a sardine can with all these OFWs smelling of AXE and Charlie cologne while Jo Malone evaporated into thin air.

All in all, it’s been a pretty good summer. Jetting from the Aegean Sea to the Pacific may sound a bit pretentious until you wake up in economy class smelling like air freshener.

The open-minded writer who made the tolerant statements above has finally resigned from her job, after doing what only Ninoy Aquino and Manny Pacquiao were able to do in the recent past - unite a horribly divided people. Unlike the latter two, however, Malu Fernandez was able to do just that by directing the collective ire of Filipinos everywhere towards herself, and may have actually accomplished what only one person since 2003 has accomplished: become the most hated woman in the country.

She initially tried to answer the negative feedback by dismissing the backlash as the result of the failure of the reader to "get the meaning of [her] acerbic wit." She also said that she was only being true to herself.

The bottom line was just that I had offended the reader’s socioeconomic background. If any of these people actually read anything thicker then a magazine they would find it very funny…I obviously write for the certain target audience and if what I write offends you, just stop reading.

(Obviously, she assumed that the people asking for her head on a plate are all idiots, and disregarded the possibilty that they may have, in fact, read more than the usual fare of Hi! and Yes! magazines. Bad move.)

Fernandez later admitted being insensitive and offensive, as she apologized to the OFWs for whatever she had written.

Daily Planner

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image courtesy of UP SJV.

Criminal Minds

On the one weekend of the year during which traffic at the academic oval goes one-way, and all high school seniors flock to Diliman, I was at Pasay City watching the refs call fouls on flies landing on Jervy Cruz' ass. It was a weird afternoon, one where a post-menopausal biatch from Espana tried to enforce her concept of discipline on us - and failed. But, it's really hard to be down so much even after the loss, since I'd still rather be on the stands watching hoops than in class praying to the gods not to be called. Besides, you have to give it to the Pussies, I mean the Tigers, who really played well that day.

After the game, we joined the team for dinner at a place along Roxas Blvd. I guess the mood would have been a lot better if we joined them after that win against DLRT (whose protest, by the way, was denied with finality last Sunday), but it was all good nonetheless. After all, who would have thought that the team would appreciate all the acts of slander and unjust vexation that we commit during ballgames so much, that it would actually invite us to join them for dinner? Maybe crime pays, after all.

Sore Losers

A sore loser is someone who loses in a fair competition but whines about it on a constant basis, blaming everyone around them for their loss except themselves. Fun to taunt, but no fun to play with.

Someone who can't simply be honorable, by accepting defeat and/or trying again. On the contrary, said individual or group engages in childish pissing and moaning; bitching about how it's not fair and the other side cheated, etc.

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Definitions from Urban Dictionary.