Current research

The whys and wherefores of backmasking. Can anyone lead me to the right materials?

Sermount – Sermon-on-the-Mount/Sermon of the Month

This came from Fr. Jun:

“Do you read the old love letters given you by your husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend? Do you try to keep them in a special place and try to reread them?”

“Congratulations, you’re normal!” (Audience smiles in unison.)

“What is abnormal is when we do not read the Bible when it is God’s love letter to us.” (Audience smirks in unison.)

Commentary: Some people think the Bible is just a book of myths and fables as interpreted by a bunch of psychotic cases. I happen to believe that it’s either you take the Bible as the word of God or take it as the former. There is no middle course. As a daily Bible reader, I can attest to this claim: “Knowledge of the Bible (the word of God) is better than a PhD.”

I may be shy but not ashamed

‘Shy’ and’ ashamed’ are two different things.

My admission that I am a shy person is backfiring at me. While it’s true that Introvert is my middle name and I am at times afflicted with a debilitating stage fright, it’s also true that I’ve been the class president in high school at least thrice; I’ve been assigned - against my ‘holy’ will - to lead young people in my community who do not share my socioeconomic status; I’ve been a discussion group leader in various focus group discussions/dyads/one-on-ones/triads; I’ve even been asked to deliver a speech or a talk, again, against my ‘holy’ will. If push comes to shove, I can dance, sing and act in front of a willing audience.

Yes, I am somewhat handicapped but if push comes to shove, I can do the job. I can deliver like anyone else. Don’t use my unseemly shyness against me. It may be mistaken as a sign of weakness even when I am just being me. Maybe it’s really in my nature; maybe I’m just trying to be humble; maybe I am actually insecure.

But who among us is not? Even confirmed braggarts are guilty of false self-confidence. They make up for what they don’t have by making other people’s lives miserable by pointing out how far better they are and how ugly and defective others are. Their insecurity becomes an instrument for other people to become just as insecure.

It makes sense. I should not be ashamed. I should not be embarrassed of who I am, my warts included. I am God’s favorite child as much as you and you and you are His favorite.

They say that the only time we should fear is when we offend God. In the same manner, the only time we should feel ashamed is when we are doing something evil (i.e., something offensive to God).

Nugget of witchdom

“Nakalimutan kong magaling pala ako!” - B-Witched

My problem with the “right” to abort

That’s what pro-choice is all about, as far as I can see - the right to abort. I may agree that the woman, not the State, has the sole right over her body and her fetus, should she choose not to believe that God is the real owner of her body, her baby, and indeed her life. But my other problem with abortion is this: If we make abortion legal, we might as well make murder legal. It’s only logical. Where can you find a syllogism sounder than that?

Can you be ambitious without being selfish?

Evidence suggests that the answer is yes. Successful people are driven by a goal higher than their egos. That goal, stripped to the core, is humble service. Humble because there is an acknowledgement that “others are deserving to be served” (by them).

But this is just my perspective, which I hazard to say is Christian (like ‘Jesus,’ the word ‘Christian’ is uncool in the strange lingo of liberalists.). This is my enduring criticism of capitalism. In capitalism, profit, not people, matters. It’s the same God-less materialist ideology (where ‘Christian’ and ‘Jesus’ are likewise uncool if these are not meant as cuss words or profanities), albeit admittedly far more preferable than the past crop of horrible alternatives. Capitalism, left untrammeled, cannot be a safeguard against human avarice. But we live in a planet of finite wealth and resources, and this means any attempt of any individual or group at controlling the world’s goods will be self-limiting and self-defeating in the end.

***

Yet capitalism at least ensures our individuality; competition engenders that we churn out constantly better work/product. We may be constantly at each other’s throat, but we are at least constantly on our toes.

The trouble with communism, says Bruce, is not that it wants equal opportunity (which capitalism and democracy strive to provide, too), but that it wants equal results. This philosophy of utopia, Bruce suggests, is bound to fail because it kills the very human drive to dream bigger dreams, it kills the sense of achievement and fulfillment, it kills the drive to “succeed” in life by the brow of one’s sweat, and so, it kills the need to keep constant guard of the competition, to be constantly seeking self-improvement. What totalitarianism and communism have done is not to empower everyone, bourgeois and proletariat alike, but to silence everyone in the name of “groupthink.” Totalitarianism became the same despotism, the same tyranny, this time the “tyranny of the proletariat”.

If you think totalitarianism died with the Soviet Union, you’re wrong. Totalitarianism alive and well, and it is still capable of changing individual perceptions and destroying the fabric of free society if we are apathetic to what’s happening around us. This is not to say Thought Police mentality is the monopoly of the Left. Everyone in the whole political/philosophical spectrum can be prone to this train of thought.

***

How can we participate in a genuine, well-meaning social activism without devolving into another Thought Police case? Bruce asks. The answers provided are: First, we must be aware of our freedoms, and we must be aware that for every freedom enjoyed comes the responsibility attached to it.

Second, it is important to uphold the values that promote the common good. We ought to have values; we need not even delve into the possibility of society’s collapse with the loss of the sense of right and wrong.

Third, we must tell people where we are coming from.

Fourth, we should voice out what we think without denying (legally or extralegally) the right of our “enemies” to air their side of the argument. That way, everyone who has something to say is given the space he needs.

That is, provided he is being heard in the right context. (Review our chilling national experiences with pornographers, gossips, slanderers, criminals, putschists, terrorists and other irresponsible souls abusing this right.)

Stop spamming us

Good news, good news!

Some recent cases of Thought Police train of thought

Have you read the news report last week quoting the mother (?) of Michael Jackson where she said, “The law is different for whites and different for blacks.”? If you didn’t regurgitate a pool of vomit after reading that quote, then you have been victimized by the Thought Police victim mentality.

I wasn’t surprised to see the familiar name of lawyer Johnny Connors today spouting hilarious non-sequiturs in defense of his superstar client. The child sex abuse case becomes unnecessarily a race issue, or some other false issue, just like the celebrated OJ Simpson case, just like the LA riots case of years ago. If media decidedly puts a spin on Jacko’s case as a race issue, then media becomes an accomplice to, if not a willing perpetrator of, the Thought Police crime. It’s good the quote was presented in the right context or it would have provoked riots by blacks once again, with the band of hard-core MJ fans and established “Misery Merchants” only too happy to pounce on the issue to justify their existence.

Back home, I like what Raul J. Palabrica wrote last Sunday where he slammed the senators’ grilling of the cops who figured in the NAIA control tower siege. Aren’t those senators just ridiculous, Palabrica seemed to say, that they forgot it’s Villaruel and Catchillar who initiated the whole thing?!

I realize this is the reason why I’d rather back George Bush’s unpopular war, contrary to my nature as a devout/evangelical Catholic and an artsy-fartsy writer rather than make fundamentalist Muslims, intentionally or unintentionally, as pitiful victims to the extent that their terrorist activities in New York or anywhere else is justifiable (excuse me while I retch).

Appalled

Alexander Robert Santiago, what a terrible, terrible waste!

Jacko’s mug shot

Did you see that? Did you see that? I don’t know whether I should laugh, pity him, or what. What happened to the one black guy we once admired so much that we would insist to moonwalk even when we just could not? God save Michael.

Wishes

I wish I could read the ff. regularly in my favorite broadsheet (won’t say which =)). JB maintains that the most objective newspaper in town is Business World. Is it because you freelance for MenZone (a BW mag), JB?

Essayist and novelist Butch Dalisay. (I like him better as an essayist, never mind the leftist flavor.)

Poet and literary critic Cirilo Bautista. (He dwells too much on life’s miseries esp. poverty; I wish him to be more hopeful. I wish him a little worldly success so he won’t be that bitter.)

eastwind's proems

WEEKLY FOOD FOR THE SOUL batch 94

SUBSCRIBE to: eastwind@edsamail.com.ph

(one reprint from batch 19)

***************************************

Lord let me sing to You

until I am nothing but a song

[1]

***************************************

I have come as Light
into the world

that whoever believes in Me

may not remain in darkness

I do not judge him who hears My Word

and does not keep it

for I came not to judge

but to save the world

the Word that I have spoken

shall be his judge on the last day

john 12:46-48 [x486]

***************************************

You are the spring

after the winter

You thaw the frost

that i may bloom once more

Your warmth overwhelms

the cold that encompass me

You are the drizzle

after the drought

You quench my thirst

You dampen my field once more

that i may reap the abundance

of Your mercy and love

You are the daybreak

after the darkness

so long have i waited

in deep despair

in search of Your light

that I may have hope once more

eastwind [x403]

***************************************

***************************************

A few lessons from Tammy Bruce’s The New Thought Police

(These critiques are really nothing new. They emerged as an inescapable backlash as soon as the politically correct police got what they wanted.)

1. The Thought Police (in my own words) are entities that dictate their group preferences (moral, social, political, philosophical, legal, etc.) without fully revealing where they are coming from. In Bruce’s book, the Thought Police’s hidden agenda is not exactly human liberty but something more practical or shall we say guilefully/hypocritically superficial -- funding.

2. Today’s conservatives (at least in the “great experiment” called America) are the “newly marginalized.” Their voice is deliberately stifled and when they actually speak out, they earn automatic epithets (“racist,” “homophobe” (gay-basher) and “sexist”), if not court injunctions telling them to shut up or else…

3. At its core, Thought Police mentality is moral relativism/double standard, i.e, one morality applies differently to another just because that entity is culturally/sexually/racially different.

4. Thought police mentality, or what Bruce loves to call the “Misery Merchant” or victimhood mentality, is a new and more insidious form of totalitarianism because, through the “groupthink” principle, it dictates what it thinks individuals and society should think, and while at it, purports to be libertarian but in the end undermining human liberties (freedom of speech and freedom of thought).

5. An example of though-policing in action (in the US) is he so-called multiculturalism. Multiculturalism appears on the surface as a protection and perpetuation of native cultures, but it actually promotes balkanization, the isolation of different cultures from each other and from society at large. (Update 11-26-05: Sounds familiar? Federalism? Imperial Manila?)

6. Lack of competition (on the economic level) kills ambition, the fuel of capitalism and capitalist politics.

7. (This is where I have some reservation.) Affirmative action (both as an act of generosity to the marginalized and a form of reparation for institutional neglect) is ultimately insulting to society’s marginalized/minorities. It’s like saying they are too incapable of competing that they should be given special treatment.

8. Beware of how media presents the news, reporters interpret events, media moguls decide which is news and which is not. Beware what the academia thinks about certain issues and how campus journalists are gagged. Beware what the courts deem legal and illegal. Beware how ideologues’ press releases can be passed off as news. (Come on, it doesn’t take a publicist or a PR practitioner to discern whether a corporate event is published or aired as news or just a news filler.) Beware of the subliminal and not-so-subliminal messages of Hollywood movies approved by its overwhelmingly libertarian/Democrat-loving movie moguls and denizens. Beware where an organization’s funding comes from. Beware, beware, beware. (Note: Nothing wrong with Democrats and voting for Democrats.)

9. Let’s watch closely how the Philippine situation fares in the area of thought-policing. Are we a tamer version or one that's characterized by just-as-passionate voices from opposing camps asserting their own version of truth and morality? Is the Catholic Church really the thought police in this country? Is it government, the military or its spin doctors? Is it media outfits? Is it the Left? Read how Dean Jorge Bocobo expertly excoriates Philippine thought police/victim mentality developments in all its manifold splendor at home. Reading him regularly also may help us discern and define the extent - or limits - of human liberty.

Bruce’s Recommended Readings:

Hannah Arendt’s The Origins of Totalitarianism and The Human Condition.

Daniel J. Boorstin.

Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451.

Andrea Dworkin.

Brenda Feigen.

David Horowitz.

Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World.

George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal Farm.

Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead.

Michael Walzer.

Green News

How not to treat a whale shark

Gleanings from my TV

(Reaction to a curious Maalalala Mo Kaya episode)

While going through the motions of trying to sleep some weeks ago, I happened to catch a glimpse of the last third scenes of the life story of the sex-starlet Claudia Zobel in Charo Santos-Concio’s Ch. 2 show. I couldn’t help but stay put with what I saw. I wanted to know how the story would end. I waited whether Ms. “Charo Santos-Conscious” would inject a moral-of-the-story cliché at the end. Of course everybody knows how Zobel’s life story as a show biz wannabe ended – in violent tragedy, a car crash somewhere in EDSA Magallanes.

I was pleasantly surprised, my patient waiting rewarded. Whoever wrote that episode, I tip my sombrero to its writer for this epilogue: “Hindi lahat ng nagngangarap ay nagtatagumpay… Ang importante, may isang taong nangarap at tinangka nitong abutin ang kanyang pangarap sa abot ng kanyang makakaya” or words to that effect. I don’t know about you, but that didn’t sound so cliché to me.

This brings me to my allergy for not just clichés but the issue of requiring an in-your-face moral in art. While you can call me a “moralist” for believing that all art must ultimately glorify God, this does not necessarily mean all stories I want myself to be told must be told with a moral in mind. There are certain genres for that – fables, parables.

I can understand perfectly well when critics routinely complain of works that are preachy. Of course all works have something to say, something to preach, if only we look hard enough. But I agree that the process of telling something should not be one that is too schoolmarmy or clerical for a work of art to be pleasant and pleasurable. A story is simply a story. Not everyone share one’s worldview, so it’s best for the artist such a storyteller to tell something without being pushy, intrusive and judgmental about it, like, revealing a new insight about reality that’s not necessarily moral in nature, or an old reality told in an unconventional manner (focus on the technology of telling the story).

I don’t really complain about stories that warm the soul like chicken soup, movies that please the eyes (eye candy) or works that reassure the mind and the heart of the positive things in life. These are works that sell - what people want, or the market wants. But from time to time, I want to be intrigued and instructed about life while being entertained, I want to discover some things I don’t know about yet.

(I’m glad that excellent writers like Ricky Lee and Jun Lana have found residence in an otherwise generally contemptible medium like TV.)

Stolen press release: Looney Tunes: Back in Action

I hate press releases but this one is lovely. I am sure to queue up for this fun, fun movie.

Bugs Bunny vs. Daffy Duck

David vs. Goliath. Muhammad Ali vs. Joe Frazier. Britney Spears vs. Justin Timberlake.

All pale in comparison to the earth-rending, bone-crushing, carrot-chomping, anvil-dropping, tail-feather-scorching, gleefully epic smackdown that is…Rabbit vs. Duck, in Warner Bros.’ new comedy adventure Looney Tunes: Back in Action.

Joining Bug Bunny and Daffy Duck in the cast are Brendan Fraser, Jenna Elfman and Steve Martin.

In 1930, Warner Bros. debuted the celebrated Looney Tunes series of animated film shorts.

While most of Hollywood movie studios were producing pre-feature cartoon shorts at the time, none became as beloved as the series of irreverent six-minute comedy films featuring early Warner characters, including the unflappable Bugs Bunny, the extremely flappable Daffy Duck and stuttering swine Porky Pig, joined over the next four decades by Elmer Fudd, the Tasmanian Devil, Yosemite Sam, Road Runner, Wile E. Coyote, Tweety Bird and Sylvester, and many, many others.

“Ah, those were the days,” recalls Bugs Bunny. “I was so bright-eyed and bushy tailed…actually, doc, now is the days, too – my eyes are still bright and my tail has never been bushier.”

(as published in PDI, 11.20.2003)

urban legends site

V Doc kindly shared with me this interesting site: www.snopes.com

Hair gels: New source of yet another poison?

What’s this I’ve heard that hair gels, the one you put on everyday to help you look a lot better, contains a pesticide? This means that if wrongly applied on the scalp (which is unavoidable), the pesticide enters your system and is ultimately eliminated via the kidneys - but without first corroding the kidney tissue or something. If this is not another medical canard, then the list has become very long, assuming the ff are true: The wax used in instant noodles to prevent them from sticking is cancerous. The phosphoric acid in Coke and Pepsi has the power to cleanse your bathroom tiles as well bore a hole into your stomach. Improperly stored soft drink aluminum cans may be contaminated by leptospirosis-laden rat urine and feces. Etc.

I heard Jun C. comment that these spams/junk emails are making us all the more paranoid. True. It’s the tyranny of paranoia!

But what if it’s true that my innocuous gel can kill me? “Better be paranoid than be dead,” I guess.

Butterflies and death

Question: Why do strange, wayward butterflies suddenly turn up during somebody’s wake?

Answer: Because condolers bring lots of strange flowers.

***

I need to make myself laugh. I normally don’t get affected enough by the gruesome deaths being reported on TV. Inured is the word.

But not the grisly murder of Betti Chua-Sy. It’s so unfair, so repugnant, so diabolical. The barbarity of it all is a withering assault not just on Betty or her family or all Chinoys and their dreams for a decent life, but on all of us and our innocent dream to get a life, on all of us who survived this horror.

Motivations of God’s Love

This is how our posture should be – always on the lookout for the “motivations of God’s love” behind and in the midst of all the joys and the pains, the hope and the fears.

-quote from Companion (Shepherd's Voice Publications)

The Attack of the Killer Studio-Recording Divas

I dunno if this a social phenomenon already but if my diva-officemates are any indication, it seems that rent-a-recording-studio is the thing these days. Izza and the rest of the gang did it recently, producing an album of pop records at someone’s fingertips – that easy. For P250 for the first three songs and P50 a pop for every song thereafter, anyone who can hit do-re-mi can be Asia’s queen of songs or nightingale.

The gumption of these people! you say? I won’t neigh a pip of protest. Look, even Ivy who couldn’t hit the la-si-do’s had an instant single, complete with all the piyok, asthmatic hingal and wala-sa-tono segments.

Tetcha is the recent rider to this latest office bandwagon. She went to G4’s Karaoke King (near the cinemas) one Tuesday and voila – she has her own album that includes a Lea Salonga single. She went to Café Breton later and sipped café legioise (?) to relax. The next day, she had a bad stomach from the terrible pressure. (Serves her right for wanting to be a studio-recording diva, eh?)

“Forward, always forward, I go,” Tetch vocalized in her instant CD, with a certain musical accuracy ha.

Carlo, the ever-sutil frequenter of Malate’s balahuraan blues, reacted: “Ay, i-forward na yan!”

When it was Izza’s CD that was being played next, the inter-office decision was unanimous: “I-burn na yan!” (“Sunugin na yan!”)

Haay, what kind of social evil came upon us this time?

Reading List

You might want to know what I am reading these days. Well, for the first time in my life, I am embarking on something novel – read the online version of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Let’s see if I can survive such an aggravation.

Also in my flipping hands is Tammy Bruce’s The New Thought Police, an insider’s tell-all about how left-wing groups have successfully hijacked America’s right to free speech and free thought. Bruce is not someone I would gladly invite for dinner but interestingly I agree with almost everything she says here. Bruce is an openly gay, pro-choice, gun-owning feminist who accuses leftists of being pseudo-liberal and methodically imposing a new kind of totalitarianism by controlling private and public thoughts, thanks a lot to their allies in media and government’s legal department.

A leftist writer whose thoughts I find incisive and penetrating is Barbara Ehrenreich (too bad she doesn’t blog). Ehrenreich’s Fear of Falling is outdated but remains a wonderful example of a well-researched extended essay on “the myths about America’s middle class.” I’ve actually read it in the past but am revisiting it for the interesting ideas raised by Ehrenreich.

I also intend to read an Esquire magazine if it is any good, revisit an Archie issue to find out whether it could still make me laugh, a Details article detailing the alleged life of debauchery by the US and European aristocracy to make me feel righteous in spite of being envious, and an interview of T. C. (Coraghessan?) Boyle (an excellent short story writer/novelist) in Poets & Writers. I miss Peter Mayle and his quiet elegance, Haruki Murakami’s surrealism… I don’t quite miss James Ellroy but I like his noir when I’m in the mood for it. Because I love baroque, I miss the likes of Nick Joaquin. I don’t quite miss Hemingway, no thanks.

Do you know where I buy my P50 GQ magazines? In Jollibee’s Bingo stores. The rest I scrounge in Booksale’s trash heap.

Onan, the Barbarian

(Caveat: This is yet another scandalous topic best viewed from a strictly Catholic standpoint. I may be guilty of didacticism but I oppose all forms of thought-police mentality where the mere act of thinking out loud is criminalized. You might find this writeup offensive so stay away.)

There are three schools of thought when it comes to the morality of masturbation.

The first espouses the belief that genital self-stimulation is a natural psychophysiological phenomenon that must be expressed at all cost or else things will explode or get out of hand.

The second holds that onanism is always a mortal sin, period.

The third school maintains that the issue is not so much as masturbation being evil as the reasons for doing it. The action may always be venial sin in itself but it becomes mortal sin only when it becomes habitual or leads to something worse or is done purely out of unadulterated lust.

Society disapproves of masturbating in public, thank God. (Rewind: Singer George Michael being caught "spanking the monkey" in a public restroom and penalized for it.) In fact, it is a social taboo to talk about it at all. (This is my blog so I can talk about it without fear or shame.) The safest way to talk about it is with one's own peers, preferably of the same sex. It makes you wonder then: Most people do the thing yet they are embarrassed at the mere mention of it.

Of course it is not very helpful that the Bible almost never brings up the topic or in the one instance that it actually does, it is at best vague, making its morality highly debatable.

For serious Christians, the choice has always been a toss-up between schools two and three. The message: masturbation is never something to be encouraged among singles.

Predictably most people choose to believe the less-draconian school. Males, like females, also go through a period when they are "in heat." In nonhuman mammals, it is called the estrus or rut; it’s all a matter of physiology. “But natural,” so most scientists say. This period is characterized by high a level of irritability if an outlet to this caustic heat is not found at once, or so many men say (which I take as anecdotal evidence). (Sidebar: This irritability must be the something old maids and bachelors have to contend with the rest of their celibate lives. Another sidebar: Note how there is emphasis of “old” in spinsters, but none in bachelors.)

But most respondents also concede that if one allows nature to take its full course, this period of heat eventually leads to nocturnal emission, making the act of masturbation unnecessary. (There was a recent study claiming that celibacy leaves men at risk of developing prostate cancer. Has this been validated by carefully controlled, reproducible clinical trials or longitudinal studies?)

If a guy finds himself dreaming erotic dreams (that is to say, not having it willfully), in the process ending up stroking his genitals, will that constitute an unchaste act (i.e., less than nature-running-its-physiological-course)? Well, according to a doctor I have talked to, men normally don't have an erection without the mind actively working on it.

On the other hand, a premeditated masturbation is altogether something else. It is viewed by most religious authorities as downright unacceptable (“dirty”). It is claimed to be unjustifiable because it is carried out within full control of one's faculties. Besides, this action is often brought about by various earlier stimuli that excite erotically - again, something which a person either allows passively or decisively.

Self-willed masturbation among singles is therefore considered a sin against purity and chastity.

***

(This part is only for those who have been masturbating since birth and would like to kick the habit.)

But let us not fall into the trap of looking at things in a naive black-or-white way. “We have an optimistic faith!” one priest interviewed on the matter reassures the faithful.

Oftentimes, there is more to masturbation than meets the eye, particularly addictive masturbation. That one finds pleasure in it as a regular hobby like collecting stamps is actually considered a form of spiritual bondage. It's also like acquiring a vice that's almost impossible to break. And as the third school suggests, the problem is not so much about the vice but the reason behind it.

Looking at habitual masturbation as a form of bondage renders it a spiritual issue, and spiritual problems require a spiritual antidote.

There is possibly a host of reasons behind that kind of masturbation – from premature sexual awakening to peer pressure to sheer boredom. But for habitual masturbation, one single reason may stand out as responsible at the root: As in all kinds of addictions, the individual's need to be assured of love may have been unmet one way or another. Addiction to masturbation may be an outward consequence of such a deficiency.

As in all habits, this is not very easy to address, let alone solve. Some cases may warrant counseling or therapy and even long-term spiritual healing.

Healing, needless to say, takes time and necessitates a solid decision and full cooperation of the individual.

In particular, there should be an express desire for purity and chastity. There must be an effort to actually effect change in oneself - whether it be in one's thoughts (reading, videos, private reveries, etc.), words (e.g. jokes), action (e.g. how one dresses up) – in a word, in one’s intention.

One simply has got to hate what is harmful. One has to keep oneself busy lest idleness becomes “playground of the devil” (St. John Bosco). One has to be vigilant about anything that is impure or unchaste so as to render powerless one’s inner demon, which is equally relentless in its effort at making an inroad into one's baser instincts and thus conquer it.

Men are differently tempted; men can be easily ensnared by otherwise innocent stimuli (someone may easily be turned on sexually merely by a woman's graceful gait while another really needs gross pornography as requisite stimulus). The thing is, it's the person who knows best his strengths and limitations and thus how to control himself most effectively.

Any form of healing, however, ultimately requires forgiveness of oneself and of one’s perceived offenders. Only from then can one move ahead. Forgiveness of oneself, especially, must come from a certain decisive choice –- the choice of believing that one is loved for whoever he/she is.

7.30.2000

**

Here's an insightful article I've found on the subject:

Masturbation addiction is probably one of the most
misunderstood of all addictions. There are many who
passionately argue that it is not an addiction but a
perfectly healthy act to do whenever you please. Then
there are those who are addicted and cannot stop and
know that it is not good but have instead lost control
of their life. There are many health professionals who
endorse masturbation and quote a list of supposed
benefits. Also, many parents encourage masturbation in
place of teenage sex. In fact, it seems the only part
of society that discourages masturbation is certain
religions and addiction recovery groups. The rest of
society just isn’t sure what to make of it. Since you
are reading this you are probably confused yourself. I
hope to clarify for you the mental and physical
consequences of masturbation, especially if it has
become an addiction for you.

Mental Consequences of Masturbation

The body is an amazing thing if used correctly. We can
make choices and have feelings we could never have
without the body. Your mood and level of happiness are
directly affected by how you treat your body. When a
person is addicted to masturbation it has a direct
effect on their mental health. First of all, when we
lack control in any area of our life we are not as
happy as we could be if we were in control of that
area. This is especially true with masturbation.

Everyone instinctively feels bad when they misuse the
body. Some people choose to ignore these feelings and
pretend to be happy when they actually are not since
they lack inner peace. Masturbation addiction is the
opposite of self-control and instead your body
controls you. When ever your body feels an urge you
feel like you have no choice but to do what it wants.
This feels enslaving and saps your confidence and your
ability to control your life in many aspects. When we
set out to do a certain thing or accomplish a specific
goal, this gives us confidence in our ability to
control our bodies. When we masturbate, confidence is
all but gone.

Emotionally, masturbation is devastating. Our bodies
were meant to be used for a good purpose and to teahc
us important lessons so that our character would
increase in strength. We were meant to be in control
of our bodies and our destinies, not the other way
around. We become strong and confident by controlling
the body. When we are single that is exactly what we
are supposed to do. The most confident and successful
people in the world are those who have learned
self-control.

When we are married we use our bodies to create a bond
of love with deep feelings of care for the other
person. It is an act of sharing your feelings for the
other person and it produces a union that is never
experienced by the lone masturbator. The single person
should be in control of their body and life before
getting into a marriage otherwise the outcome of the
marriage can easily be predicted. Masturbation is an
act that makes a person selfish since there is no bond
of love and kindness being created. The single person
should be in control and be confident as they maintain
a hope to create a bond of love with someone in the
future. There is nothing more beautiful than two
people in control of their bodies and their lives
coming together in marriage. That is the marriage that
will most likely succeed. Two confident people making
a confident marriage.

Life involves relationships whether dating, at work,
business, or just having fun. When a person
masturbates, the ability to create and maintain
relationships is hindered. Masturbation makes us more
reserved and turns us inward to be concerned mostly
with pleasing ourselves. Relationships are about
caring for others and this is hard to do when we are
being so selfish in private. Masturbation can cause us
to be less outgoing and we may isolate ourselves
from others in shame. We may feel uncomfortable in
crowds because we lack the confidence to conduct
ourselves in a healthy social way. It can affect our
dating relationships and put too much weight on the
physical part of the relationship and ignore the
friendship that should be developing.

“It’s…it’s Mariah!”

This is an exciting piece of news: an officemate of mine who moonlights as a hotel nurse got the surprise of her uneventful life when she met Mariah Carey in person unintendedly. Yes, the diva of pan-continental, exhibitionist beauty – and in her room yet at the Makati Shangri-la.

Here’s how it happened. Mariah’s brother, who came with the superstar, felt kind of ill and asked for the hotel nurse. My officemate, who was on duty at the time, was called upstairs.

She said she was almost harassed by the guard who stood by the door of the room with the way she was interrogated.

Yun pala, he was guarding not just a celebrity’s brother, but the celebrity herself. Seated beside my officemate’s patient was the world-famous diva, who lowered her shades and eyed the intruder with intent.

“I’m too embarrassed to even look straight at her,” my officemate laughed the whole thing off. “I acted like I didn’t know her.”

“She’s so beautiful and sexy! She had lots of freckles.”

She said Mariah checked in under the silly pseudonym, Tinkerbell. I won’t tell you all the other lurid details.

What’s the Matter with the Matrix

What started as essentially a mix of Buddhist, Catholic and existentialist ideas eventually turned screamingly Catholic and so predictably derivative in its third installment. The script is unanimously dismissed as a stretch. The critics are right – the machines (and the special effects) are the real stars of this trilogy. Never has there been SFX more astounding than those of Matrix 3, surpassing even the achievements of Star Wars or Lord of the Rings. But we don’t watch this movie for the effects alone, do we? Matrix 3 deserves a little more credit than us saying it sucks.

Rolan told me the other day that the Wachowski brothers meant the Matrix to be religious on an even, uh, deeper level – Neo (the human being) is Jesus, the Architect is God the Creator, the Oracle is the Holy Spirit; Agent Smith, I suppose, is the Devil; what about Trinity? – is she supposed to be literal? What can I say? In fairness, these underpinnings are discernible to anyone who wen't to kindergarten. My IQ is too low and my patience too short to understand the whole thing, though. It's one thing to be engaing, another to be taxing.

Addendum to Yes and No

No, nyet, nein, hindi to karag cars, sidewalk vendors (they’re thwarted in Novaliches; they’re back in Bicutan, Taguig).

Yes, oui, ja, da, oo, si to bullet trains and expressway rush-hour counterflow.

Things writerly that happened to me lately:

1. P. texted me through L. to ask permission to publish a critique had written here. I never emailed my comments to P. because I was worried I might offend her and her staff, but surprise, surprise, she expressed interest in my extra-strength Halloween blather. Let’s see how she’d edit it.

2. I met with fellow bottom-feeders, I mean, freelancers JB and Candy over lunch and thought up of ideas on how best to move up the food chain. (My contacts are expanding (wink, wink).) JB examined me and Candy with contempt when Candy and I revealed we are the shy types.

3. Members of PW have a chance to meet K.F. next week for a travel writing talk. Unfortunately I’m too busy with this Christmas play (The Fourth Magi) involving high school and college kids. (Gil Dypiangco is lending an able hand in the blockings; I’m the useless dakilang alalay.) Besides, chances are high that I would chicken out at the last minute.

4. Was able to publish one third of an antiquated article I had given up for deleted.

Please, Sport-persons are not Heroes

Maybe it’s because I hate boxing as a sport, but already, I couldn’t stomach it when the press calls our homecoming champs “heroes”. It’s the same thing with calling our overseas contract workers heroes instead of the accidental heroes that they truly are. Maybe I’m just begrudging the fact that Manny what’s-his-face won US$34,000 (?) for being a hero. My idea of a hero is somebody who has made a supreme sacrifice and was correspondingly bludgeoned by his/her people’s oppressors for it. There is the element of conscious choice – the choice to suffer without ever seeing the payback in his/her lifetime. That Delasin girl and that Pagulayan guy, isn’t she an American citizen, and he Canadian? This is something William hates so much: Are we so lacking in heroes at home that we declare one’s winning a game as something heroic, even when that person is Filipino only by his/her heritage? So violence has been Hollywoodized, horror has been Disneyfied. Does sportsmanship have to be ‘martyrized’ and canonized as well?

Tired of Blogging

I’m sorry if anyone missed my posts. This early, I’m getting tired of posting, which could possibly mean I’m starting to have a life. It could mean I’m getting tired of being a professional slacker in private life, to say nothing of having no social/public life.

True enough, I’m getting quite interested in starting anew an exercise regimen, meaning, doing something else other than the desultory morning jog which is useless. There’s nothing like vanity as an incentive. I have noticed I have put on some weight and you know what they say about the ease of putting on weight and the difficulty of burning it.

One morning in a past Breakfast interview with Bam Aquino, I heard Dr. Vicky Belo say that one way to avoid gaining weight is to eat six little meals every day. She said this strategy hastens the body’s metabolic rate, hence the ability to burn calories faster. (Did you know that this liposuction expert to the stars is – I can’t believe this – the mother of the young movie director Quark Henares?!? Quark must be Larry Henares’ apo (from which Henares son?).)

I think, from a physiological point of view, this means I can just eat and eat whatever and whenever I want as long as I mind the keywords “six” and “little”? And as long as I move my butt on a regular basis?

One bad thing about gaining weight is it affects my “japorms” and adds bulk to the bulge on my cheek. These two factors are giving me negative pogi points, the horror. If I’m overprotective about my pogi points, it’s because I know I can never afford to have a trophy wife. I had to run to the law of compensation for recourse. I’m resigned to the fact that women look at men not just as sex object but as an economic objects. They are sexually attracted to men who can give them much moolah. Have you heard of that much-spoofed shampoo commercial – “Para akong nakapag-asawa ng mayaman! Di ko na kailangang magpa-rebond!” (What the heck is rebond? It’s simply hair-straightening, said Techie.) I cannot blame women – it’s probably in their nature. I cannot blame them if they don’t look at me closely and often enough.

***

I know I’m scraping bottom when my last blog’s leading headline before this is trumpeting a certain ChowKing product, but the truth is, I feel too disappointed to write because of the ff. developments: Ping Lacson’s Kuratong Baleleng case is dismissed by Judge Yadao. Rod Strunk is acquitted by the US Supreme Court as suspect in Nida Blanca’s gruesome murder.

Since we’re on the subject… I was able to catch an episode of ISPUP over Channel 5 lately where Willy Nepomuceno adroitly spoofed Ping Lacson as Pink Lacson winning an apply-make-up-on-this-baboy’s-face-contest. In that skit, Pink won over Siraulo Roco and a spoof of VP Teofisto Guingona. The other numbers I found more acerbic than amusing, so I switched on to MTV’s latest incarnation of Jackass just to feel better. (Sigh.)

eastwind's proems

From this day onwards, I will publish all the prayer poems (proems) by freelance writer Bernardo V. Lopez, who has graciously given me his permission. I hope you will find these proems useful like I do. Other than sharing his insights on Philippine politics and the economy (PDI Commentary), Mr. Lopez also frequently writes about the miraculous work of the healing nun, Sr. Raquel (RVM) in Novaliches, Q.C. You may email Sr. Raquel through Mr. Lopez in this address: eastwind@edsamail.com.ph.

what the Lord has hidden

from the learned and the wise

He has revealed to mere children

matthew 11:25 [24]

***************************************

no one can hurt you

without your consent

if someone insults you

you first have to will it

before you are hurt

smile at their insults

laugh away their anger

pay back arrogance with humility

and your soul shall

forever be at peace

only you have the power

to change your world

of unrest and strife

into a world of peace and harmony

you dictate to be calm or agitated

eastwind [16]

***************************************

the way you look at things

molds your destiny

a flower seen as thorny or pretty

a view feared as a precarious chasm

or awed as a verdant valley

your destiny is in your hands

the world does not form you

you form yourself in the world

with your perspective

the window of your soul

your perspective is your power

borrow the eyes of the Lord

when you look at the world

see what He sees

a world fraught with peace based on kindness



eastwind [19]

My Favorite First Blog

"In the beginning was the blog, and the blog was with Bog, and the blog was Bog. So many opinions, so little basis. So many ideas, so few of them good. So much information, so little of it useful. From my size 7½ head to cyberspace...."

- from Jack Bog's Blog

Is Homosexuality Genetic?

People, I hope you appreciate my effort in discussing things like this, especially when I help seek all possible explanations - including the unprovable. Just one word: The quest for truth does not include the desire to offend.

Among other potentially incendiary questions tackled in this commentary by Brian S. Mustanski (Indiana University, Department of Psychology, 1101 East 10th St., Bloomington, IN 47405, USA, email: bmustans@indiana.edu) and Michael Bailey (Northwestern University, Evanston, Illinois, USA) as published in Sexual Relationship Therapy (Vol. 18, No. 4, Nov. 2003), a journal of the British Association for Sexual and Relationship Therapy:

"Is sexual orientation genetically determined?"

"If sexual orientation is heritable, does that mean it is moral, compelled, immutable, and innate?"

"Is there or will there be a genetic test for homosexuality?"

Let's cut to the chase and jump to the concluding paragraph, which also serves as the abstract:

"Mental health professionals are likely to be asked questions about the relationship between genes and sexual orientation. Although there are many questions that cannot be answered at this time, there is sufficient relevant scientific data to allow some definitive statements to be made. First, homosexuality does appear to run in families, although it is not clear as of yet if male and female homosexuality runs in the same families. Second, twin studies have established that genes play a substantial role in explaining individual differences in sexual orientation. Third, there is some evidence that a region on the X chromosome may influence male sexual orientation, but further research is needed and is underway. When communicating this information it is important to appreciate the fact that the heritability of a trait provides little information about the extent to which it is compelled, immutable, innate, or most importantly, acceptable. All people should be treated with equal dignity and respect regardless of their sexual orientation. We encourage therapists to use conversations about the genetic basis of sexual orientation as a launching point for further discussions about acceptance of homosexual orientations in clients or their family members."

Xenophobic in Greenbelt 2

I can be a painfully shy person that it's almost impossible for me to come out alive just walking from that street fronting the Asian Institute of Management to that sidewalk where you pass by Temple Bar, Nuvo, Pepato, Uva, etc.

My favorite spot in this area of Greenbelt is the garden path leading to Max where there are no people, just palms and palms in all their varied fronds (imported anahaw, champagne palm, I dunno if there's a fishtail palm, though.)

Depending on who's looking, the only trouble spot would probably be Piolo Pascual's cardboard statue smiling at you in the end. Be thankful it's not Rico Yan (may he rest in peace).

Anyway, I relish every moment of every morning I get to pass by this spot. It's because this very happening place transforms magically by sundown as it slowly fills up with all sorts of urbanites on a night prowl - some like cats in heat, some trying to exhibit themselves to talent scouts, potential papas and mamas, potential sponsors (sugar daddies and sugar mommies), possible paparazzi, etc. (There's a gay lingo for it - rumarampa.) I assume most people just want to chill out for the night.

This place is a nightmare for someone like me who has a certain phobia for certain people. But this place is not just interesting because it is beautifully manicured and sculpted. What makes it really interesting is the crowd. Too bad I'm too shy to people-watch because I have this feeling that they'd watch me back.

ChowKing's King's Platter - A Carnivores' Roar of Delight

Rising from its former incarnation as a dowdy Chinese fastfood, ChowKing under new management decides to spruce up, refurbish, and dress up almost-formal to capture a larger share of the market and perhaps a more snobbish clientele. Among its major improvements is its breakfast combo line especially the abovementioned.

The King's Platter proves that Pinoy cold cuts can be packaged and presented in a world-class way and give those Hungarian sausages and German frankfurters a run for their forints and deutschmarks. (The idea has also been tried in such establishments as the Country Waffle, where you can order beef tapa, and I think the defunct Cafe Rizal and Kapelikula.)

Will somebody market this idea and if it makes you rich, well, you can contact me for my bank account. Why not a Pinoy cold cuts platter with this composition: Lucban longanisa, Vigan longanisa, the usual longanisa, Majestic® ham, Chinese sweet ham, chorizo de Bilbao, Chinese chorizo, tapa, tocino, chicken tocino, chicken longanisa, embotido, and morcon.

Of course, instead of sauerkraut and mustard, we'll have different vinegars (sukang Iluko, sukang Paombong, etc.), Kikkoman soy sauce, catsup, and spices.

What to do if your mom discovers your blog

This is getting curiouser and curioser... Click on Blogger's reaction to The Onion article.

A God in Hiding

Is God a secret, silent orchestrator? Does He set things in motion in ways we never expect? Is it His unseen finger that directs the fate of a person, the history of nations, the history of the world, the fate of the universe?

Who can fathom the mind of God? What statistics and physical laws govern it? What plans lie waiting to unfold? What are His agendas? Every ticking of the clock is subject to His whims. Who knows what he's up to next? What if He did this or that?

Is God not behind every bloom and wilting, thunder and rain, the baying of the horse, the flap of a wing?

Isn't God in control even when things go awry, run haywire? Doesn't He allow certain things to happen for a reason? He could have said no and that would be it. But sometimes He seems to say 'Go ahead and Go on, I'll tell you when the time is up.' In times like these, we feel like He is not there, but He is; if He's the God that is omnipresent, omnipotent, and never-changing, the only constant in the universe, then He must be.

Our God is a God who is slow, not given to apoplectic fits. If He gives out blessings, He seems to make sure they are so delayed that we are caught by surprise. He has this habit of bringing back the smile on our lips just when we are about to lose hope. And when He metes out punishment, he makes sure it is long overdue and we've been given more than enough chance.

Our lifetime is just a wink to God, a thousand years just a week to Him. To Him, sad beginnings could be a prelude to something great, happy endings could actually be just the start of new beginnings. So the things we see as abrupt, unfair or unjust may not always be the case for Him. He sees through generations, through ages and eons. He has the vantage point of eternity. Nothing escapes His notice, every detail taken into account.

If the scale tips for or against our favor, He seems to wait and wait until He comes to a decision. He seems to weigh and reweigh His options. He seems to give out messages in the guise of people's voices and disparate events. He places us within certain circumstances as though He wanted to remain anonymous for the moment. When His moment of illumination comes, everyone realizes He was the One, the One who's been moving things all along.

The God of history must be at least a secret, silent observer, if not a hidden orchestrator. He remains in hiding up to now, His fingers clutching tight at His blueprint of the universe lest someone who wants to be God steals it. He makes sure we know nothing about it lest we'd lose our reason for needing Him.

If the God of history hides, it must be because seeing Him face to face is the reward, beholding His glorious work of salvation in the intricate intertwining of our lives the revelation.

4.22.2001

Is Gabriel Garcia Marquez Dying?

I got this from the mail today. Hope it's not another hoax. I figure that if he's really on the verge, then he must be writing poetry instead. Oh, that's Pablo Neruda.

When Gabriel Garcia Marquez retired from public life due to cancer of the
lymph nodes, he sent a farewell letter to his friends, and thanks to the
Internet, it is spreading. I recommend that you read it. This short text,
written by one of the most brilliant Latin American writers in recent times,
is truly moving.

"If for an instant God were to forget that I am a rag doll and gifted
me with a piece of life, possibly I wouldn't say all that I think, but
rather I would think of all that I say. I would value things, not for
their worth but for what they mean. I would sleep little, dream more,
understanding that for each minute we close our eyes we lose sixty
seconds of light. I would walk when others hold back, I would wake
when others sleep. I would listen when others talk, and how I would
enjoy a good chocolate ice cream!

If God were to give me a piece of life, I would dress simply, throw
myself face first into the sun, baring not only my body but also my
soul.

My God, if I had a heart, I would write my hate on ice, and wait for
the sun to show. Over the stars I would paint with a Van Gogh, dream a
Benedetti poem, and a Serrat song would be the serenade I'd offer to
the moon. With my tears I would water roses, to feel the pain of
their thorns, and the red kiss of their petals...

My God, if I had a piece of life... I wouldn't let a single day pass
without telling the people I love that I love them. I would convince
each woman and each man that they are my favorites, and I would live
in love with love. I would show men how very wrong they are to think
that they cease to be in love when they grow old, not knowing that
they grow old when they cease to be in love! To a child I shall give
wings, but I shall let him learn to fly on his own. I would teach the
old that death does not come with old age, but with forgetting. So
much have I learned from you, oh men...

I have learned that everyone wants to live on the peak of the
mountain, without knowing that real happiness is in how it is scaled.

I have learned that when a newborn child squeezes for the first time
with his tiny fist his father's finger, he has him trapped forever. I
have learned that a man has the right to look down on another only
when he has to help the other get to his feet. From you I have
learned so many things, but in truth they won't be of much use, for
when I keep them within this suitcase, unhappily shall I be dying."

GABRIEL GARCIA MARQUEZ

State-of-the-World Address

(To my generation, 1960s-1980s, from your friendly megalomaniac)

World icons are slipping away fast, as fast as global ideologies have come and gone. Mother Teresa. The pope (who's always reported to be gravely ill). Nelson Mandela (whose curly black hair has turned gray). Who's next - the dalai lama? The other week, the widow of Chiang Kai-Shek passed away. At home, Cardinal Sin has retired. Cory Aquino feels old and says she's ready to die. Only Imelda Marcos seems to be in possession of the fountain of youth, so watch out for the time she says she's tired of it all. (In the latest report, she shows a bandaged knee.)

They are all bequeathing to us a world not exactly in tatters, but one that has been torn apart and mended, torn again and mended again. They have left us with so many advancements, but they have also left us with an equal amount of challenges. It is an inheritance that is at best fragile. It is that kind of world that we now carry on our shoulders. We pray that it is a hopeful one. In choosing hope, we choose life.

***

We were born into a world that was no stranger to turmoil, but if we look at today's state of affairs, our generation (late 1960s to late 1980s) would look far gentler. If we look further back, it would appear that, indeed, what we have learned from history is that we have never learned from it. We never expected that the path leading up to the 21st century would be pockmarked with things like subway terrorists, airplane hijackers, serial killers, racial genocide, assisted suicides, oil price increases, globalization, the euro and other economic onslaughts, AIDS virus and incurable diseases, cloned sheep and biotechnological breakthroughs, or is it catastrophes.

We're no strangers to generational gap but we never realized we might be one day initiating it ourselves. Consider a generation weaned on instant gratification, relative lack of cause and hardships, consequent boredom, and one whose idea of fun is hanging out in the mall.

When free sex, rock-and-roll and the hippie culture reigned supreme, we thought being a rebel was exciting until we heard of today’s preponderance of date rape, pre-teen pregnancies, cybersex, phone sex, sex change, gay sex, sex orgies. Gangster rap, trash metal, and death metal didn't quite occur to us as music before.

A lot of times we shrug our shoulders in helplessness. But just when we turn completely cynical, some clouds with silver lining would burst forth with the accompaniment of thunderbolts. Consider EDSA revolution and the downfall of despots, the demolition of the Berlin Wall and the ripping off of the Iron Curtain, the consequent disintegration of the former USSR, and the end of apartheid.

When the first man landed on the moon, we thought we have reached the apex of scientific human achievement. Now we find ourselves catching up to learn Microsoft Word and Excel, as run on the latest iteration of Pentium. We throw away our cassette tapes and collect CDs, VCDs, DVDs in their stead, each version becoming obsolete on the day they are purchased. We learn to shop using plastics; make bank withdrawals without making a single human contact; send e-mails and text messages (pagers have become obsolete as videoconferencing becomes feasible). We brush up on such terms as real-time and nanosecond. We watch MTV on cable TV, surf the Net, do home TV shopping.

Of course we expected that the advent of jet planes and bullet trains would speed up everything as well: fast foods, easy money, instant Worhol-ish celebrity. It's only logical. Perplexingly, however, we would wake up one day to find ourselves locked up in a traffic gridlock. Then we find immediate necessity in building the Skyway, LRT, MRT, flyovers, underpasses. Technophiles before us have invented all sorts of machines to make life easier, but strangely we find ourselves constantly pressed for time. At the threshold of these global changes, we breathe irony and further polarization of diametric oppositions - and seem to revel in it.

Apocalyptic subjects seemed unthinkable then, or whenever it crossed our minds, it was at least a taboo subject. But look at the issues of the day now, all practically breakfast fare: endangered species, projected exhaustion of natural resources, Ebola and other yet-incurable viruses, nuclear bombs, Marian apparitions, prophets of doom, planetary bombardment by asteroids and comets, and possible life on planet Mars.

***

So we think we all have the right in the world to get angry, go crazy, tremble in fear, or pull the trigger and put an end to everything. But through it all, we manage to stay alive and stay calm, sane, hopeful, and puzzlingly, even well-balanced for it.

It's high time we received a self-congratulatory pat on the back. No one else will give that for us. Our time has come; it's now our turn. We may not be smart enough, we may be a bit flustered, we may give a somewhat cowardly turn. But we will not face the future unarmed with the knowledge and experience of the past. Nor will we forge ahead without hope for an armor.

9.19.1999

Updated 11.14.2003

Jackie Lou, Ikaw Ba Yan? (Is that You?)

Don't mistake that line with coach Robert Jaworski's classic, "This is you…, …this is you."

I watched a Probe Team feature on Filipino bodybuilders two nights ago. I find those bodies unnatural and quite frankly, unsightly. In working out for that perfect muscle definition, they forget proportion and end up looking like toads.

Gay Men are not Incapable of Sex with Women

This is what we have learned from the examples set by the late beautician Jun Encarnacion, the hilariously surly radio announcer Tita Swarding, and a number of other such cases. "No matter what gays say, they are still guys."

Yes to the Single-Dispatch System!

Yes to single-dispatch system. No to 'free-for-all' on the road. Yes to self-regulation. No to overloaded tricycles, jeeps, FX taxis, buses. Yes to seatbelts. No to "sabits." Yes to safe and fast transport. No to daredevils on the road. Yes to government inspection, regulation, preventive maintenance and proactive measures. No to smoke-belching and blare of horns and white noise. Yes to reasonable profit for PUJ drivers and operators. No to unwarranted oil price hikes and overcharging. Yes to improved working conditions for the PUJ driver. No to cutting trips and the brazen absence of the spirit of service. Yes to public transport schemes that consider the plight of commuters and PUJ drivers as though they actually exist. Yes to the legalization of FX taxis. No to colorums, fixers and LGU and PNP protectors/tong collectors. Yes to clear sidewalks and public parks and free public parking spaces and pedestrian lanes and overpasses/underpasses. No to squatting syndicates which appropriate the sidewalk as their property. Yes to employment opportunities. But no to flouting of the law and the wanton disregard for the rights of others. Yes to high police visibility. No to hoboes/homeless vagrants. Yes to discipline. No to arrogance. Yes to visible government initiative. No to press release and payola in the media. Yes to dialog and democratic consultation. No to apathy. Yes to order. No to anarchy.

'Mom finds out about blog'

This is sooo funny! Got it from The Onion.

An Overkill in Answer to an Overkill

The fallen former ATO Chief Panfilo Villaruel as the new Ninoy Aquino? Mr. Pastor Saycon, that's too much! Villaruel broke into one vital installation of the country, for Pete's sake. We are against the Kuratong Baleleng rubout, we may even question Fathur Rohman Al-Ghozi's manner of death, but if anybody else did what Villaruel had done, he deserves a shoot-to-kill order.

I am loath to defend policemen because I am always reminded of Blas Ople's immortal line, "Every time you scratch a crime, there's a uniform underneath." But this time, I am on the side of our police. I believe the police force - in spite of stories of enrolment bribery, hazing and Rosebud Ong's incrimination of Ping Lacson - remains a good force at the core. They are our assigned protectors, for Pete's sake. From time to time, if they are not hearing a mouthful from us, they deserve our loyalty and support.

Surely Villaruel is not alone? Imagine what would have happened if our policemen behaved like Irma Daldal's 'perlas na bilog.' (Do you remember that line in the Tagalog children's show Batibot?: "Bah-be-bi-bo-buh… Perlas na bilog, huwag tutulog-tulog.")?

J'Impeach!

Dear Apa,

You know what, other than I am swamped by work these days, I find it distasteful to discuss this ugly impeachment issue because it is as complicated as it is annoying.

Since I found the time na rin lang, here's my two centavos' worth:

I believe we should never look at the impeachment issue at face value. We ought to ask: Who are Davide's impeachers? What are their accusations? Are their accusations factual and sensible? Was there really a deliberate act of graft and corruption on the part of Davide? What did the COA people say? What do former judges and other lawyers say? (Be careful with lawyers, though. They seldom agree on anything, and because they often come off as smarter than you are, you tend to say yes to them all the time.)

What are the NPC congressmen/-women's motives? Oh come on, is it really about democracy? The Constitution (the only valid scapegoat, as far as I can see)? Or is it about the NPC head's (Danding's) businesses and his pending cases (SMC ownership and the coco levy) which stand to lose in Davide's hands?

Who are these ardent nationalists and sudden heroes of the day that they are spouting and spewing suspiciously high-sounding cant about democracy and all that bull manure? Why the sudden change of tacks when the issue should have been limited to the desire of court employees for a much-prayed-for salary increase?

From where I am squatting, Indian-style, Danding's congressmen/-women ingeniously exploited the loophole of the law (why oh why should one-third of congressmen constitute a majority?) to demonstrate that they have the power to impeach a Supreme Court judge. I think these politicians want those forces who had overthrown Erap to taste the same bitter fate that befell them.

But we were not born yesterday, were we? The people are not that dumb. Why the sudden familiar polarization of sides as in EDSA 1? I believe all this hullabaloo has still something to do with Erap's extra-constitutional ouster. Some people just could not accept it that Erap was ousted without the benefit of due process. These people believe it was a betrayal of democracy and the constitution. They believe EDSA 2 was merely a Manila event (!), the middle classes' and the Catholic Church's arrogation of their political preferences, that most people in the Philippines would rather have Erap still as president (huh?), that GMA needs to legitimize her presidency by winning the 2004 elections, that the judiciary ruled in favor of Erap's enemies outside the bounds of the law, etc. etc. Ok, fine. They are right in certain points of the argument.

But they could also be very wrong. Ikaw ba, seriously, didn't you feel betrayed by Erap's corrupt style of presidency, all those unbelievable associates and public and private shenanigans? Didn't you feel shamed, embarrassed as a Filipino? Didn't you feel mocked with unparalleled arrogance by those eleven senators when they famously refused to let that stupid envelope be opened, etc. etc.?

Wait, who made EDSA 2 happen? It's mostly the young people who knew how to send e-mails and text messages. Remember e-lagda? Weren't you guys a signatory? These people could not possibly have an IQ of a snow pea?

In that dark moment of our already-colorful history, the law may not have been observed to the letter, but I believe its spirit was. It was a second exercise (after EDSA 1) of direct democracy that remains unparalleled even in the most democratic of nations (USA, UK, European nations, Australia) to the point that even observers in those countries felt appalled, then resorted to sour-graping and eventually disdained our two shining moments in world history as "mob rule"!

I believe we should all see these events in their entire context. What happened and what was our response? What were our motives? What was theirs? Was it guilty of any agenda or utterly selfish, out of political expediency?

We should consider everything that happened and judge for ourselves whether we have done what we should have.

Aaaargh,

!@#$%^&^*)(&)^#%

Even Straight Men Can Be Very Creative

The gay and lesbian community cannot just have a monopoly of creativity. I know straight men and straight women who are as creative but they never make a fuss about it. This I-am-gay-ergo-I-am-creative mentality automatically makes creative but straight people unnecessarily suspect. Not that it's such a big deal. The point is, creativity doesn't have anything to do with one's sexuality.

French Baker - Unlikely Panaderya for the Masses (Apres Office Hours)

I am not embarrassed to admit that from time to time Ricky buys our dose of European-style breads from French Baker's daily 50%-off closing-time sale. Only French Baker's boulangerie has made the pedestrian Pinoy familiar with breads and pastries beyond the lowly pan de sal and kababayan -- danish, pies/turnovers, tarts, croissants, ciabattas, foccacias, baguettes, rye bread, oat bread, pones, scones, pumpernickel, bagels. (Auntie Anne's, of course, would later emerge as a special niche for bagels and lemonade. There, too, are the old reliables -- Dulcinea for the churros y chocolate 'eh' and deliriously delicious banana-melon-apple-strawberry shake, and Pancake House's pancakes.) It's unfortunate, however, that I am allergic to the yeast in breads; breads make me feel tired.

A Harmless Stroll in San Lorenzo Ville

I was in Andrew E.'s "San Lorenzo Ville" last Friday with some friends and was surprised to discover a sizeable patch of greenery a few paces away from the defunct spaceship that was Mars Disco (Pasay Rd./Arnaiz cor. Makati Av.).

There I saw not just notorious Andrew's archetypal "Ana," but also one of the sons of a famous celebrity couple. He was throwing a boomerang, or was it a Frisbee.

For once, I got quite envious and wished we, the less fortunate ones, could play freely like that in a public park like theirs. I sorely miss Baguio's Burnham Park where just plain walking around or watching a soccer game was an indelible experience. (Luneta? What Luneta? That's like one planet away.)

This brings me to the subject of fenced-in Pleasantvilles as deliberate social snobbery. The exclusivity says it all actually. Residents of exclusive villages are living a very much sheltered life, and they can afford to exist without ever knowing about the greater reality beyond their guard house.

MMDA Chair Bayani Fernando was kind of right when he voiced out the need for Makati's wealthy enclaves to open up their roads for public transport ("Susmaryosep, what a blasphemous, unthinkably presumptuous idea! I'll call my lawyer(s)!"). I have a number of friends who actually live in such villages, but it doesn't take a genius to see how unfair for exclusivist villagers to use pubic roads - our roads, while their own roads are off-limits to the rest of us, the non-perfumed set - and purposefully so.

In the so-called village where I live, residents of a bigger subdivision nearby use our cramped village roads daily and yet you can't drive to their place without a special sticker. What arrant double standard! I don' like pitting the rich against the poor because it is such a naïve, simplistic worldview, but ours is one glaring example. (Paging Mr. Isagani Cruz, Merville resident, shouldn't you rather look into this?)

But Chairman Bayani was also kind of wrong. If I were a famous person or a famous person's son, I will feel comfortable only in a place where I can be myself most freely. If I were some hotshot, I, too, would never allow outsiders to encroach on my turf. That's what I've worked so hard for - the exclusivity and the security. And I have a reason to be fearful, given the crime rate and the inability of government to curb vote-rich squatting syndicates. (For sure, many of our most ardent nationalists live in such villages? I wonder what they have to say.)

But as an outsider having a taste of a plush subdivision's property for the first time, I had a mixture of feelings -- I feel like a tourist, an unwelcome outsider and intruder, if not a member of the Akyat Bahay gang, and a second-class citizen in a country I've decided to love.

Inevitably, then, it dawns on me: As long as there's such a great chasm in this country's, and this world's, distribution of goods and the opportunity for social mobility between the haves and the have-nots, there shall always be communists and socialists in our midst. (Small wonder the NPAs still thrive in these parts in spite of the many divisions in the Communist Party.)

Exclusive villagers should thank their lucky stars I don't count myself among the communists. They should thank their lucky stars I'm just Tobey Maguire suddenly sucked in a world of make-believe, as in the movie. Imagine the number of followers I could muster with just one wink!

Please give us our Central Park.

My Brother is not a Pork! 2

There's no restraining Tetchie when it comes to matters porcine. She has breaking news this morning.

"Scientific rumors claim that if you marinate a slab of pork in a bottle of Coke, parasitic worms will come out. There's so many potential diseases you can catch from eating pork."

"But then…everything dies when cooked," I counter. "It's raw pork that's dangerous."

Tetch holds her ground with a steely face.

I hold mine with a porcine face. "I guess I just have to drink Coke whenever I eat pork, oink?"

Oink!

Commuter

(dedicated to Jejomar Binay and Bayani Fernando)

One who spends his life

In riding to and from his wife;

A man who shaves and takes a train

And then rides back to shave again.

– E. B. White, 1929

Why the Binays of Makati are Indestructible

If you didn't know it yet, the senior citizens of Makati City have a good reason to make the Binays an eternal dynasty - or at least an invincible political force to reckon with. It's because senior citizens of this city are spoiled - like all senior citizens should, and spoiled unlike anywhere in the country. I heard from permanent Makati resident Badong that Makati's senior people can watch movies for free, get a little something on their birthdays, and when they pass away, they are never forgotten by the Mayor's office.

Jejomar Binay, Badong said, refuses to socialize with Makati's more powerful and sosyal residents, but he keeps on winning because he truly has a heart for the poor, or at least knows his way to their hearts.

How can Mon Tulfo badmouth a politician like that?

Say, Mayor Jejo, sir, would you please demolish the old, unused, and unsightly overpass in Magallanes and build another for a most neglected sector of Makati society, your constant transients -- commuters? Squatters have turned the overpass into their own residents; would you find alternative homes for these people? Would you make our working lives a little bit easier?

Applause, Applause for MMDA (Again)

If something is laudable, make your applause audible. Or so said an old adage.

Thank you, MMDA, for cleaning our street in Pasong Tamo Ext.! You all deserve a kiss.

Now will you please complete the good work by rescuing that ugly dog tethered in front of our building? How could someone get so powerful and arrogant as to chain his dog to a street frequented by hundreds of pedestrians? How can someone be so heartless as to chain a dog to a balete tree and leave the poor schnauzer at the mercy of the elements? How can anyone lay claim to that little public space and cause it to accumulate so much dog and human refuse? Where are the animal rights people in this city and what are they doing?

From 'Soci' to 'Jolog' -- In Minutes

I had a classy evening with my officemates Saturday. Gorgeous (Alma when she is offensive) rounded up seven of us to meet at the Greenbelt 3 Food Choices. It's on her so what can we do? Only the daft would resist.

We meant to bar hop but, on a spur of the moment, Gorgeous decided to go high-end. We proceeded to Una Mas, a Spanish-cuisine restaurant in Greenbelt 2. For the P395 buffet, here's what we had: fried cheese salad (cheese in bread crumbs, shredded cabbage, balsamic vinegar), fried veggies (wrapped in phyllo?), baked mussels, steamed oysters, two kinds of paella, pollo pastel, mahi-mahi fillet (in tartar sauce), fettucine, fruit platter (assorted), maja blanca, and assorted gelatins.

Mahi-mahi fillet was single-handedly voted as a winner.

We went to Café Breton for a nightcap. We had mango crepes (a la mode), green tea, and cappuccino. Gorgeous had strawberry slush.

This watering hole (Greenbelt 3) is indeed a paradise on earth -- romantic lights, lovely landscape, beautiful people. The only discordant note was the shirt I chose to wear. I had bought this nice-fitting shirt from American Boulevard which has coconut-trees-at-the-beach-scene and says "Ocho Rios, Jamaica." The white cotton tee has royal-blue ring around the collar and a pair of the same rings edging the sleeves. I thought it was really cool and I paraded myself with uncharacteristic (i.e., put-on) confidence and nonchalance as I strode off from place to place.

On my way home, what would greet me on the Magallanes Cloverleaf but a gigantic ad by Bench featuring Dao Ming Sze in a similar shirt. The only difference is, the shirt says '"love ko bench."

And the Sunday I woke up to read the papers, 'meteoric star' Jerry Yan was sporting the same danged shirt as he faced the media the day before. The worst part of it is, droves and droves of his squealing female fans wore that very same shirt.

No wonder Gorgeous was avoiding me when I cozied up to her as we were strolling down Greenbelt 3.

My Brother is not a Pork

Tetch, one of the more sober characters in the office - a workplace of crazy people (with whom I have declared war), has stopped eating pork for health reasons.

Of course I couldn't help but pry. Over lunch of pork - sinful fat dripping on the rice like a virtue, I ask her, "How could you forego the adorable flavors of pork?"

She cite the following reasons: "It's because of what I read about pork. I've tried not eating pork for a very long time and, true enough, I now feel lighter, better, healthier. I feel less grumpy. I feel I'm not prone to disease. Etc. etc."

She adds, "And if you consider that cows eat only grass…"

Call it psychosomatic, psychological, or placebo effect, but Tetch is making sense to me. "Oo nga 'no," I say, "Ano'ng kinakain ng baboy? Di ba puro…kaning baboy?"

We both contemplate the murdered pig on my plate.

Then we look over to the other side of the table where Mac and Marvin pretend not to hear a thing. They are having a slab of delicious lechon kawali.

"I've read somewhere that pigs can process food poisons that's why they never get poisoned," I attest, more to convince myself than convince Tetch. "But where does all that poison go? Most likely they are stored as fats!" I conclude triumphantly.

But wait. "I've also read that pork is reputedly an excellent food for the brain."

Now that's the clincher. I may be willing to swear pork off my diet but I am left with one excuse so strong it's actually a motivation.

I revert my attention to Mac and Marvin, still busy chewing the pork fat - literally. Making a face, I tell them, "Alam n'yo, kung maka-order kayo ng baboy, para kayong mga... Abu Sayyaf!"

The Faith, Hope and Love Measurement Scale (version 1.1)

How do you discern whether you've done the right thing in any situation?

This may sound like a Rotary Club set of mottoes (which make a lot of sense) but I believe the priest made a lot more sense last Friday when he asked the ff. guidelines:

Have I been faithful?

Have I been hopeful?

Have I acted out of love?

***

A great part of me is very cynical. Cynicism is one of my most serious sins. Why? Because cynicism is pregnant with a multitude of other offenses. If God wants me to stay happy, sometimes I refuse to be. I prefer getting depressed instead of looking at the brighter side of life. I even assign some aesthetic value to the image of a rain cloud hovering over my head.

Of course it's not that bad getting sad when we have a reason to be sad. But the trouble is, I tend to dwell on the sad realities of life longer than is necessary.

I have seen that staying sad for long is bad. A happy-happy-joy-joy existence may be corny, boring, unaesthetic, but a true optimist - as opposed to the merely shallow - is a very strong fellow indeed, full of faith, hope and love, even in the most testy, seemingly hopeless, and most egomaniacal of situations - nay, especially in such situations. I can see why Voltaire's caricature of the incurable optimist (Pangloss, in the satirical novel Candide) is a terrible mistake.

I want to find someone like Pangloss and stick to him/her all the time. Heck, I want to be an optimist myself.

Home Again? So Soon?

I don't know about you, but something's so distinct to me: Time flew so fast this year.

The memory of last year's Christmas still remains vivid to me and I don't see any reason for any rush related to the holidays. But Christmas is fast approaching unavoidably like an oncoming flood and Martin Nievera's song was right on target when it said "Can't stop Christmas." Not even a 9/11 can stop Christmas.

What made me a bit apprehensive is not the expense and the traffic associated to it but what one guru told me: God seemed to be in such a hurry this year.

Why?

NAIA's Air Traffic Control Tower Breached

According to my credible ear-witnesses, not a sound was heard when the US Air Force One landed on/took off at NAIA/Villamor Air Base during POTUS' historic visit. It's either that my ear-witnesses haven't enough Q-Tips (or Babyflo?) or that they've cleaned more than necessary (more than twice a week?) as to shatter their eardrum. It could also be that the Air Force One is such an amazing technological wonder.

Believe me, if you live near the airport like we do, you would want all airplanes to have that same capability. We residents dream of the day we shall miss the intermittent ruckus made by those airplanes in flight before we all become tone-deaf or contract tinnitus.

Still, it remains utterly shocking to actually hear the sound of silence over NAIA early Saturday. If something like that happens at the airport, something is terribly wrong with the country, or the world.

Empress… Lingo…

(When wrong is right and right is wrong)

One of the worst things that could upset me out of my wits is this abominable situation where I end up being looked down upon as the culprit when I was actually the victim. A situation where I am falsely accused of wrongdoing after I accuse another of the same.

Really. If right becomes wrong and wrong becomes right, what kind of planet do I live in? I might as well be a Martian.

I had my baptism of fire in this regard during high school. I was in an English class and the teacher was otherwise a brilliant new grad from UP. The fateful lesson was about root words and gender-related words. In the middle of her lecture, the teacher asked the class, "What is the root word of 'bilingual'?" The class answered 'lingual!' with the confidence of a linguist. I said 'lingo' with equal confidence.

But nobody, it seemed, not the least our brilliant teacher, knew about the existence of my word, as though it was something I invented. Still, I insisted because I knew I was right. Not a few of my classmates laughed about it in my face.

This was not enough. Much later the teacher would ask, "What's the female counterpart of 'emperor'?" The class answered 'emperess', to which my teacher conceded like a fool. I said fool because I knew the right answer was 'empress;' I happened to have met the word before; you know, I wasn't a nerd for nothing.

Yet again, not a few laughed in my face, giving the kind of laughter that could make you kill an entire high school 'studentry.'

I was sure I was right but that laughter crushed me so much that I began to doubt.

When I got home, I opened the Webster's dictionary like it was the most important thing in the world to do after panting like a dog from school. True enough, Webster proved me right on both counts. Was I fuming mad. "Empress!" I gnashed my teeth, "Lingo!"

But as oppressed protagonists in Tagalog movies say, "Sa 'kin ang huling halakhak!" (Literally, "I shall be the last to laugh.") A few years later, what would occupy local primetime TV on Sundays but Cristy Fermin and Butch Francisco's 'Showbiz Lingo' (which annoyed the hackles out of my cousin Rey and countless many others, especially the way Butch announced the show: "Show-be-e-e-e-z, leng-gow!") Then, of course, there was the Empress bathroom tissue TV commercial, too, featuring a Chinese or Japanese empress, in full kabuki regalia to boot.

If I can remember every detail to those harrowing moments in my young life, it's because, as I've said, it was such a metaphysical torment; it had profound repercussions. It's not that hell hath no fury like a nerd scorned - that is always a given. It is that I almost believed the mistakes myself.

It's a dangerous world, I realized. When a vast majority believe a mistake or an outright lie, it has a danger of becoming a fact. How's that again? "A lie that's been heard a thousand times is easier to believe than a truth that's been said only once." Up to now, I find it hard to forgive myself for failing to flail the Webster's page in my teacher's and classmates' general direction. My anger was warranted because it spoke of a greater truth: calling truth untruth and vice-versa is a sin of the first order! It wasn't a matter of perception, it was a black-and-white thing.

Blasphemy of the Spirit, according to the Bible, is unforgivable. You blaspheme the Spirit when you deny what is true.

Later in life, I would time and again meet with such little misfortunes. Thank God I have somewhat reformed. I have learned that I had been too proud to accept defeat, too proud to let myself be misunderstood.

Thank God, truth has its own way of avenging the victim of untruth. Like they say, truth is its own defense, truth is its own reward. I would one day find myself witnessing the same wrong done to others and, lo and behold, my personal stand of upholding the truth by correcting the wrong even if it hurts you is somewhat affirmed like a law.

Finally I have tasted how it is to be the last one to laugh.

***

But, then, we cannot always leave matters like truth and justice to the hands of time, can't we? If we can afford to have that laughter in the here and now - instead of being the last to laugh, why not? Why don't we make the truth jabber at the mind, eyes and ears of the blind and deaf among us by not giving up, by not keeping silent?

This has gotten very serious but the Nobel Prize-winning Elie Wiesel had to go through the Holocaust to learn this invaluable lesson - and to realize the grave mistake of those who could have done something but refused to. We shouldn't be silent in the face of untruth, oppression and injustice. We shouldn't be timid if it's our dignity as a person that's at stake. We shouldn't be pusillanimous about correcting linguistic atrocities because it is our education that's at stake.

Yet even so, even if we are silenced - either by condescension, by a sneering laughter, by the muzzle or by any other deathly implement - we should take heart. In the long run, we can always put our trust in the truth -- it is something bigger than us, big enough to do the avenging one day, to bring our enemies to their knees, to their well-earned comeuppance.

Meanwhile, we need to put in mind these certain realities: (1) Oftentimes, life is too short to see ourselves being proven right. (2) We can get too proud and impatient for it.

7.7.2000

Addendum to Novel Sex Orientations: The Lalaking Bakla

Just when I thought I have covered all grounds, here comes something I have unknowingly omitted: the existence of the lalaking bakla/bading. I got the idea from this new movie which promises to be pornographic.

'Gay guy' as English translation of lalaking bakla would be incorrect. A lalaking bakla, I suppose, is someone who is indubitably heterosexual but chooses to act like a screaming homosexual for the ff. motives: (1) He wants to get close to the girls. (2) He wants to be a public mascot.

A lalaking bakla knows that people know he's a fake. He endears himself to the gay community that way, even when he is not quite a mirror to them but more of a caricature. A lalaking bakla actually loves to be around gays possibly because of all that burlesque and the risque frankness they provide. But he can never be one of them. If he seems to understand gays better and ape them expertly for it, it is because he is compassionate enough to them. He doesn't care what society says. He knows the real score; he doesn't have to prove anything. A lalaking bakla is a gay man when he's with gay men, but he reverts to his natural heterosexual self when he's with fellow straight men.

A lalaking bakla is someone who deserves an Oscar/FAMAS award.

Don't knock the possibility, though, that a lalaking bakla is someone who actually has a tendency -- or why is he such a natural? Like, how can he raise his eyebrows to such an unbelievable height?

To Opinion Sections' Opinionated Denizens: A Mouthful from Susan Sontag

(K., can I post your anarchic essays here?-RSO)

"It is the job of the writer to depict the realities, the foul realities,
the realities of rapture. It is the essence of the wisdom furnished by
literature (the plurality of literary achievement) to help us to understand
that, whatever is happening, something else is always going on. I am
haunted by that `something else.'

"I am haunted by the conflict of rights and of values I cherish. For
instance that--sometimes--telling the truth does not further
justice. That--sometimes--the furthering of justice may entail suppressing
a good part of the truth.

"Many of the twentieth century's most notable writers, in their activity as
public voices, were accomplices in the suppression of truth to further what
they understood to be (what were, in many cases) just causes.

"My own view is, if I have to choose between truth and justice--of course,
I don't want to choose--I choose truth.

"Of course, I believe in righteous action. But is it the writer who is
performing it? These are three different things: speaking, which I am
doing now; writing, which gives me whatever claim I have to this
incomparable prize (Jerusalem Prize); and being; being a person who
believes in righteous action, and solidarity with others. As Ronald
Barthes once observed: `Who speaks is not who writes, and who writes is not
who is.'

"And of course I have opinions, political opinions, some of them formed
from reading and discussing and reflecting, but not from firsthand
experience....

"But do I hold this predictable opinions as a writer? Or do I not hold
them as a person of conscience and then use my position as a writer to add
my voice to others saying the same thing? The influence a writer can exert
is purely adventitious. It is, now, an aspect of the culture of celebrity.

"There is something vulgar about public dissemination of opinions on
matters about which one does not have extensive firsthand knowledge. If I
speak of what I do not know, or know hastily, this is mere opinion-mongering.

"I say this as a matter of honor. The honor of literature. The project of
having an individual voice. Serious writers, creators of literature,
shouldn't just express themselves differently from the way the mass media
does. They should be in opposition to the communal drone of the newscast
and the talk show.

"If literature itself, the great enterprise that has been conducted (within
our purview) for some two and a half millennia--if literature itself as
such embodies a wisdom, and I think it does, and is indeed the root of the
importance we give to literature--it is by demonstrating the multiplicity
and contradictions of our private and communal destinies. It will remind
us that there can be contradictions, sometimes irreducible conflicts, among
the values we most cherish. (This is what is meant by
`tragedy.') Literature will remind us of the `also' and `the something else.'

"The wisdom of literature is quite antithetical to having
opinions. `Nothing is my last word about anything,' said Henry
James. Furnishing opinions, even correct opinions--whenever
asked--cheapens what novelists and poets do best, which is to sponsor
reflectiveness, to perceive complexity.

"Let the others, the celebrities and the politicians, talk down to us;
lie. If being both a writer and a public voice could stand for anything
better, it would be that writers would consider the formulation of opinions
and judgements to be a grave responsibility.

"Another problem with opinions. They are agencies of
self-immobilization. What writers do should free us up, shake us up. Open
avenues of compassion and new interests. Remind us that we might, just
might, aspire to become different, and better, than we are. Remind us that
we can change.

"As Cardinal Newman said, `In a higher world it is otherwise, but here
below to live is to change, and to be perfect is to have changed often.'"

'The paperless office is a myth'

That's according to a survey which correctly observed that online workers actually print out their computer files for later perusal. (The news link on this later.) This means the pulp and paper industry and the print media shall live on for the next century. Alleluia! -- this means our jobs are secure even as we create new jobs.

Paolo Santos

Ready, sing: "Because of me, your life has changed, thank me for the joy and the love I bring..."

The song 'Does the Moonlight Shine on Paris?' being popularized these days by superb acoustic singer Paolo Santos makes me feel so old. I remember the song as something owned by an obscure British band called PM during the height of the so-called New Wave music.

'We owe our democracy to Rizal et al.'

Now this is something truly nouvelle! Conrado de Quiros says we don't owe our democracy to les Americains (pronounced with a sneer). We owe it to Rizal, Bonifacio, et alii. That's oh-so-nice to hear, but didn't Rizal only get the idea from European libertarians?? Don't we owe our democracy to the glory that was Greek?

You are not Piolo Pascual

A 'deliberately disheveled' 'do wouldn't do for you - unless it's done by Frank Provost (wow, soci!). Go back to your boring comb and gel routine for your pogi points.

No, don't listen to me. A deliberately disarranged mane is actually cooool. It's so chaos theory, so artfully fractal.

Look Who's Blogging

Check out Porn-Free by Joey Reyes

Also Writing on Air by Jim Paredes.

We're Also Young but We were not Born Yesterday

This is what a lot of young people want to tell those new-generation congressmen and -women whose faces are always on the front pages I am deathly afraid they'd become national heroes like Gringo Honasan to many people.

Demographics You Should Know

The world's population (latest estimate): 6 billion

Global workforce: 2.4 billion

Workforce in developing countries: 1.4 billion

So Dao Ming Sze (Si?) is in Town

Does Ben Chan really think people will buy his shirts because of the Meteor Garden star's charisma? I advise that Chan acquire first the cutting-edge technology to dye his shirts in a hold-fast manner. I admire Chan's design but I want my money back for the T-shirts I had bought which faded under the sun faster than you can say "all-that-hype." My chocolate brown and teal Bench retro shirts were a big disappointment. At least they turned into fashion's version of van Gogh's vanitas/Sunflower series: Clothes fade, get frayed at the seams, are attacked by molds and moths, just like everything else in this life.

Ridiculous News Alert

One is left with the feeling of déjà vu when one hears ex-prez Erap goes to court - a court he doesn't recognize - and pleads for permission to leave the country for medical reasons. Whatever happened to consistency? I don't know about you, but I am reminded of the deposed Marcoses returning to the country and running under a new system of governance they had considered illegitimate. I'm not a member of Mensa Society but I think I'm going crazy.

But please, for Pete's sake, allow him to leave to get the help he needs.

One Hundred Isles of Solitude

Once upon a time, our high school science club president proposed a field trip to these remote islets dotting the tip of Western Pangasinan, but the idea was aborted as fast as it was conceived. This destination has always stayed out of the question for this one single reason: parental paranoia. Our folks always regarded island-hopping as something very risky, like, say, bungee-jumping, and consistently, this attitude has robbed the fun even before it started. I am thankful to finally reclaim that ticket to a fun time that could have been but was routinely denied.

The Hundred Islands, geologists claim, are actually the tips of an aggregate of underwater coralline hills jutting out of the South China Sea. The location can be reached by car about seven hours from Manila. Reaching Barrio Lucap in Alaminos, one hires a boat for P400 per head for a roughly 20-minute ride to one’s island of choice.

I came here with my cousin Lyn, my brother Robert and my sister May as a treat to Jason, our vacationing American guest. Jason works for the police department in Concord, California. We felt the need to show off, and we thought the Hundred Islands National Park would be show-offy enough.

From a distance, this group of islands appears like one whole mass, one continuous peninsula. Until you reach the shore of each island, you wouldn’t realize that these are indeed distinct, separate isles.

The motorboat driver took us off to Quezon Island, one of about five islets where there appears to be a decent resort. A statue, whitewashed and time-worn, stands guard over this island like a plaster saint. It turned out to be that of former President Manuel L. Quezon. Why a past Philippine president, a Tagalog at that, would sort of lay claim to this islet, we couldn’t tell. It must have been some form of a posthumous honorific.

We entered a cavernous washroom (ill-maintained when we came) and changed into our swimming gear. Goggles, lifesavers and fins are available on the beach but they cost a hand and a foot. Lyn prepared the charcoals for barbecue on the sand while the rest of us took the plunge. We found a number of local and foreign tourists already worshipping the sun and the sea, the sand and the shells - an idolatrous bunch, we must say.

The lapping waters were saltier than usual one could float effortlessly. But Jason complained about his eyes getting stung. I worried about turning into a daing (dried fish). Thank God Filipinos are gifted with a uniform melanin. Our Caucasian visitor’s shoulders were full of freckles but not enough, I think, to fend off skin carcinoma. (He forgot his sunblock.) As expected, white people like him are not amused by their freckles, while coffee-colored people like us, it would seem, would only be too willing to trade dermal pigmentations. Jason reminded me of that line from a female character in Amy Tan’s Joy Luck Club who grumbled over her daughter’s American fiancé: “Hnh! Too many spots on his face!”

Enough of pigments. We swam for hours, combed the shore for coral fragments and shells, and eyed some cuteness lazing by. Meanwhile, I could see Robert and May having the time of their lives on the beach, looking like a pair of ducklings who were deprived of water since birth. Pretty soon, we were minding our own respective business just like in a game of solitaire. To each his own. It's as though we never came here as a group. Lyn and her burning coals. My sister May and her pebbles and seashells. Robert and his various swimming styles. Jason and his lifetime search for a mate. Myself and my desire to make my sun-burnt state at least uniform.

Being alone always carries with it a negative connotation, but the word solitude does not; it has a pleasant ring to it. There are moments when each of us needs a time exclusively for ourselves. At a time when technology has made the whereabouts of everyone virtually traceable, solitude is such a luxury. These islands afford us this rarity of getting a taste of it: the beauty of meditative silence, of soliloquies, of microwave-signal dead spots. Its pleasant sound especially reverberates in these islets.

Such moments are ruined, however, when intruded upon by the most petty of distractions - like, conversations and vacuous pleasantries. What is potentially profound, angst-filled and existential is properly within the exclusive province of personal introspection. It is perhaps for this reason that writers and philosophers want to be left alone in interminable stretches of time. Gabriel Garcia Marquez would have found in these islands a perfect place to pen something like his famous novel.

***

Not a few minutes have passed when I saw Jason swimming with a local girl who was gamely answering to an impromptu interview in the middle of the sea. In the water I espy a small school of fries moving slowly in one direction like a lone organism, like a jellyfish. It’s amazing how they do it without anyone telling them to move this way and that all together, in synchrony. Science tells us the answer may lie in a mysterious phenomemon called biomagnetism. I called Jason frantically as I mistook the spectacle for some sort of a mysterious creature not unlike the Loch Ness monster.

Later someone familiar was waving at the shore. It was Lyn and her barbecue. It turned out we have swum too far. We ran towards the blinding white, into which she heroically dug a pit for burning coals and placed bananas and chicken in spits. Along the way we dodged some beautiful people playing volleyball.

The afternoon sun was searing hot but we didn’t seem to take notice. We gathered around the coals, Indian squat-style, as though it were a bonfire. Jason was surprised that bananas could be grilled like slabs of pork and chicken. Lyn said she had learned to do this while in Cebu.

We didn’t tell Jason it was just saba, one of the local banana varieties (plantain type), that could be good enough for grilling. (A few days later back in Manila, Jason would bring with him a bunch of latundan (the fruit salad variety) to Manila Bay. “For grilling,” he said aloud. Ugh.)

We clambered up Quezon Is. and took some pictures at the foot of the statue in the cheesiest of poses. In the middle of the jungle, we discovered to our delight statues of two mermaids in what seemed like a lesbian-sisters pose. They say monkeys abound in these parts, but we couldn’t find any in spite of our pathetic attempts at making ventriloquist primal shrieks. Instead, what we discovered was a helipad on top, complete with a giant H. These islands are not so remote as we first thought them to be!

We descended on the other side of the island and hiked our way back to our barbecue pit. Each island appears to have a carrying capacity of two persons at most, lovers preferably. Some gay-sounding swallows and dainty white birds call it home but there’s nothing much to sustain humans here - no edible vegetation, no evidence of wild game except for some theoretical monkeys. Deserted by nightfall, the Hundred Islands are virtually a bunch of lonely hearts.

Nearby Children’s Island would presumably be a hit among the kids, though. Governor’s Island has a mini-provincial capitol for transients for P2,000 per night, perfect for couples on a honeymoon.

By 5:00 PM, the motorboat driver came back and waited patiently for us as we lingered way beyond schedule. Jason joined us without so much as saying goodbye to the girl he was conversing with awhile ago. He said the girl was a Mormon on vacation from heavy evangelization work in Davao. The way his face gesticulated as he said it, I could see he’s allergic to the very idea.

So we’re back to so-called reality. Things like solitude has an end. So it remained: No man is an island.

But as we vroomed to Barrio Lucap in Alaminos town, the islands seemed to disagree as they closed ranks on us just like before – as one, compact peninsula. Yes, a man can afford to be an island from time to time, they seemed to say.

List of Notable Photographers

Some of the photographers who helped elevate photography as art, and their famous works.

Robert Capa-Death on a Spanish Hillside- 1936 death of Spanish soldier in the hands of Francisco Franco's fascist forces

Dorothea Lange - Mother - 1936-the photo that gave a face to the Great Depression

Margaret Bourke-White - No Turning Away-1945 - Hitler's concentration camp

Joe Rosenthal- At What Cost?- 1945 - American flag raising at Pacific Island of Iwo Jima

Eddie Adams- Saigon Sentence - 1968 - cold-blooded execution of a Vietcong by a compatriot sympathetic to US Army

Don McCullin- Biafra Starves - 1969 - extreme hunger in Nigeria's eastern state

John P. Filo - The War at Home - 1970 - Vietnam War protest at Ohio's Kent State University

W. Eugene Smith-The Price of Pollution - 1972 - Minamata, Japan, mercury poisoning, modern Pieta

Frank Fournier - Valley of Death 1985 - death from volcanic eruption in Colombia

Stanley Forman- Banner of Hate - 1976 - racial hatred

Stuart Franklin- All Alone-1989 - a lone man facing down tanks at Beijing's Tiananmen Square

Therese Frare- AIDS-1990-deathbed of AIDS victim

James Nachtwey-The Rule of the Machete-1994-casualty of genocide in Rwanda (Hutu majority vs Tutsi minority)

David Bohrer- Tiny Targets - 1999- string of child massacres (both of and by children) in America

Nick Ut - Children fleeing an American-raided napalm attack, near Trang Bang, south Vietnam - 1972

from Time Life millennium issue

How to Pretend You're Dirt-Poor

Most people are foolish - or at least gullible. It doesn't take a genius to learn that. This has been my enduring observation when it comes to a person's judgment of another person's worth. People judge by what they see on the surface.

I was especially amused one morning when a neighbor of mine who never gave me the light of day before, suddenly felt extra close to me when I chose to wear a nice barong and bumped into her on our way to work. For all she knew, it was just a freakin' costume for United Nations Day, a very quixotic idea that endures to this day, and I happen to represent the R.P. but in truth I'm just the janitor in the office.

Especially gullible are people who have never encountered well-groomed con men, high-class prostitutes (male and female), and wealthy-looking murderers, pushers, pimps, rapists and robbers.

If you really want tips on how to pretend to be dirt-poor, I refer you to highly successful Chinese businessmen who never seem to have benefited from a nice shower since birth - and dress and smell the part. See, the secret not just lies in sartorial factors, it also extends to your (exotic) diet. Pretending to be poor is a lifestyle.

Get back to me when you want tips on how to pretend to be filthy rich, nouveau rich, or old rich. See you then.

Bad Joke du Jour

This really happened. Our professor back in our Biotechnology class in college was lecturing about the merits of going into research as full-time work. Her unspoken message essentially meant, "Look at you, students of a good-for-nothing generation, you'll never get far with your vacuous attitudes."

At the end of her sermon, she said with emphasis, "Look at what research can do!" Translation: "Look at me."

Our professor was fresh from masteral or doctoral studies abroad and indeed looked and dressed the part: thick glasses, unrefined grooming, pimples everywhere.

My female classmates, unquestionably pretty but equally bitchy, were not the type who would allow themselves not to have the last word.

So they whispered to each other with that conspiratorial meanness on their face, "Look at what research can do to your face!"

The Archangels

Michael – protection

Gabriel – wisdom

Raphael – healing

Uriel – justice

Barachiel – blessings

Sealtiel – holiness

Jhudiel - merciful love

Our Father in 770 Languages

http://www.christusrex.org.www1/pater/index.html

Watching Our Men in Fighting Form

I can't believe I survived the whole of All Saints Day vegetating before the TV watching the international billiards tournament at the Araneta Coliseum where our men played. I can't believe I found the sport actually amazing!

This is like, the fourth Johari window. It's something you don't know about me, and I neither.

Next thing you know, I am watching a basketball game beyond my one-minute ADHD-allotted interest. Next thing you know I am actually playing it.

Not!

Would you care to know that my father's favorite sport is not basketball (a disinterest which I inherited) but boxing (which I hate; you're supposed to LOL and ROFL hard here)? This is the reason why I know where I stand in the nature-versus-nurture argument. Of course I never said my father was barbaric for wanting the game so much or he would've called me a sissy. I don't believe in animal rights because I eat beef/pork/carabeef/goat meat/turkey/chicken/lamb/mutton/I-won't-say-what-else, but I want boxing and cockfighting outlawed one of these days. Go ahead, call me a sissy. I will call you Conan the Barbarian or Attila the Hun, the Barbaric.

Cough, cough

The sort of cough people are having these days is different - not merely the result of a wayward viral strain, but by environmental pollutants and novel allergens. Sec. Manuel Dayrit and the current DENR Secretary and all secretaries concerned, this has long been bugging our people, especially the young and old vulnerable segments of the population. Doctors are confirming it, too, if you cannot believe me. I believe cops should be deployed to arrest those who violate the Clear Air Act - particularly those who burn their trash in the neighborhood. Indoor pollution - domestic or industrial - is also a big concern.

This is alarming because this sort of allergic coughing is so virulent in all senses of the word. Those with heart problems are particularly threatened.

Chikka Textmates

It bugs me when my textmates send text messages online. I get charged P4.00 for it instead of just P1.00; often they spend nothing for it because they send text messages at the company's expense.

On women's right over their own bodies; Do We Really Own Our Bodies?

I would like to raise this one overlooked aspect in the feminist defense of contraception and abortion…

There's the matter of believing whether one, whether male or female, can claim absolute ownership of one's body or whether it is acknowledged as somebody else's, i.e., whether it is created by somebody else higher than us. We cannot legislate for beliefs like this, of course. We are free to choose, of course. But this one aspect is fundamental to taking sides in the abortion argument.

On natural poisons

My former officemate Ed Q. had an important rejoinder about poisons. Naturally occurring (organic) poisons, he said, are at least naturally eliminated as well, while inorganic/artificial poisons don't have this benefit.

However: Correct me if I'm wrong but, aflatoxin, for example, is a natural poison but it is naturally accumulated in the liver - not automatically voided out of our system like we expect it would be. Maybe it depends upon the poison?

Food poisons warrant further investigation.

Make Up Your Mind Noli, Loren, et al.

There, too, is something bad to be said about politicians insisting to stay in their own TV shows. So what if it's not against the law? It's bad taste to me, no matter how you look at it. Doesn't conflict of interest and unfair media mileage (unfair to other pols) count? Whatever happened to good old delicadeza?

And media people who endorse commercial products: you, too, aren't off the hook!

Catholic Taliban?

Dean Jorge Bocobo has always been referring to Chief Justice Davide, "Saint Cory" and Cardinal Sin et al.'s extraconstitutional interference to national affairs as a Talibanesque arrogation by the Catholic Church. I beg to disagree. The much-despised Erap presidency is overwhelmingly Catholic, too, at least in the superficial sense and at worst in the nominal, non-practicing sense. Erap and family are Catholic, his Atenista cronies and appointees are Ateneans, fraternity brothers, Jesuit-educated at the Ateneo - need we say more? The dethroned Erap presidency is an embarrassment to the Ateneo and I hope no one will remember this forever. From where I sit as an armchair sociopoliticologist, I believe the matter is not about Catholicism or religion but a matter of love of country and being Filipino. It just so happened that our prime movers are practicing Catholics. Were it former Pres. Fidel Ramos, a Protestant, who took the center stage, it wouldn't have made much difference as long as he fought for the same expel-Erap cause, which he did. This Catholic Taliban label is extremely divisive and puts a severe strain among fellow Filipinos who are freedom- and justice-loving but of different religions.

Gothic Food, Gothic News

I like All Saints/Souls Day for this traditional practice in my hometown in Pangasinan -- cooking in coconut cream a horrifyingly black ricecake (called inlubi) made from burnt glutinous rice grains (called deremen). I had two trays-ful of two versions of this ricecake and I shoveled one whole plate of it like a pig. I had stomach ache the very next day.

Other flavors of home I pine for from time to time:

Calasiao's little white sticky puto

Mangaldan's Romanas peanut brittle

Dagupan's cultured bangus and Pedritos tasty bread

Carmen's tupig (grilled espasol-like ricecake)

Bayambang's buro (fermented dalag and other fishes)

Lingayen's brown bagoong

Mangoes (more than five varieties) and bagoong alamang

Sineguelas and other seasonal fruits

The province's exotic vegetables I never get to see in Manila

In other news…

A house in our town burned down last Nov. 1. The cause? A candle in the altar was reportedly left unattended. Most likely, the candle was not just meant to accompany the family's prayer for the dead but also as a Christian accompaniment to the animistic practice of offering atang (usu. food) to the spirit of the dead. This house, incidentally, was situated next to our town's (sole?) funeral parlor, which was spared from the annihilation.

Can somebody explain the etymology of undas? Whatever it is, it sounds better than the oxymoronic, no, contradictory Pista ng Patay which was celebrated without fail as Pista ng Buhay.

Immanentism

At long last I was able to watch the second installment of The Matrix franchise. The effects and stunts are indeed eye-popping, what can I say?! Beyond that, though, I don't think I still have anything more to say except this -- the whole Matrix concept is a cinematic essay of immanentism as a philosophical school: you know, it's all in the mind, it's all in the mind, reality is what you think of it.

I don't like it. Something's fundamentally fallacious there somewhere.

Noteworthy

Dante Velasco's reviews of business management books.

Boycott SMC products, Danding Cojuangco and NPC politicians

Here's a list of all San Miguel Corporation products, as supplied to me in pinoywriters.com:

"For heaven’s sake, we all
know this is not about the JDF, or about mansions and curtains and
chairs, or even about Bryan Davide. None of us were born yesterday: we
know this is about revenge for the Supreme Court’s recent rulings, and
we know Danding is its mastermind. (Let’s face it: (certain offensive portion of text deleted) Wimpy
Fuentebella (offensive portion of text deleted) couldn’t have schemed this up
himself.) GMA has apparently asked him to put a stop to all of this. Has
he acquiesced?

There is a limit to the amount of bullsh_t the Filipino people can take,
and good God, WE’VE PUT UP WITH FAR, FAR TOO MUCH ALREADY. Siphon away
our money all you want, you f_cking greedy scumbags, but leave our
heroes alone.

This is a call for all right-minded, true-blue Pinoy patriots to BOYCOTT
SAN MIGUEL CORPORATION PRODUCTS until the House of Representatives
withdraws its ridiculous impeachment complaint. Don’t be fooled by
arguments that this move will only hurt the economy, which is already
taking a huge beating from this good-for-nothing charade. What we’re
doing is choosing to patronize Danding’s competitors, who are mostly
local companies din naman; if we spend as much on them as on SMC
products, the GDP will remain exactly the same. What we’re doing is
fighting back against the Dark Side with the awesome power of our peso;
kung tutuusin, pag pinagsamasama pera natin, mas marami pa rin tayong
pera kaysa kay Danding. Enough with the wimpy shame tactics (pun
intended), which will not work anyway on individuals without sense of
shame or propriety; what we’re doing is fighting fire with fire. It’s
time to hit these frigging assholes where it hurts. It’s lynching time.
It’s time to reduce SMC’s bottom line.

* Boycott SAN MIGUEL PALE PILSEN, SAN MIGUEL DRAFT, SAN MIGUEL
SUPER DRY, SAN MIG LIGHT, CERVEZA NEGRA, RED HORSE, GOLD EAGLE, BLUE
ICE, MILLER GENUINE DRAFT, GINEBRA SAN MIGUEL. Admittedly, this will be
truly difficult. We love beer! But then again, we love our country more.
Alternative drinks: Beer na Beer and Colt 45. Or better yet, red wine.

* Boycott COKE, COKE LIGHT, SPRITE, SPRITE LIGHT, ROYAL, LIFT, POP
COLA, SARSI, DIET SARSI. Maybe even more difficult than not drinking
beer! Coke is a part of our lives. But then there’s a myriad
alternatives. Pepsi Twist, for instance, is fantastic. And take note:
Pepsi is the chosen drink of the boys of F4! :-)

* Boycott MAGNOLIA JUICE DRINKS, NESTEA, EIGHT O’CLOCK, PONKANA.
Savor the real fruit goodness of Del Monte and Dole canned juice drinks
instead. And kung iced tea rin lang ang pag-uusapan, mag original Lipton
ka na lang.

* Boycott MAGNOLIA CHICKEN, PUREFOODS PRODUCTS, MONTEREY PRODUCTS.
Swift meat products are a great alternative, and your local supermarket
or palengke has chicken galore to choose from.

* Boycott VIVA, FIRST, WILKINS. Madali lang to, there’s a zillion
other mineral water brands to buy!

* Boycott MAGNOLIA DAIRY PRODUCTS, DARI CRÈME, STAR MARGARINE. In
truth, Selecta ice cream and Anchor butter taste so much better anyway,
so buy those products instead.

Men as Objects

I like what Cymbeline Villamin posits in one of her stories about men. How come the feminists missed this one when this is all about sexual objectification - in reverse? Women, Villamin says, are seen by men as sex objects, but men are seen by women and society at large as money objects.

Quits na! At least sex objectification/commodification is democratized, di ba?

I hope to see this topic dissected in the newspaper columns. (I wish I could afford to read all the papers so that this blog won't sound like a spinoff of my PDI feedbacks.)

Punk'd

Doesn't Ashton Kutcher look like he's Britney Spears' older brother? Is he really annoying or I am just being envious and mean because he's reportedly dating Demi Moore even when he's almost her eldest daughter's age?

Circus on TV

Our lunchtime variety shows and gossip shows on TV have evolved into what looks like your regulation town fiesta circus. (If I were meaner I would've said freak show, but that would be a disparagement of the differently-abled/handicapped.) Buti sana kung Cirque du Soleil!

Check out who reign supreme now, dictating the taste and tenor of the day: Sex Bomb Girls. Masculados. Dagul. Ate Gay. Ate Glow. Mahal (who got married with a normal-looking guy, a singer named Jimboy, or was that just a cheap trick?). Mura (Can you imagine this one is reportedly a transvestite?). A macho gay guy named Sweet (John Lapuz). Unrepentant green-and-brown humorists whose names should never be mentioned twice (Mahiya kayo Randy, Willy, John at Joey!).

Halloween Thoughts to Haunt You

To super@inqurer.com.ph

I am delighted to discover excellent new writers in this newest gimmick of PDI's Pam Pastor and Tim Yap - Saturday Super. This section reminds me of the cool, defunct Datebook. In Super, the essay as an art form reigns supreme and I hope it stays that way.

Among the stable of scribes are Gino de la Paz, Tals Diaz, Martin Valdes and a guy named Lex.

I am attracted by the team's youthful exuberance but I find their philosophies bothering, with the exception of that of Valdes, so far. The writers come off as intelligent, eloquent, open-minded, and with voices ranging from sober and balanced to brash and vulgar. But we don't turn the page here looking for balance, or else we should read the news or Mr. Doronila's news analysis.

It is these writers' misfortune that I happen to really sit down this All Saints Day and read though the whole thing. (I refused to come home this time of the year. Traffic in Tarlac and Pampanga had traumatized me two years ago and I wasn't interested in sadomasochism.)

Valdes' 'Monsters incognito' is well-versed on things monstrous, including the traffic in Divisoria. It manages to talk about the significance of demons and devils while telling the story of how the author failed in purchasing a costume for the Halloween.

Gino de la Paz's 'Ray of fright' (in his column, Age against the machine) crucifies and excoriates Madonna and her excesses, or her current delinquency, with such delectation and impunity. He says things I have long wanted to say about this popular icon but couldn't, out of charity -- like, I'd rather choose to couch my criticisms in a more peaceful lexicon. Let me just say that De la Paz's chutzpah will only be matched by Madonna's possible libel case against him.

Tals Diaz's ranting in the beautifully titled piece, 'The life of death' (in her column, Out the window) caps this trio's colorful urban language. (Lex's piece is just a listing of people who get a well-deserved dissing, not a full-blown essay, so let's skip him for a while.) Diaz's subtitle should be 'In defense of Halloween.'

Oh, there's Tim Yap's nice blurbs, too, which prove his creativity beyond partying, eventologizing and fashion styling.

But of course I am writing this because I have something big to bitch about. I am offended, for instance, by Yap's feature of the new rap/r-'n-b star Jay-R where Jay-R flaunts his bare moments in the morning after a one-night stand, complete with a half-naked woman under the sheet lying on the bed with her back to the camera, perhaps too embarrassed to face the consequences. I am offended not by the theme itself (all subjects are valid) but by the gloss and the glamour with which fornication and teen sex (premarital and extramarital) is packaged and peddled. I have a problem whenever the definition of stylish is "rebellious". Just because 'liberated' and 'progressive' Westerners buy Hollywood trash doesn't mean Filipinos will; Filipinos may be backward and parochial sometimes but they also have the capacity to think, you know. Yap has taken too much liberty on open-mindedness and mistook it for a high-minded concept - something I expect for a work that aspires to be literary and fun at the same time. Well, it could be that PDI's resident partyphile has no such agenda and I am asking too much and being too persnickety considering I don't belong to their target market.

Now to de la Paz. I especially refer to a former essay of his where he proclaims "I'm a lapsed Catholic - and proud of it!" He has every right to say so, of course, and to his credit, I couldn't help but listen with the ears of compassion. Perhaps he has a valid reason as much as those boys who had been raped by a priest in the US have. But I couldn't help but be bothered by his notion that freedom consists in the absence of rules and strictures, that traditions like those of his former religion is automatically suspect for being based on uninformed and illogical assumptions and paternalistic preferences. I will always have a problem with such an anarchic and potentially nihilistic worldview. Sometimes, or most of the time, that's the underlying philosophy of cool -- and admittedly it has a merry mix of fashion consequences. That would be certainly good for the party scene! But what I just hope is for holders of this view to reconsider the possibility that restrictions "aren't there to oppress but to protect." As in Yap's work's sexually charged content, it's not in the sex as a subject that I am offended but in the basic treatment of it. It's the passion for sensuality, if I am not being redundant, that I find a case against. It's the glorification of the sensual I find troubling, - as opposed to, say, a more curbed/restrained presentation, especially with such a sexually impressionable group like teens for an audience. Ticklish, naughty innuendoes are even far more powerful than, say, out-and-out nudity, just as the frightening style of The Blair Witch Project, Sixth Sense and The Others is more effective than an out-and-out Freddie Krueger stepping out at night for his first victim.

I find it troubling because the proponents of sensuality are always quick to label the dissenters as an offensive bunch of hypocrites and tight-bottomed "conservatives" and judgmental, close-minded and prejudiced minds.

Curbing one's baser instinct is not a denial of the existence of that instinct but a recognition of the danger it poses when left unbridled. Using fire to concoct bodily nourishment and provide warmth and enlightenment is quite different from playing with fire.

And we haven't even tackled conservatism as a label that is most unfair. "Conservative" as a label is as equally offensive as a fundamentalist's fire-and-brimstone accusation and wholesale condemnation of his fellow sinners. For a "conservative" label can also easily imply "self-righteous," "hypocrite" and "judgmental" -- all convenient tags used by "liberals" to run to for cover. To quote a priest on the subject, "there should never be a choice whether one is liberal or conservative. There's no such thing as liberal or conservative. The question is whether we are faithful or not."

One of my gurus, Antonio O. Vasquez, when he was still alive, drew flak for his "strictness". But if he was strict, it was only because he knew human weakness first-hand. He knew the humiliation of struggle and our helplessness when it comes to demonic powers which are beyond our control and beneath our plane of existence, and our own inner demons (which are reasonably within our control). He saw how monstrously ugly, fearsome, and hopelessly malicious the devil and his cohorts are. He knew that if you gave the devil an inch, he'd ask you for a mile. He knew how the devil traps us in our weaknesses, how cunning and ever-watchful he is for that moment to make us trip and crack.

Did it ever occur to "liberals" that "conservatives" mean well? Too bad, conservatives, in their zeal to mean well, choose to impose what they believe is good and right. This always spells trouble, of course, but think about a scenario where all "conservatives" gave up fighting for what they believe is right and just and you have a society that is unimaginably free-for-all and, needless to say, self-destructive. Think about the death of social order in William Golding's Lord of the Flies.

This brings me to Diaz's unsettling swipe at the critics of Halloween as being "close-minded" fundamentalists. There is something even more scathing about that word, "close-minded," for it assumes irrational intransigence against logic and common sense on the part of the accused, both of which the accuser implicitly assumes to have. It's not as though the critics of Halloween as another Western cultural trash don't know what they are saying. I've read and watched Harry Potter with immense enjoyment, yet I don't fool myself that some countervailing thoughts in me don't linger.

While it's true that most Catholic symbols have been derived from pagan rituals, these rituals were turned on their severed heads and were Christianized in return. How more open-minded can you get than that? I love Filipinos because they are a master in this - in the indigenization/Filipinization of the foreign. Those pagan symbols have been decontextualized without so much as offending the sensibilities of the pagan tribes of yore as much as evangelizing them by introducing something new and revolutionary without taking away from the native cultures what is potentially good and inherently beautiful.

The very idea of Halloween, by contrast, remains intact even in its postmodern incarnation. It is essentially a kind of perverse fun anchored/hinged in the 'goodification' if not institutional glorification of the antics of the fallen angels - which, in more blunt terms, is to scare. Christianity never scares for the sake of scaring, and if it does scare, it is only out of love, an urgent desire for conversion. It's like determining the essence of parental love -- parental love is not about provision for a child's every whim and caprice; it is about the desire of a parent to see his/her child turn out well and ultimately be saved for it -- and this exercise of love is not without its forbidding need for discipline and disciplinary action.

Anybody of course is free to choose between "freedom" and love (or its imagined opposites) but perhaps, if we only study the devil more, we'd understand why we should be properly scared of it, loathe it and ultimately reject it - not trivialize it -- even its seemingly innocuous manifestations as trick-or-treating on Halloween. If we'd only know more about the devil and be more willing to really experience it, we'd understand that the devil is ugly, malicious, and only given to malice and its manifold ugliness. I would not want to institutionalize that kind of ugliness. I hope all of us may get a closer glimpse of its manifestations in witchcraft, demonic possessions, internal/interpersonal/social discord, war/enmity/violence, etc. etc.

I agree that Halloween answers something in us, no matter the culture: Halloween affords us the chance to ruminate on the afterlife, the spirit world, the unknown. But then, that's what All Saints Day and All Souls Day are all about; Halloween, however, decidedly puts the spotlight on the dreadful and its depredations. Why not make the saints and sainthood cool instead?

A rejection of Halloween does not mean a denial of the existence of the dark world. The question is, why are we so enamored of the dark?

I just hope that our talents and energy are re-channeled from the commercially viable but harmful values of the world to the more enduring values for the coming generations. I do not mean to play the prophet Isaiah here; I assume everyone has the desire to follow what is life-affirming. But I guess someone needs to point out the existence of these perspectives that are being continually obscured - instead of upheld - in the mass media. It won't help anyone to forge on towards that winding, hard path of redemption from the awful human condition with the unseemly and utterly rebellious glorification of sensuality, discord and fear. Lamentably, sex, violence, and fear have reached the commercially lucrative stage and we would then be impinging on people's profit margins…

I refer everyone to my two old essays on the subject of the devil:

1. Introduction to Demonology/Satanology

2.

I recommend you read the stories and encounters with the devil of the ff. and let us see if you can sleep well at night: Don Bosco, Padre Pio, Fr. John Vianney, St. John of the Cross, Mother Teresa, the visionaries of Garabandal and Medjugorje, Vassula Ryden, even Sr. Teresing (the Marian visionary of Lipa City).

Noteworthy

Eric Caruncho's profile of a pioneering female rock icon Sampaguita is, for me, an outstanding piece of work. It made me want to read up on somebody I otherwise wouldn't have given a "rat's patootie" - and even ended up liking. More of work like this please!

'Can we solve a problem like Metro Manila?'

By Ana Marie O. Dizon and Judy T. Gulane

(cut-and-pasted from inq7.net)

SPRAWLING Metro Manila is a showcase of defects, recently made more visible by the series of typhoons that visited the country. These defects are traced to uncontrolled growth, which now finds the metropolis bursting at the seams. Coupled with this are local leaders who are distinguished for their myopic and parochial viewpoints, who regard problems beyond their borders as not their own.

What do we get given this situation? Problems of garbage disposal, mushrooming informal settlements, flooding, traffic jams and pollution. When the problems appear to be intolerable, the national government, as a practice, appoints a person who will "get things done"-like it has done with the appointment of former Marikina Mayor Bayani Fernando as chair of the Metro Manila Development Authority.

However, unless key elements in Metro Manila dynamics are labeled and acknowledged, whoever sits and coordinates the 17 cities and municipalities comprising the metropolis will only end up frustrated and defeated.

One of these elements is the jurisdictional boundaries between cities and municipalities. Because local officials see in terms of their "fiefdoms," they fail to see the problems in their neighboring cities or municipalities. What they and their local planners and engineers must recognize is that the activities of their constituents have transboundary consequences. This means that an activity in one city or municipality will have consequences that will not be contained within its boundaries.

For instance, cities and municipalities located in low-lying areas often get flooded. The knee-jerk solution has always been to blame the MMDA, to demolish structures along the waterways and to clear the waterways of garbage. These measures are mere palliatives: come next year, the same problem arises. There is no long-term solution to flooding because local officials, and even the MMDA, have a localized view of the problem: the flooding occurs within a specific area, and therefore, the solution is confined to that area.

What can be done is to look at the bigger picture, to look at the contribution of cities and municipalities located on higher ground to the flooding. These areas are equally to blame, given their garbage load, and the quarrying, construction and deforestation activities that have clogged rivers, creeks and other waterways. As a result, the water-holding capacity of these waterways has been greatly reduced, and since water must go somewhere, it overflows these waterways and floods the low-lying areas of Metro Manila.

This is the case with the Tullahan River and flooding in Valenzuela, Malabon and Navotas. As with the San Juan River and flooding in Tatalon and neighboring areas in Quezon City. Or the siltation of the Marikina River as a result of quarrying operations in Montalban, Rizal. Reclamation efforts in recent years near the old Smokey Mountain in Tondo, on the other hand, have seen certain parts of Valenzuela going under water. The reclamation of Manila Bay in the 1970s, meanwhile, has placed Obando, Bulacan under water the whole year round until now.

Aside from flooding, another problem is the uncontrolled growth of slums or informal settlements. Because most local governments are unwilling to host this segment of the population, they neglect them and help create housing conditions that are inhospitable. Thus, the growth of slums in the most undeveloped and marginal land available.

Over the years, laws such as the Urban Development and Housing Act (UDHA) have been passed to address this problem, yet most local governments would rather conduct periodic clearing and demolition operations to drive away the informal settlers within their jurisdictions. These agencies have done nothing but to force them to relocate to other cities or municipalities in the metropolis, to squat on public or private land or to live in the streets.

Mga taong grasa (people who live in the streets and called thus because of the grease and grime that have accumulated in their bodies), for example, are sometimes rounded up by the police, and deposited in the next city or municipality. The police holding jurisdiction over that city or municipality, meanwhile, will do the same thing: round them up and deposit them in the next city or municipality. In the process, these people, who need great assistance, are seen instead as problems for the next city-and the next city-to address. In the end, the problem is merely transferred but never solved.

Very few local governments in Metro Manila have been found to comply with the UDHA, which provides for the humane treatment of informal settlers. Only the governments of Marikina, Muntinlupa and Mandaluyong stand out for working with their urban poor constituents and giving them security of tenure.

Many social science writers explain that the failure of cities to develop properly stems from their lack of shared history and traditions. This may well be the case with Metro Manila, the proverbial "melting pot" of people coming from other regions, who come only to leave, or to come and stay and complain. But more correctly, in the case of Metro Manila, it could be because of local officials who lack vision and management skills. We do not need them. We need local officials who can work together on common problems and instill discipline in their constituents.

'Condoms, human love and sex'

mailto:roycimagala@hotmail.commailto:roycimagala@hotmail.com

(cut-and-pasted from inq7.net)

I WAS happy to read about a recent United Nations report that somehow shows that artificial and immoral means to combat a deadly disease is doomed to failure.

It seems they cannot alter the nature of things, much less, undermine for long the true dignity of the human person.

They may offer some advantages and practicality, but in the end the demands of nature cannot be nullified, and can only be fulfilled.

Last June, the Population Division of the UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs released the findings of an exhaustive study, entitled, "HIV/AIDS, Awareness and Behavior".

In it, the UN admits that its massive effort to supply the world with condoms in a bid to stop the spread of HIV/AIDS is failing. It says that the ready availability of condoms has not significantly altered individuals' sexual behavior.

The report says that despite widespread knowledge of AIDS and easy access to condoms, only a small percentage of respondents began using condoms to prevent HIV transmission.

"Fewer that eight percent of women in all countries surveyed reported that they had changed their behavior by using condoms. Among married women, the percentages were particularly low," the report claims.

There is even one observation in that report that, to me, is worth noting. It is when it says that "among those respondents, whether male or female, who did change their behavior, the most frequently cited change had entails confining sexual activity to one partner."

You see, people will always go, sooner or later, to what is natural, to what corresponds more to human dignity.

To me, this report is one objective piece of evidence to expose the big, fat lie of those who claim condoms are the answer and remedy to the AIDS epidemic.

For many years, the UN has been mouthing this line, thanks to its former director for family planning activities, the Indian Nafis Sadik. Given this report, I wonder how the UN will act next.

I just worry a little because this Sadik, instead of being sidelined, is again appointed recently to handle the AIDS problem in Asia.

I would not be surprised if instead of taking away this condom thing, she will all the more flood the world with condoms, so much so that even every child, infant and invalid person would have one of them, in different kinds: colored, luminous, flavored, etc.

Resorting to condoms to tackle the AIDS epidemic is doomed to failure. It cannot pass the test of time. Condoms are an artificial means. It is also clearly unethical and immoral.

Man is meant for love. And where that love involves the flesh or the direct use of sexuality, it can only be expressed within the context of marriage whose natural properties are its being monogamous and indissoluble until death.

It also has to respect the whole truth about human sexuality. We can play around with these properties and conditions for a while.

But the nature of things -- in this case, of marriage, human love, and sex -- will see to it that sooner or later, the demands of nature will win.

Condoms can only distort and demean the very nature of the sexual act. It dehumanizes the noble and even sacred conjugal act by detaching it from the dynamics of love and from the requirements of human sexuality.

They downgrade sex into a merely animal act, purely physical and biological. They make sex to be a only function of the passions and urges.

They deform and corrupt human conscience. They easily become instruments for infidelity and promiscuity.

Condoms should be stigmatized in our society and in our culture.

8.24.2002

On Tsismis/Chismis

I can't help issuing this retort to ________'s "Tsismis is not tsismis if it isn't true."

Meaning, it's no longer tsismis if it's false? What would that make of a tsismis that's actually true? News report? (O K., don't quote Susan Sontag on this ha!) To my mind, tsismis is tsismis whether it's true or not as long as there is a desire to know what you need not know, usu. delicate, private and personal/confidential matters best confined within certain parties. There is really no excuse for being tsismoso/tsismosa. If you are a writer, esp. an investigative reporter, you have this sublime excuse called public information - but only if that information is essential to the survival and QOL (quality of life) of the recipients of 'public service.' Anything outside of that would be a busybody's intrigue-sowing, rumor-mongering, and worst of all, character-assassinating (intentionally or unintentionally) offense.

Twelve Pillars in Living a Full Life

(I normally don't give even a second look to titles like this, but this anonymous list seems to speak the truth.)

1. Be honest with yourself. Avoid the temptation of self-delusion.

2. Widen your horizon and interest. Stretch your mind by reading, talking, and listening. Be creative. Establish and deepen relationships.

3. Be in touch with your feelings and develop your sense of insights. Listen and be attentive to what the person means not merely on what he says.

4. Get beyond fault-finding. Persons don't like accusations and incriminations. They want to hear what they can do about their weaknesses and mistakes.

5. Focus on the positive. Emphasize points of agreement without denying the differences.

6. Confront problems; don't evade them. Growth can only come through encountering and facing reality squarely.

7. Write out plan of actions. Positive actions depend on clear thinking and writing helps a lot in achieving it.

8. Keep priorities. Focus on main issues. Do not be misled by details and non-essentials.

9. Don't oversimplify. Life is not black and white but different shares of gray.

10. Keep an open mind. Best solutions may not be your solution, so see also others' perspectives.

11. Retain your sense of humor. Humor can reduce pains and tensions. It can restore your sanity in moments of crises.

12. Pray for the right solution to life's problems. God alone is the source of good things, right desires and just works.

More Untranslatable Tagalog (and Pinoy Quirks Too)

I stole these from the PDI Libre column of Nap Gutierrez titled "Ano sa Ingles ang nilalamok?" and a succeeding column:

Bakit ba ang mga Pinoy kahihilig magsabi ng "Pwede bang magtanong?"
Hindi pa [ba tayo] nagtatanong ng lagay na yon?

Ano sa Ingles ang…?:

"nilalamok"

"nagpagulong-gulong"

"Baka maulanan ka."

"Ang bango-bango mo."

"bulong-bulungan"

"Suminga ka nga."

Prodigy

In the rare chance that I get to exercise, I only do it to the tune of Prodigy's music. Believe it or not, Firestarter and other pieces from the album The Fat of the Land often serves as my morning warm-up ditty. So far only Prodigy manages to get me to jog and sweat it out in, well, prodigious profusion. (Chemical Brothers comes close but not quite.) I jog and jog then that's it, I'm done for the day. Everything else is psychological -- I have well-toned abs and pecs, I am perfectly toxin-free, I can eat and do anything allegedly bad for the health, I am perfectly happy! I dunno whether Prodigy's band members are devil worshippers or what. I saw one of their slam-bang videos on MTV and I swear to God, it's pretty scary. The lead singer sports a faux pair of horns - hair gelled into two standing tussocks, not to mention a hideous pair of eyes. Is the devil capable of churning out beauty? Can the devil ever have a claim to creative musicality? (I doubt it.) Whatever, it is a great misfortune that my brother took the album away with him to Cavite. Now I am just a despicable lump of flab.

CCCP as Commie Chic

I couldn't quite take this capitalist attitude of capitalizing on anything - even on Che Guevara and his famous mug, Mao Zedong and his red star, and the quondam world power CCCP and its hammer-and-sickle flag.

Look where these once-horrific Iron Curtain symbols now lay in peace and utopian détente -- in the bosoms of the urban cool and even the urbane rustic. These symbols are practically everywhere, from the bars to the beaches. They are worn, I hazard to guess, by people who have zero knowledge of Fidel Castro or the Cold War. It's as though the terror and seeming imminence or inevitability of the Domino Theory never came upon us. Does wearing these symbols with impunity a kind of capitalist flaunting of the defeat of an ideology? I don't understand. Please explain.

Let's see. I imagine myself buying a shirt with a stark-red star, and at the back, 'CCCP' is spelled in big bold red. The fit is perfect - to a T. Would I wear it? (Sure.) Out on the street? (Why not? With a fisherman's hat pa.) Why? (Because it has a cool design and that nostalgic feel, too.)

(Ok, yun na.)

Right Click Your Face

I am amazed by our young, guwapung-guwapong congressmen. How can they manage to look handsome in spite of themselves? Oh, they have yet to taste the full flavors of corruption.

Someone should remind them this - and this should scare them enough if they have the slightest amount of vanity running through their veins: Corruption has an uglifying quality.

So they saw a legal loophole and ran to untangle it to expose the hole, but what is their motive? It's the same reason we were not very happy with Sen. Lacson's Jose Pidal exposé. It's not so much a case of the First Gentleman masquerading as Jose Pidal (whose contested bank account(s) is/are private account(s)) as much as his accuser having a clearly dubious agenda. To quote today's de Quiros', "This isn't just a case of those who presume to have no sin demanding to cast the first stone, since those who cast the first stone are only as guilty as the person they are stoning. This is a case of the sinful demanding to stone the (reasonably) sinless. [So] the impeachers say… no man may be above the law.… …[T]hen they should look at themselves."

Yesterday, PDI's editorial claims this whole brouhaha about the Davide impeachment may be all about not just power but Danding Conjuangco's business interests. Wow pare, ang babaw naman; buti sana if it's all about Constitutional consistency (as Dean Jorge Bocobo constantly rants on, and for good reason)!

There's something awfully bad to be said, too, about these young politicos' being children of political dynasties, but I leave that to the more fearless columnists of the day.

Crossing the Street

107.

Whenever I cross a busy street, I stop being myself. I forget who I am, where I come from, where I work. I think only of being just a plain pedestrian.

But I try to be the best pedestrian that I could ever hope to be.

In a busy street, one could run into a lot of things if one thinks too much of oneself. One could run into the gamut of risks - from violent ego clashes to prequels to social revolutions to near-death experiences. The worst is getting run over, suffering the fate of a flattened cat.

Because crossing a street is essentially a bluffing game, one must know how to play the tricks.

In Metro Manila where I play the game everyday, about 7 out of 10 motorists do not give way to people crossing a pedestrian lane especially in the absence of traffic enforcers. Most drivers are understandably driven to beat the red light whenever they can; sheer human reflex, no doubt. But because most roads are biased against the pedestrian, one should use everything in his/her power to win the game.

One can use one's charm because many motorists are total dupes when it comes to charming. If you don't have the "it" - as in, you look like you only take a bath once a month, and you carry a frown that says you will never win the lotto - you can use the power of the palm. But use it in a distinctly courteous manner.

However, since other creatures behind the steering wheel are far from courteous to deserve a corresponding gesture, put on an arrogant front at your own risk.

Occasionally, there are bleeding hearts who stop at the sight of hapless pedestrians, or those apparently milking for motorist sympathy, or even jaywalkers. A pedestrian/jaywalker should express his/her gratitude by darting to the other side like a mouse on the lam. It's the height of asar to bide one's sweet time walking like a super model on the ramp, to steal a phrase. To the supermodel wannabe, jeepney drivers often shout the same thing, "Parang naglalakad sa Luneta ang p_tsa!"

Crossing the street is certainly not fun. It's one of life's little pains. This is different to, say, doing Makati's skywalks - a glorious inspiration from Hong Kong and Singapore. Being a pedestrian can only have profound value in the presence of danger.

Everyone should experience being a pedestrian for it reduces us to our purest essence - travelers in the road of life, in certain danger if we don't take heed of certain ordinances.

(So pedestrianization is a great social equalizer. Problem is, who will be left driving in the streets?)

What We Screen Out

Our lives are spent in equal increments of time. But some moments seem longer, while others seem to have never occurred at all. Some moments are so important they stay in the mind for so long, while some are so insignificant and irrelevant they are at best buried deep into the subconscious, if not in the realm of forgetting.

I got to check one of my past diaries and it attracted my attention anew because it took account of the things I had snubbed in the course of one day.

I'm still thinking whether I should release it.

Memorandum

From: Your Ecological Disaster Coordinating Council Chair

To: Wildlife news writers

Re: Miscellaneous ecological matters

1. For that essential ecological significance, you may want to include in the writeup the fact that a plant or an animal is an indicator species. An indicator species is one whose mere presence indicates the ecological stability of a particular biosphere (an ecosystem subunit) and whose absence thusly sends an alarm, or a warning of possible instability.

Ex. The presence of Philippine eagles in a given area indicate the availability of monkeys and other preys, and monkeys mean an abundance of forest fruits, etc. - all pointing to a healthy state of the environment. The loss of an eagle, where they used to be abundant, would either mean all their preys (monkeys, etc.) are gone or there is now an uncontrolled number of monkeys that they pose a threat to the farmlands. (This seems to be a funny scenario but it is not improbable. The kangaroos of Australia have of late been considered to have reached 'pest' status.)

2. I've always been a bit apprehensive, however, on the subject of total ban of wild game. In tackling wild game, I believe we must especially avoid the pitfall of pitting human interest against wildlife welfare/wellbeing. The locals affected must themselves feel the pinch of wildlife endangerment because it's in their (selfish) best interest. But whether they accept the fact or not, they are inescapably dependent on the welfare of the wilds. In the first place, all of human race is the ultimate stakeholder; after all, we are inextricably linked to the food chain.

The key words therefore are grassroots education and self-regulation.

In the case of Nueva Ecija's giant fruit bats, traditional hunting may be allowed if these bats reach explosive population levels. Bats are rightly viewed as pests, not pets, when they reach such a prodigious number. However, locals must also realize that bats are natural pesticides - i.e., voracious mosquito- and insect-chompers, not to mention agents of seed dispersal.

Our ultimate goal must be to bring back wildlife population to sustainable levels, where we can benefit in ways we've never known and protect and perpetuate our humble traditions again. (There must be a little qualification here: Sagada's tradition of massive bird-killing during the migration of birds from the Siberian winter is more of a harmful tradition than a sustainable one because the method used to trap birds alarmingly resembles a finely-meshed seine.)

3. Extinction is a natural phenomenon. But the current rate of extinction is not.

Thank you for listening to this.

Our Curse - Is it Permanent?

I think it was Manuel L. Quezon III who described our national plague of politicking politicians as "a national curse." Who wouldn't agree?

This leads me to think as to whether curses are permanent.

It looks like it is, at first glance. But as I examine my almost one decade of experience in the spiritual renewal movement (I came here as a johnny-come-lately), I have seen that evil spells can be broken. People who thought they will never be able to forgive eventually soften. People who've been harboring secret resentments break down in tears of healing. I have seen incredible twists-of-fate, unbelievable reversals of fortune, spiritual-wise. I have seen how an individual possessed by a demon could be freed by an exorcist. There have even been claims of healing both physical and spiritual! Maybe I am giddy because I am biased, but I am a (non-practicing) scientist, too, remember, and I believe in the merits of rational thinking and the virtues of the scientific method.

Yes, miracles happen when we believe they will, when we have in us the desire to change for the better. The moment we decide on metanoia, every good thing follows; nothing can ever stop it from happening.

Curses then must not be a permanent thing. Spells can be broken. Nora Aunor (or rather Ricky Lee) was right, after all. Walang himala, mga kababayan, sapagkat ayaw nating maniwala sa himala. Walang himala; nasa atin ang himala; nasa atin ang ating ikabubuti o ikasasama. Walang himala sapagkat ayaw nating baguhin ang mga bulok sa ating kalooban; ayaw nating umangat mula sa ating sariling sumpa.

(There is no miracle because the Filipino family, our family, is happy and content to curse itself.)

More than a national exorcist, what we need is to confront the evil and the ugly in ourselves.

His Eye on the Sparrow

I woke up Sunday morning to the riotous shrieking of a sparrow perched on top of a wooden post. As I lifted my drowsy head up, it was with delight that I see my window framing a happy burst of sunshine, with that image of a bird at the center heralding the break of day. I got the message instantly. Yes, there's a message there this time. How many times in a year, in a lifetime, do I wake up that way anyway?

I remember going to bed filled with some apprehension. I like crises. I like change. I like tectonic movements. This is because I want growth, I want moving on, no matter how little the steps. But I do not want change, especially abrupt change borne of unjust actions and machinations. I lay my head on my pillow laden with this burden.

Then I wake this way - the way of the sparrow. His eye is on the sparrow. He watches over me. He knows. He knows what storms I am going through once again. It's not as though this is my first time. How many impossible storms have I weathered? And how many times did I emerge as the victor instead of the vanquished, without even lifting a finger to defend myself? All because I chose to do the better part of trust and faith, believing that He loves me, won't leave me alone with my enemies?