Condominiumized, 2

(This is not meant to lead to an argument, okay.)

One of the sad oddities in this life is that, while the rest of creation feels the need to contracept very badly, there's a sometimes alarming number of people within my circle that sorely wish overpopulation was their family problem. Try as they might, they fail to conceive a single zygote, and God knows how much pain they have to endure: primarily egos bursting, no matter who the barren party happens to be. Off the top of my head, I can count about 10 couples having such a problem. It's a bad joke especially since they are more than able and willing to reproduce like rats and perpetuate the species. I wonder what goes through the mind and heart of these people and how they're able to handle the embarrassment and loneliness and frustration. While this is admittedly probably a far better problem than having nothing to feed one's child, one can't underestimate the pain the couple goes through, all the blaming, the shame, the unfulfilled dreams, the threat to their very marital life. I can imagine how much they are taunted by the condomized tenor of the times. One couple I know solved the problem by settling with the next best thing: adopt an abandoned kid.

Treadmills, treadmills

Walking the length of Ayala Ave.'s sidewalks is no longer what it used to be. Before, all you did was walk and walk and that was it: you reach point B from point A no sweat, presuming you are good at dodging the cars at the intersections. But now, you're in for a lot of sweating and surprise. All those underground passages they've been constructing in recent years (I haven't walked along Ayala in a long time) turn out to include escalators, so one can't complain much.

Me, I certainly can't. And because I'm cheap, it follows that I'd treat this novel situation in a freeloading light: Geez, free treadmills!

That means I am forced to do something they said is essential but something I scoffed at as totally unnecessary: daily exercise. I see all the four or five escalators as my personal conveyor belts to health, and the accompanying stair beside each as an opportunity for a vigorous cardio workout.

I can take the alternate route too: the neat elevated walkway snaking through Dela Rosa, Herrera, etc., but there are the four intervening mall queues and mall tours to contend with in Greenbelt, Landmark, Glorietta, and SM, all sure to tempt me into taking some unwanted rest, the air-con diverting me from my goal of burning unwanted fats and toning my atrophied muscles.

I am thankful to whoever invented the escalator. (I've always wondered, though, what those brushes lining the entire lengths of new escalators are for. Maybe free shoeshine?) With these inspired inventions, the more inane exercisers like me have the choice of stepping on each of the moving escalators in the opposite direction. That is, if they haven't got any little reputation or credibility to protect -- which is a liberating thing.

Note that these consecutive underground courses digging into what used to be street-level intersections at corner Paseo, Herrera, Makati Av., etc. are not for the faint of heart. They can be quite precipitous inclines or forbidding heights depending on where you're coming from. In whichever case, the minute you hit the escalators, you feel like being in the bag reclaiming section of the airport, where you are the bag, or in that MTV scene in an Eminem video where facsimiles of the angry, foul-mouthed blonde rapper are moved in assembly line fashion. The only difference is your bones and sinews are expected to exert a little more effort above the laziness threshold.

To me, the PE self-motivated enrollee, that means a chance to pump up my heartbeat to high above normal. That is supposed to be good for the BP in the long run. I used to be a health buff, but when I realized that when you're done for, you're done for, I stopped. My friend ReyJun said I'm like the lazy British in this regard. It didn't occur to me what unnecessary exertions could do to my quality of life.

This is a far better therapy, I've found out, than the one I'm spending Saturday sessions for: "reality therapy." Treadmill therapy helps give me clarity.

Try it. You may indulge yourself on what I call "Socratic wager"-like thoughts. Or you might "process" yourself without the aid of your counselor and counseling classmates. (To mimic some of the pop questions and oft-repeated lines: Try to dig up your root memories, the touchstone events of your life. Those are the things that may have caused all your troubles. Do you have a tendency to escape problems or exhibit what they call a flight (fright?) instead of fight response? Do you withdraw from the world instead of confront it? Do you have a fear of death? Do you lack self-esteem? Do you realize how it aggravates that certain void you're unconsciously trying to fill up? Bo Sanchez once claimed he was "a sex addict," to everyone's surprise. Are you? What deepest secrets are you tring to hide? Where is your toxic shame coming from? Could you have developed it in response to fear of abandonment?)

There I go again, the psychic psycho trying-hard wannabe. But, yes, those are just some of the thoughts you can now afford to occupy yourself with because you don't have to navigate sidestreets and crossings and play hopscotch or watchamacallit with Makati's zipping vehicles. You can now walk leisurely even if there's typhoon Signal No. 3 or even in the middle of global-warming summer. But, wait, where's the fun in that as far as sweating out is concerned? If this new sidewalk is to be your treadmill, you are expected to sacrifice comfort.

Along the way, you may also visualize the vaporization of all the microwaveable Mini-Stop packed lunches, cheap "Jollijeep" stuff, and burgers you've snorted. (My old new boss A. treated me lately to this nice Japanese burger joint in Amorsolo called Sango. They sell great-tasting burgers there along with finger lickin'-thick fries, but you also go there to check out their Japanese-made robotic toilet!!)

Then to make all your efforts totally useless, as the Spaniards do (have a bacchanalian feast on giant paellas then belch everything out to start another round of dyspepsia-inducing saturnalia), you can now try without fear all those unspellable stuff (hummus? amouse bouche? tapenade? couscous?) you've read in food reviews, seen on celebrity chef shows, or encountered in tiangges here and there but too afraid to try.

On temptation

I'm so embarrassed up to now. The previous week's session almost turned into a minor spat because of a new definition that I thought was alarming. F. said he learned something new about temptation lately: that it is something to "befriend," instead of something to avoid, evade, purposely treat like the plague. I thought there was something wrong somewhere, which launched a series of on-the-verge exchanges. My fellow focus-group discussants, let's just say, said I was being defensive, but I was just being cautious.

Temptation is not considered a sin per se. That's our common ground. But we are to avoid occasions of it. That's where we held divergent views. I then recalled a priest (maybe to hold up the authority card) who likened temptation to an angry barking dog tethered to a tree. It would be foolish for someone, he said, to approach that dog, knowing it's a dog of temptation. I thought this definition was apt. The point was reinforced when another authority figure told me, "I won't get anywhere near temptation. I know I am weak. I know I will give in." I thought, that was wisdom speaking again.

F. himself, being an ex-seminarian, confirmed that that was what he learned too when we was still trying to become a priest. But now, he said, he knows better. "We need to befriend our temptation because that will show the areas where we are weak and why." I said I got his point. It's obviously correct. But could we perhaps refine the definition because "befriending" might be taken to mean "giving in"?

H., our moderator intervened, a bit ruffled. He said F.'s word was apt. He said that knowing intimately the things that tempt us is an act of "befriending our temptations." "It doesn't mean we must fall into the trap, it only means we must get near, contrary to what was taught, and use it to better understand - and arm - ourselves. Jesus was tempted three times in the desert, but did he sin? The confessional is full of tempting revelations (that could be too much for the priest), so does that mean we should avoid confessing now? H. said the priest's metaphor (with due respect) was inappropriate. "A barking dog is no symbol of temptation. What foolish person would get near something fearsome in the first place? Temptation is something attractive."

That clammed up my big mouth, although honestly I thought I wasn't being entirely pointless. My point has truthiness written over it too. It's a point that's humble enough to acknowledge that playing with fire is not healthy in the face of man's fallen nature. Plus the motivation behind isn't the least bit suspect, springing from the desire not to commit foolishness for love of righteousness. And, most importantly, it's free of the usual holier-than-thou presumption.

But then ex-seminarian F. also figured that one cannot really avoid temptation; the more one avoids it, the more it will haunt the person like a taunt. And I agreed.

H. expounded, "The problem with a number of religious thoughts -- note that I said 'religious,' not 'spiritual' -- are that they are not psychologically sound. 'Forgiving is forgetting.'/'Forgive and forget.'That's one stupidity. 'It's bad to get angry.' That's another. Jesus got angry in the temple -- was he being bad? Etc."

Going back to the problem of temptation, H. then implied that, if you know your weaknesses and the reasons behind them, you'll understand yourself better. You are aware how your weakneses are best addressed, you'll be better equipped to make yourself stronger. "'The measure of a chain's strength is through its weakest link,'" he added. I nodded in silence.

He added, "Know thy enemy. Keep your friends closer and your enemies even closer." (Isn't that from Tao Te Ching or Art of War?) Then he shifts metaphors: "How else do we arm ourselves against disease but through inoculation? Vaccination, for instance, is all about using a bit of the virus to cure the fever or whatever symptom or disease it is causing."

Then he said, "Look at the greatest saints. A nice book has depicted them each as haloed and angel-faced, but with a snake's tail wagging down below." He implied that saints are real people who made themselves holy by being ruthlessly waging war on their demonic selves, by being brutally honest about themselves, by facing squarely their own respective temptations, by befriending them.

At this point, I recalled Peter Kreeft's alliterative line -- "Saints are simply sinners saved -- and I immediately understood.

On trust

(This should've been a sermon-per-minute Sunday post, but I was too busy having a real life.)

It's amazing how much trust we place in people.

We trust that the driver won't plunge the vehicle into the river. We trust that the cook won't feed us poison. We trust that the waiter won't spit on our mango shake even when we didn't watch our tone carefully. We trust the janitor won't use our toothbrush to clean the toilet when we're not around. We trust the guard wouldn't accidentally fire his gun on us. We trust our employees to be sending our taxes to government regularly. We trust our coworkers would do their part of the job. We trust our best friends never to snitch on us. We trust our parents to love us with no strings attached. We trust our kids would be loyal to us and won't disappoint us. We trust the driver of the car approaching our direction won't run us over. We trust in our husband or wife to be faithful. Even when we feel betrayed now and again, we trust in man's humanity to man.

We trust the bank won't run off with our hard-earned money. We trust our utility firm that the water remains potable and we are not being overcharged. We trust the guy on the street won't divest us of our earthly life and belongings. We trust our neighbor won't touch our kids at the wrong places in our absence. We trust the priest won't spread the secret we divulged to him. We trust media not to knowingly feed us lies. We trust our teachers to be accurate. We trust our siblings and friends will always be there for us through thin and thick. We trust the doctor will do what's best for prolonging our health. When we hope against hope, we are saying we choose to trust God.

Babies instinctively trust that the one feeding them is someone worth trusting back. Trust is built into our system that, once it's betrayed, we're traumatized and need to be reprogrammed. We were born to trust, and trust we will up to our last dying gasp.

There's so much to respect about the word trust. We haven't got much choice anyway. The reverse is much too impossible. Paranoia will only make us miserable.

It's just awful how the lofty word is cheapened when it was used as a brand for a condom.

Time to reclaim trust and put it back to its rightful place.

Random nothings

Post-Centennial editorial

Whenever there's an Oblation Run (the APO frat-sponsored nude runs in University of the Philippines campuses), this reaction from the female audience is inevitable: "Ang li-iiiit! Ang li-iiiit!" ("Sorry, boys, we don't smoke!!!!")

What silliness. Where did these girls ever get the notion that it should get any bigger? They should learn to appreciate it when truth stares them in the face. Maybe they're frequenting porn sites too much and have been brainwashed with all the lies. They shouldn't be deceived by appearances. They might get shocked how much the the Homo erectus guy inflates like balloon, in which case they could risk being offended. Sex Education 101 -- that's what they need, in case they've already removed it from the curriculum.

**

Review: The 12-grain bread

Last week, I ate four slices of Gardenia's experimental, not-for-sale "12-grain bread" out of curiousity. Some Philippine Women's University culinary students gave them away. The bread tasted quite good. The ingredients list didn't reveal what those 12 grains were. Wait, there was no such list. I'm sure there's oatmeal, wheat, millet, rye, rice, and corn in there. What else could they possibly make bread with? Bird seeds and acorns, I guess. I expected my suspicion to bring me allergies and palps, but thankfully this lab rat didn't have any.

I'm tickled by the concept. Remember this weird Ilocano dish called "bulanglang"? It is an unsightly concoction of disparate grases thrown helter-skelter in a witch's cauldron and then boiled to perfection in an undefinably ugly brown-black-and-everything-in-between muck. The resulting taste of the gooey stuff (largely due to saluyot and okra) is one of homeopathic medicine. It's an acquired taste, and I've acquired it, making me a first-rate gourmand. I finally was able to like it after about twenty years of daring (and perhaps subconsciously dreaming to become a celeb chef). It's an herbal, for gad's sake. Maybe they can market the unappetizing "bulanglang" as a "256-vegetable dish" to end all vegetable dishes.

**

Multitaskers

Can you imagine a person crying -- no bawling -- but eating like a wolf at the same time? Outrageous, right?

But I swear I've seen babies do it.

Talented kids.

I've no idea how they're able to do it without choking to death.

Dear Dolphy,

Your true comic heir is not Vic Sotto. The truly hilarious and prodigiously talented Michael V -- that's who should be declared your real heir. Maybe Joey de Leon too. But definitely not Vic Sotto, although Vic Sotto can be funny too in his understated, deadpan style. Maybe the similarity lies more in talent in coupling with the nicest girls around. :-) Mang Dolphy, your comedic style is actually unique: one made mostly of deliberately cruel jokes, hilarious in their meanness, but saved by their candor, except perhaps for those with issues in self-esteem for which it’s better to be kind than be truthful. (Then again, people who can't stand the truth about themselves are puffed up with pride it's better to burst their bubble than help them along with their blinded balloon.)

Dear Nature,

I'm your lover; you know that. But sometimes, you're such a freak! I swear you can't always claim to be an act of God, can you? God is good... all the time. You're not. Why is it that whenever I go home dead-tired from work, you always break into a melodramatic downpour? Do I deserve that kind of reward? The same is true when I prepare for work in the morning; I could use a little more inspiration, you know.

And why is it that, whenever I bring an umbrella with me because you rained down so hard yesterday, you always fail to rain again, making me look funny carrying a flaming yellow beach umbrella with the weather being perfectly fine? I can appreciate a joke when I hear one, but not when it is this bad.

Mother N., you can now declare force majeure, your sense of humor is not very funny.

And note how you play favoritism: You're always on a bad mood whenever some people think it's time for President Gloria Arroyo to step down, thus ensuring her her position up to 2010.

Idiopathic

Working on the latest evidence-based medical stuff, I have this latest discovery: So many diseases have unknown causes, thus the medical term "idiopathic." This is a puzzling discovery, knowing that it's already 2008. When I was a kid, there was this show on TV titled "1999," and it showed an anticipated world in such a bizarre post-ultramodern configuration: a world overcrowded with scientists who each seem to have a particular expertise. It's already 2008, so it's even more startling to know that steroid, "the wonder drug," remains to have a largely unknown mechanism of action (or how exactly it treats a certain disease).

**

Dear diary:

Hey, I'm back in the company where I started. Isn't that weird? I don't know what to say. This hasn't been my plan, not that I ever have had one, 'cause I live on a day-to-day plan, like a monk in the Sahara. It just so happened that a highly placed friend and former officemate who trusted me enough despite of me offered me this new job, which I was glad to accept because it's something that fits me to a T.

I am also glad to notice, as I review the past companies and clients I've worked with (and worked for), that they are all clickable. Yay! I further notice that I've been a technical writer-data miner from the beginning, and that means my official designation is...tadaa..."subject matter expert." I tend to deny the all-too-assuming "expert" part, tho. In the age of data mining, no one can possibly be an expert. What is clear is that I'm at least a genius.

Seriously, mine so far is NOT bad a work history for someone who's been repeatedly rejected by local firms for downright daft reasons. :-)

Condominiumized

Why is this markedly annoying topic (which makes me and other people so unpopular) the topic of the day? I dunno, but it suddenly cropped up like bird flu in the midst of summer. But for the sake of discussion, let's recap what we've read so far anyway, followed by my lazy thoughts. (Note: I am not trying to dissuade anyone because there's practically no one. :-))

Somewhat valid to strongly valid arguments:

- Men who are avowed celibates and do not have a family should not dictate on how people should have sex.

- Surprise: I agree - especially when the target subjects are not even Catholics or practicing Catholics. Civil law is different from Catholic moral law; we Catholics must respect nonbelievers' beliefs. We must oppose only those laws that will deprive us of our freedom to exercise our faith.

But there is a big but: We know that a majority of Catholics are non-practicing. And we know how Filipino Catholicism is syncretic, incorporating other religious elements alien to Christianity. It's so hard to reconcile this observation with the allegation that what the bishops "dictate" has a bearing on whether a Catholic man uses contraceptives or not. I agree, though, that the bishops' 'dictate,' apart from being perceived as playing the conscience card, may be perceived as a form of political pressure when addressed to politicians who are avowed Catholic. Now, it's the politician's call whether to give in to what's popular or to what's right and fair according to his/her conscience. Then again, he was voted into the position supposedly as a people's representative. Dilemma time.

Another point I'd like to note is this: Priests actually know a lot more in all areas of human life because of the confessional box. And priests are very busy people precisely because they are married to their respective dioceses.

Additionally, the ones enjoying the actual sex are not being blamed enough. Have they actually read "Humanae vitae" to be so conscientious about not using contraceptives?

- Overpopulation causes poverty.

- Okay, this is so tiresome already, but could it also be the reverse? And what about the contribution of corruption, bad government, social inequity, globalization? Maybe, addressing the real root is the real answer, if eliminating poverty fast is our goal.

(More later)

Sorry for the inconvenienced

I used to have a friend in Baguio who's a taxi driver. He was the husband of Annie, our landlady's all-around help (major doma). One day, my taxi-driver friend recounted how he ferried two kids to their exclusive prep school. As expected, the kids were bratty for an inconsequential reason during the trip. One kid repeatedly gnashed his teeth and screamed, "I AM ANGRY!!!"

Annoyed, the driver said, "You angry? If you are angry, I am hungry!"

We both laughed out loud at that, he at his rhyming ability, and I at his wild flight of logic. But his reaction, he said, was effective in shutting up the kids, who were even wilder than his English.

I thought his line now to be unintendedly profound. "If you are angry, I am hungry."

If the rich and middle classes are merely angry, it means that the poor are really, really hungry. This truth is the subject of a local play by Chris Martinez, Last Order sa Penguin Cafe. And no more is this truth relevant than these days.

When will these unbearable price increases ever end? The mere inconvenience to you and you can spell life and death to most people.

Anti-Dilbert

(Cubicle culture)

"What's the matter, peanut butter?"

Gorgeous' morning greeting sounded hip and cool to Jinky, so Jinky noted it in her mental Post-It for later use. There's something about Gorgeous' greeting that's smart, she thought. She just couldn't put a finger on it.

Then Gorgeous went on having small morning talk with Jinky. Jinky gave her own dose of early-morning nothings.

When she was about to hunker down to work, Jinky remembered how smart Gorgeous' greeting was she just had to match it. So, with all the charm she could muster, she said,

"Bye-bye, coco jam!"


**

M. texted me this puzzle that I failed to answer despite strained efforts, so I'm sore as hell:

"Brain twister... This should be sent only to geniuses like you. Pls arrange these 3 words into 1 word: "ICE AND OUT." Clue: This is important to Filipinos. Text me back your answer..."

(The answer appears to be no-brainer it's so embarrassing.)

Rowling on failure and imagination

Nice speech, nice speech. - Failure? I can identify with that. I'd be glad to declare myself a failure, so I will never get invited to deliver commencement addresses like this. :p Give me imagination anytime - but preferably not when I'm all alone inside a locked room.

**

Our agate beauty. -Planet Earth: How speechlessly beautiful you are!

"Lighted clothing" - Anyone, anyone?

Weirdest drive-thrus - Americans = weirdoes.

Westminster scandal: open-air men's urinal - I thought it's a Filipino guy thing to piss everywhere like drunk dogs, but no. Attention: MMDA. You should see those urinals. Can't find the right link to the right pics, though.

Random nothings

(Notes to self)

These little Twitter-friendly thoughts occupied my week:

"Do you believe in hellfire???!!!" someone clutching a religious brochure once asked me pointblank without even introducing herself. I said, "Um, ya, guess so."

I admire evangelistic zeal, but not common discourtesy and invasion of privacy, so I thought back, "Do you believe in transubstantiation? Bilocation?"

**

Is beheading or even electrocuting chickens ever halal? How come some people behead some people like they're spring chickens?

**

Why are most art teachers dressed in rags, and why do most have disheveled hair? In short, why are they, um, artless?

**

It's one thing to read about Tourette's syndrome and another thing to meet someone who has. When the guy expectorated "!@#$%^&*()+" in the middle of the consecration during the Mass last Sunday, I thought someone was possessed, and I was the one almost ending up answering "!@#$%^&*()+"!!!

**

I remember O. who proudly exclaimed, "I'm a New Yorker now!"

Superciliously envious me thought, "So you're now a New Yorker, but do you actually read The New Yorker? :p

**

Dear diary,

I've just given up my job in QC. It was about the chemical businesses worldwide. Found it too hard for me. I shifted to medical copyediting. It pays to know that the "e" in Guillain-Barre syndrome has this diacritical mark, the "o" in Sjogren syndrome has an umlaut, the c in Behcet syndrome has a cedilla, and "opioid" is a medical word most often misspelled by doctor-writers, followed by "ophthalmic." I love my job, I love my job, I love my job. For now.

Tony Meloto speech criticized

First, disclaimer from the author (Mr. Carlos Palad, a Catholic apologist)

"Dear all:

"It has come to my attention that my [critique of] the speech of Tony Meloto in Ateneo has been forwarded [from a confidential mailing list] to the CFC-FFL of Frank Padilla, which has mass e-mailed my post to their supporters as well as to CFC members in order to defame the CFC-International Council.

"Now, because of the indiscretion of that mailing list member, the CFC-FFL is gleefully using MY GOOD NAME and is hiding behind MY REPUTATION in order to bring down Tony Meloto and the CFC International Council.

"As I took pains to point out in my original posting, it was NOT my intention to bring down Tony Meloto. Yes, he does have some theological errors IMHO, but these do not erase his dedication to service and his love for the poor. In pointing out certain weaknesses in his speech it was never my intention to denigrate his service, nor cast aspersions on his good intentions.

"I am ready to stand by my words and to face like a man whatever controversy comes my way, but it grieves me that my words are now being used in favor of a group (the CFC-FFL) that I have not ceased to warn people against."

***

Here's the forwarded (and supposedly confidential) critique:

Tony Meloto is a great man, and his deep love for the poor shines through. There is no denying his passion for our country, and his patriotism is something we would do well to imitate.

However, this speech of his only shows how deep he has fallen into the errors of liberation theology.

The errors can be seen in the following quotes:

Bishop Francisco Claver, SJ., comments on the reluctance before of the Church to address this issue in his new book The Making of a Local Church.

This is the classic criticism that the liberals have of the pre-Vatican II Church: that it allegedly lacked a social conscience. Those who know church history know that Catholic charity and social works were much more extensive and active prior to Vatican II than today, though.

Central to my being Catholic is Jesus' love for the poor. He saw the world through their eyes. His world-view was from the bottom up.

This is the classic error of liberation theology: the error that the Gospel is to be interpreted primarily through the eyes of the poor. Yes, the Church is the Church of the Poor: no less than Vatican II and the Magisterium said so. However, this does not mean that the poor are the privileged interpreters of the Gospel simply because they are poor.

The Jesus of history that I know, before he became the transcendent Christ to us, was a carpenter and the builder of both a physical and a spiritual kingdom.


The artificial separation between the "Jesus of history" and the "Christ of faith" is precisely the heresy that has been repeatedly condemned by the Magisterium, and which Pope Benedict XVI is thoroughly refuting in his book "Jesus of Nazareth." This heresy implies that the "Christ" taught by the Church is basically a construct of the early Christians which is different from the actual Jesus.

True Christianity is giving power to the powerless. It is about restoring human dignity and liberating God's people from begging and stealing....

At the heart of Christianity is social justice anchored on Jesus' love for the oppressed and the spirit of democracy is equality for all but looking at the vast social inequity in wealth and opportunity in our country clearly shows that we have been unfaithful to our core values and belief systems. God is not about structures and rituals but about caring.

These -- and many other passages in this speech -- clearly show that Tony Meloto conceives of Christianity basically as public service and as sociopolitical liberation. This is a terrible, terrible error.

I admire Tony Meloto as a man, but I really wish he'd be as good a Catholic -- doctrinally speaking -- as he is as a social worker and servant of his nation.

Updating Billy Joel

2008 is fast shaping up as a year of weird new fads and continuing fads. Here's the non-PR-driven midyear report.

Local

Dog culture. Glutathione and other food supplements, I mean, whitening agents. Nursing. Caregiving. Celebrity chefs. Extra-gorgeous Brazilian models. Rubik's cube. Richard Gutierrez. Kim Chiu and his Fil-Am partner. Dennis Trillo. Ateneo Blue Eagles' Chris Tiu. Marianne dela Riva. Gabby Concepcion, the return. KC Concepcion endorsements. Kris Aquino endorsements. Crocs. Square-toed pointy shoes. Mainstreaming of PSPs, mp3 players and popularity of digicams, digital SLR cameras, and cell phone cameras (rising in unison whenever there's a celebrity nearby). Advent of cell-phone TV. "Landline" cell phones. Dysfunctional psychology. Blogs as acceptable medium. Journalist bloggers. Twitter. Vlogs. Podcasts. YouTube videos. Multiply. Facebook. Tight-fitting tees, collared shirts, polos, jeans, shoes (and resultant constipation and asphyxiation?). Ces Drilon kidnapping. Commuting as extreme sport. Weird weather disturbances. Call centers, BPOs, KPOs, outsourcing. Botched body part augmentation. Sodomized operation. RP as Asia's most corrupt and garbage bin. Hong Kong-style noodles. Bird's nest hair (or "deliberately disheveled" hair) for guys. No fashion fads as fad. Vans slip-ons and Chuck Taylors (preferably white). Fedoras and other cool hats. Neo-punk bands (watered-down punk). Emo. Screamo. Spas and wellness shops. "Burger! Burger!" "Umbrella-ella-ella." Aussie Brian Gorrell spreading unspeakable revelations via his blog about the state of his immune system, bbfn bf DJ Montano, bff's Tim Yap's privates, and Philippine high-society. Unabated Filipino diaspora. +Rudy Fernandez, actor/action star. Sinking of "Suspicious Lines'" M/V Princess of the Stars, the death of ~700, and Suspicious' suing of Typhoon Fengshen. Rick Astley and other excessive '80s stars, the resurrection. Sassy Lawyer, sassed. Society columnist Malu Hernandez, the infamy. Giant billboard ads, downsized to thumbnails and avatars (not really). Oil price hikes, transport strikes. Imagine a world without [fill in the blanks] -- um, polyesters? Gawad Kalinga/CFC post-split controversy. MMDA's pink line (MMDA: please don't spare any street; you've overlooked that road leading to ABS-CBN from Quezon Av.). Dissing of birit divas and bad bossa nova (that's not bossa nova, that's kundiman.) Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses. American rapper Flo Rida's "Low." American Idol. Coke Zero. NFA rice. Manny Pacquiao. UP@100. Leah Salonga.


International

Biofuels-driven skyrocketing prices of oil, raw materials, staple foods. Martian soil investigation. Mass gay marriage in California. Established media outfits downsizing. Iran's nuclear arms and Photoshopped press release pics. North Korea, problem nation starting to soften up. Dysfunctional Myanmar. Downfall of Nepal's monarchy and ascent to democracy. China as bully nation to Tibet. Poorism (poor + tourism). Black man Barrack Obama as next US President by fait accompli. Chinese and Indian economies growing by leaps and bounds. Continued criticism of Bush's America's overstaying in Iraq. Super-rich Dubai building the world's tallest building - for now - and more. Chinglish and Singlish. Food riots in Haiti and elsewhere. The Edison Chen sex scandal (the most shameless and embarrassing and daring) in Hong Kong showbiz. Harry Potter growing up and showing his onstage. Jennifer Anniston + John Mayer. Amy Winehouse. Darfur, Sudan. Betancourt's et al.'s amazingly staged release from the jungles of Colombia. California wildfires. Floods here and there in Noah's ark proportion. +George Carlin, "counter-culture" humorist. +Sydney Pollack, filmmaker. Hundreds of thousands perishing in the Irrawaddy Delta, the beautiful white sand shore deposited with dead bloated bodies. Brangelina and their adopted United Nations kids. Imminent death of hyphen, semicolon, and copyeditors, predicted. Matt Harding. Txt msg'ing. Forwarded emails. Viral marketing. Continued demolition of barriers to entry in the face of US protectionism. Davos. G8 meet. Anglican communion split. Patrick Dempsey, the midlife blooming of. +Heath Ledger, actor.

Is this list an update of We Didn't Start the Fire ? Yes.

It could be projection

(Dysfunctional Sunday or New [Unauthorized] Psychological Measures)

One strong indication of dysfunction, I've learned lately, is projection. It is evident in the odd things a person does on the surface, which, upon closer study, has something sinister or seriously out of whack beneath it. Watch out for suspicious patterns. It takes a keen sense to uncover the underlying motives behind each weird 'act' or 'show.' It takes years of experience (and of course serious academic study) to discern properly. Me, I am in the process of learning to distinguish what's for show and what's for real in me and in others.

Important disclaimer: I used the word 'could' in the title because not all forms of difficulty, 'weird' behavior, suffering, pain, or mental anguish are a form or neurosis; certain seemingly negative things could be actually normal human reactions or even good or leading to something good.

Let's work ourselves through these probing questions to help sort out or process our respective issues (or confirm the lack thereof).

- Do you have a strong desire to have endless life achievements? It could be a cry to be loved or your way of compensating for a certain lack.

- Do you love noise or loudness, or are you a noisy or loud person yourself, like an empty tin can when struck? It could be that you're empty inside, or covering up a profound emptiness. Or it could be that there's something you don't want to hear.

- Do you feel a special desire to take care of little boys or girls or any particular group of people? It could be that you see yourself in them, a projection of your longing for someone to want and care for you, something you were deprived of.

- Do you flaunt your pedantic knowledge even when totally uncalled for? It could be that you're insecure about something. What are you trying to prove? Why? Or could it be you're afraid of something? Why? Are there other ways you try to brag or show off without compunction?

- Do you have a strong wish to be proven right at every turn? What are you trying to prove or protect? Why do you want to have the last word on everything? It could be that you've been told to be someone you think you're not, and you're just being defensive. It could be that you see yourself as something this small.

- Do you find yourself acting out the very things you hate about your mother or father? Like, do you hate your father for being alcoholic, while you find yourself ending up a drunkard? You have dysfunctional parents, and you are a codependent, and they've cloned a monster. Try to be aware and get to the bottom of things so you are able to deal with the right particulars/issues.

- Is sarcasm your 'natural' (as opposed to merely rhetorical) language? Relax. What are you so angry, so frustrated about? You could've been deeply hurt by something.

- In contrast, are you a people-pleaser? Are you someone who can't say no? Why? It could be that you're afraid rejecting people because you're afraid of being rejected yourself.

- Are you overly nervous, timid, or shy for no reason? Do you feel shaky? Do you walk with your head bowed, as though looking for coins people have dropped by accident? If it's neither osteoporosis or genetics that's the reason, it could be that you have a very poor self-esteem. Who told you you are ugly or unlovable? It's a lie. You are fine as you are and have the right to be loved. You could've been abandoned or experienced a form of rejection.

- Do you feel guilty all the time, especially guilty of having survived? You could have PASS (post-abortion survivor syndome). Or you could've been traumatized by war or any other event where people dear to you had died while you survived. Time to resolve by talking about it, grieving over it.

- Do you feel dirty no matter how many times you take a bath? Does your posture indicate something in you that you are hiding? Might you have been raped or molested as a kid?

- Do you have a desire to sexually molest kids? You are not merely being sex-starved or lustful. You could've been violated yoursef and probably you wanted to get even but couldn't. Or you hate yourself so much because you weren't able to defend yourself. Or you are guilty and deeply ashamed because you allowed it and even enjoyed it. Dear, you need some counseling.

- Are you turned on by whipping somebody or being beaten black and blue? You're in serious trouble. Make haste. Seek professional help.

- Are you always depressed or angry for no reason even if they played thumping-loud techno? You have some serious sorting out or processing to do.

- Do you want to kill, mass-murder, sponsor Rwanda-scale genocide? Could it be that Hitler is your grand-uncle? You might want to study how seriously messed up he was.

- Do you have any form of addiction?

- Any phobias bugging you?

- Are you paranoid about something? Obsessive-compulsive?

- Do you feel dictated at or pressured to do something that's not your obligation? You're being oppresed and must be set free, not the least from misplaced guilt.

- Do you stock up on canned goods like there's no tomorrow, panic-buy like WWIII would break out next week? You could've lived through extreme wartime want and you still haven't been able to get over it.

- Can't you get yourself off Internet porn? Are you often alone, online, and lonely? Is that how you get your instant connection fix? Do you see each person you meet as a potential sex-mate? Examine your heart, for there might be a big hole that needs to be filled in you, like the need for affection, to love and be loved, to be accepted for who you are, etc.

- Do you conjure up in your mind all sorts of cancer for each body part imaginable even when tests are consistently negative? Have your head examined, not your body. You might have fear of death. Why? That's something only you can answer.

- Any chronic psychosomatic disorders?

- Do you lust or fantasize after your own mother or father, brother or sister? That's not normal. Something is wrong and it's not about sex; it's more than about sex. I could be wrong, but it could be about deprivation issues. Talk to your nearest psychologist or counselor. Don't delay, and whatever funny thing you feel like doing, please don't act on it.

- Do you feel like you have to have that item that's not yours, at all cost? Thrilled by stealing things? Do the same steps above.

- Do you want to be always the center of attention, dominate a group? Do you feel obliged to solve people's problems and are easily distraught when failing to? Do you know the meaning of "messianic complex"? Who told you it's your right or duty to invade the world and correct things? Who have wronged you so?

- Are you overly possessive? Do you want to own a person? Do you buy people's friendship (by plying them with things)?

- Do you lie compulsively?

- Do you need to masturbate everyday even when you're way past adolescence? Are you perhaps wrangling with the demons of unmet needs?

- Are you escaping something by being extra-religious, closeting yourself in a nunnery or monastery or abusing the priesthood as your escape hatch? Examine yourself. What could you be fleeing from?

- Is your image of God that of a policeman, accountant, or prison warden? You're dead wrong. God loves you and He is a God of unconditional love, but you don't know it yet because you haven't felt it yet. Is your father or mother a punishing parent? Are they themselves victims of such a mindset or of physical violence as kids?

- Do you have sex fetishes? Could it be that you're envious of a certain body part that represents a real or perceived lack or inadequacy in you? (Like, a special predilection for nice arms symbolizes hunger for parental hug or affection.)

- Do you have devotion to delirious sensory happiness? Does your consolation lie in the addiction for collectibles masquerading as a serious hobby? Of course, hobbies are perfectly normal, but the thing is, is the word 'detachment' alien to you? What hurt or pain could you be trying to numb or compensate for? Or did you acutely lack for anything before?


As a counselor once put it, if you score even just one yes from above, you're a criminal, er, in need of some help or a kind of support group. But if you must insist you're okay, then congratulations.

These are just some of the tough life questions you might want to confront about yourself or others, in case you're into the hard but admirable ministry of reaching out. It's a painful process for anyone. And it requires humility to reach Step One at all: Be honest. So many people fail in this basic requirement because they don't want to go through pain.

If you don't want to heal by facing some hard facts about you, then that's your call. Nobody else will able to help you because you're the key to your own road to wholeness.

The hardest thing to do when dealing with projection is that the 'projector' is almost always in denial. This is most dangerous because self-delusion leads to lies being passed off as facts and facts being regarded as outright lies. In this case, it's best to abandon ship and file the case under "Hopeles Cases" or "In Need of a Miracle."

But we must be patient with the blind and the deaf. We must gently tell them that we're still open to lend a helping hand as soon as they're ready. 'Cause it's really hard to face one's problem when the person himself/herself is the problem.

One good, hopeful thing about all this, though, is that there's a hidden good in each, and it's for you to discover it. I won't deny you that pleasure, the joy of self-discovery.

**

A word of caution, though: Feeling our pain doesn't mean we have to despair, even though depression may be a natural part of it. In processing, we go beyond our pain by examining the whys. Let's now and then remind ourselves of our focus: that we are willing to go through pain because we want to heal and be whole.

Guide to effective dieting

If you want to put yourself off a pork-based diet or simply want to be allergic to eating pigs, just imagine what kind of slop the pig swills for lunch: rotten kitchen refuse collected by the local garbage collector.

(The image still doesn't work for me. I simply adore pork, which is my definition of "good cholesterol." Especially if it's porkchop rubbed with salt then grilled perfectly, so good luck to me.)

Slip-on dreadlocks

Will there be no end in sight to ugliness?

Apparently none. No, wait, this one ain't exactly ugly, but it made me suppress a giggle like a schoolgirl, for fear of ofeending the person (a tomboyish girl). At first, I thought it was real, and I thought, wow, how many hours did you spend braiding your curls and how do you shampoo that kind of hair? Amazing. But then something moved. Her hands groped for something in her head, something that looked like a clip. Then suddenly something got detached: the whole bunch of Rasta locks that were neatly tied up behind her head. Cheat! Look, ma, I can name that Bob Marley tune and look like him too in two seconds. Haha.

Matt Harding

What a beautiful, beautiful world we have. If I were God and I was fed up with the world, seeing this YouTube video would change my mind. It's amazing how one American's doltish dance can unite the world -- well, except most of the Islamic world (who'd probably find that dance evil), with the exception of moderate Jordan. Wow. The idea is so simple and yet to potent. For a while there, I found something beyond criticism. Even Madagascar's noisy sifakas (endemic lemur species) would agree.

(via Caffeine Sparks and Spy in the Sandwich)

Sacrileging religion

Jamiat fatwa against terrorism - Alleluia to Allah, finally, something I wanted to hear for so long from mainstream Muslims! (via CVJ)

U.N. scheme to make Christians criminals: Sharia-following Islamic nations demanding anti-'defamation' law - This one should be under "Double Standard Alerts." Shouldn't that make Muslims defaming Christians equally criminal?

Random nothings

You know what I don't get? Gabby Concepcion. Somebody please explain to me why he's selling like peanut-butter-and-banana pancakes. Or alright, Krispy Kreme classic glazed donuts. Sorry, Jego, if he's your cousin, but that's what I don't get: Gabby Concepcion.

To Gabby (close ba kami?): It's not you, it's me, because all art is subjective, amen.

**

Our Mexican pal A. reportedly was LOL-ing over our puto (all-Filipino rice muffin). Why? Because he said puto in Spanish is the male version of a woman who sells seashells and herself by the seashore. Btw, I've discovered thru Bayi that our indigenous puto actually came from the Malaysian pouto. What the... Will there be no end to these accidental discoveries?

Anyway, A. is back in Hong Kong now, where he is a businessman. He'll be going to Sydney (if he's not there yet) for the World Youth Day, like Sherwin. Lucky guys. The only World Youth Day to which I ever dreamed of going is the Paris World Youth Day back in the '90s, for the shallow reason that I'd love to see Paris. It's the numero uno tourist place I'm interested to see. My old friend F. was the one who was lucky enough to make it and see the Louvre and came face to face with "La Gioconda", make a side trip to Fatima and even Germany, etc. etc.

**

Remember Jawie, the Punjabi flying student? He's now back in his place as a Philippine-licensed pilot. I didn't know we're capable of training pilots. Well, Jawie now has a "Captain" preceding his already aristocratic reputation. I know. I'm grinning with envy now. He emailed just to say hi. I wasn't able to visit the Sikh temple in Paco upon his invitation, but I think some of our friends were able to, and they said they had to eat something odd, some kakanin with dessicated coconut or something, inside to purify themselves, to appease the gods, or something to that effect.

**

Been to T.'s and E.'s new condo unit in Ortigas. Wow. Was I impressed. Glad to see Justin to be a happy kid, in fact, an overly happy kid. Saw Mac, too, who was a fellow guest, and of course, he lost no time harassing me with endless putdowns. That's his expression of friendliness: anger. :p

**

Been to Ricky's mom's wake in San Fernando, Pampanga. She died of ovarian cancer after two excruciating years of fighting the illness at St. Lukes. Sigh. May she rest in peace now, and may my good friend Ricky recover from it financially and emotionally the soonest.

**

I'm still having a good laugh about A., my new desk editor officemate, who complained last last week that his rented apartment (in a Ls Pinas village) got flooded, and he chose not to report for work that night. "Did I have to close the weather update too? What -- with me as casualty?" he complained.

**

I forgot to say this, so I'll say it now: Tutoring, I discovered that one way a teacher can abuse his power is to pass off a student's brilliant idea as his own. It's so easy, and it happens. Hope I haven't been an idea thief, that I'm always citing my source whenever I borrowed something.

Corrollarily, I realized that publication of something is never a validation of originality, even if that's what's being used in the real world as a measure of validation. Even discoveries attributed to certain persons (think Einstein) turn out to be attributable to some other less articulate or less diligent originators.

**

I was rummaging through the last throwaways from my cousins' things when I discovered a stash of photos that brought me down so-called memory lane. The photographs of my nephew R. got me thinking a bit in the middle of all the mildewed clothing, unused Dove soap bars, discarded hotel stuff, unopened packets of dental floww, and other odds and ends (that pretty tin can of jasmine tea from hong Kong and that little ceramic letter opener from Japan must be saved, as must those assorted knickknacks from San Francisco, Canada, and everywhere, especially the rest of those exceedingly beauiful Japanese stuff). Going back, it struck me as odd that the 13 year old claims he doesn't remember anything about his 6-odd years here. He might need all these pictures in the future to help him remember. That's so bad because he has an especially blessed childhood. Can't he tell what a lucky kid he's been? He went to a prep school in Merville, vacationed in Kong Kong, Japan, and all over Metro Manila and the suburbs, and then went to Canada and the USA for further schooling... and yet he doesn't remember anything? How come I remember, both vaguely and vividly, my formative years ni Manila from 0-6, and then all the succeeding summer vacations I had in my aunt's place, the first time I bit into a burger (the pickled cucumber was so good), rode an escalator in a place that would someday be called a mall, etc.)? Is there a kind of repression or suppression going on? Hope not.

I'm not very much worried about R.'s psychologicall well-being, though, 'cause he's been in good hands all along; he's a well-loved kid. I'm just dumbfounded by his bad memory. Maybe that's typical for boys his age. (I myself don't remember some of the things my mother told me about when I was about two or three, despite photographic evidence: trips to this and that place, etc.)

This reminds me, though, that, if you want a kid to really store sweet childhood memories in his conscious memory, then try to create memories during the years he is really able to remember. Of course, this is not to discount the ability of the subconscious and unconscious to store up gigabytes of memories.

**

These disjointed one-liner (sort of) narratives are all worth expanding each into a paragraph-long post, but I have neither the time nor the inclination today as I am deciding what to do next in life.

(I just finished Dickens' kinda difficult to read A Tale of Two Cities, a story a lot of people wish could happen in the Philippines, but I'm not so keen about the idea of seeing so many heads literally decapitated. I realized these devout Catholic French people were once like or no different than the Abu Sayyaf: beheaders! Is that the solution to all our problems? It's hard to reconcile the world's center of culture/art/civilization (sorry, America, it's certainly not you) being the birthplace as well of Saint La Guillotine. A Tale of Two Cities is a more gruesome, less believable, but nonetheless as significant a version of Les Miserables. Now I'm into Edith Wharton's House of Mirth. Microreview: OMG! Wharton is America's answer to Jane Austen. Critics say she's America's answer to Proust's surgical precision, but I can't relate 'cause I'm not sure if I ever want to touch Proust with a bamboo pole. That movie version of her novel Age of Innocence, no matter how excellent it's done, was a gross injustice to a prose like hers. Read Wharton, if you want to know what excellent prose is all about. I don't like too much exposition in novels; I want the narrative and the dialogue to do the subtle expository work at the back of the mind. But I nevertheless find Wharton to be an amazing writer/novelist. Her knowledge of the faults and foibles of men and women, especially their hypocrisies, their unalloyed yearning for shallow status and devotion to vacuous wealth in order to feel superior is just so admirable. Edith Wharton: I love you.

Stupidest

What could be a more stupid idea than "poorism"? Can you imagine your miserable day to day life being stared at by tourists from all over, with digital cameras in tow? Can you imagine being the subject of a rainforest of cell phone cameras raising in the air to record your hunger? Stupid! And bastos too. (via Walk This Way)

The future tense of English

2b or not 2b? -

How English Is Evolving Into a Language We May Not Even Understand -Panglish, lah? Nyet, in Pilipinas, we call it English Carabao.

Imagine a world without Filipinos having to leave

(A kinda annoyed response to this thought-provoking and undoubtedly well-meaning article by Abdullah Al-Maghlooth, an article that spins off from the movie "A Day Without a Mexican.")

Last Saturday, Joy de la Cruz, mother of three, sends off her husband Jeff, 31, at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport. He is to fly to Dubai to find a new job. He is a college graduate (B.S. Fine Arts) from a Manila university, but has long been juggling his time between odd jobs to tide his family over. He is taking a chance in Dubai because a cousin of his has already settled himself there as a welder. His cousin has been earning enough to set aside some money for the future, Jeff claims. He just might find his luck in Dubai, the luck that has since been eluding him here in the Philippines as an eternal part-time worker working for peanuts.

Behind such hopeful proclamations, though, are Jeff’s wife, two daughters and a son, on whose faces are etched the lines of worry and uncertainty.

Such a seemingly harmless domestic scene is repeated every minute of every hour that the Ninoy Aquino International Airport is operational. And the characters come in all stripes from all over this archipelago of 7,107 islands.

Just imagine the amount of costly airport heartbreaks and psychological aftereffects that is prevented from happening without Filipinos being forced to leave family and country against their will. It would be a world that is much, much happier.

First, we don’t have to make all the airports and ports of the world as our “temples of waiting.”

We wouldn’t have to adjust to cultures that impose their superior religions and ways of life in our face while we welcome theirs (religion, food, even fashion) back home.

We wouldn’t have to deal with the schizophrenic irony of caring for other people’s children and elders while we are unable to take care of our own when needed.

We wouldn’t have to come back home with psychological disorders and matching emotional scars.

Husbands and wives wouldn't risk the temptation of adultery in foreign lands.

We wouldn’t have an epidemic of effeminate boys who grow up without a father figure.

Filipino writers and directors wouldn’t have to do films with titles like Milan, Dubai, and Caregiver.

We don’t have to lose our best doctors, nurses, caregivers, writers, newsmen, artists, theater actors, fashion designers, models, cooks/chefs/food stylists, sailors, engineers, photographers, pilots, teachers, singers, actors, computer programmers. Even maids are very hard to find in our own country now.

A world without Filipinos having to leave would be a fine, fine world where people don’t have to seen as our best export product and then euphemistically called heroes even if we didn’t intend to, because our government is given to efficiency, transparency, and accountability, not to corruption, the power of connections, and unendingly cheap politicking.

A world without Filipinos having to leave is a world where every Filipino isn’t forced to change nationalities or forced to take up nursing just because, where each Filipino is the best that he/she can be because the country's own people, gifted with many talents, have exerted all possible efforts to excel in all fields, creating for the country a well of opportunities for business and industry to anyone who is not lazy.

Lastly, it’s a wonderful world where Filipinos like Jeff dela Cruz leave only because they want to tour around their own beautiful country, which they can’t afford to see now. It’s a wonderful world where Filipinos only leave en masse as tourists to visit and enjoy other equally beautiful lands because they have the pocket money to spare. It’s a wonderful world where people are psychologically sound and they don’t have to take inner child retreats to heal their inner pains because they belong to the blessed 5% who have none.

It’s a wondrous, wondrous world where street children and beggars and food scavengers and psychotic vagrants and putrid slums are a scandal, not normal tourist attractions; where workers don’t toil for nothing; where people don’t have to fake marriages to ensnare a trophy husband no one wanted, ostensibly join the World Youth Day to be an illegal alien in Vancouver, cross borders illegally at the risk of death from Doberman bites, crowd Internet cafes to meet matches even with shady characters, join the mail-order bride industry, join illegal child trafficking, join the huge-profit porn businesses run by pedophiles, risk losing their necks or forefingers in Jeddah on trumped-up charges, risk being raped by lechers and other opportunistic bacteria abroad, invent atrocious lies to outwit the embassies of the world, sell their kidneys, sell their souls, and sell themselves short in Afghanistan, Albania, Algeria, Andorra, Angola, Antigua and Barbuda, Argentina, Armenia, Australia, Austria, Azerbaijan, Bahamas, Bahrain, Bangladesh, Barbados, Belarus, Belgium, Belize, Benin, Bhutan, Bolivia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Botswana, Brazil, Brunei, Bulgaria, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Cambodia, Cameroon, Canada, Cape Verde, Central African Republic, Chad, Chile, China, Colombia, Comoros, Congo (Brazzaville), Democratic Republic of the Congo, Costa Rica, Cote d'Ivoire, Croatia, Cuba, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Denmark, Djibouti, Dominica, Dominican Republic, East Timor, Ecuador, Egypt, El Salvador, Equatorial Guinea, Eritrea, Estonia, Ethiopia, Fiji, Finland, France, Gabon, the Gambia, Georgia, Germany, Ghana, Greece, Grenada, Guatemala, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Guyana, Haiti, Honduras, Hungary, Iceland, India, Indonesia, Iran, Iraq, Ireland, Israel, Italy, Jamaica, Japan, Jordan, Kazakhstan, Kenya, Kiribati, North Korea, South Korea, Kuwait, Kyrgyzstan, Laos, Latvia, Lebanon, Lesotho, Liberia, Libya, Liechtenstein, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Macedonia, Madagascar, Malawi, Malaysia, Maldives, Mali, Malta, Marshall Islands, Mauritania, Mauritius, Mexico, Federated States of Micronesia, Moldova, Monaco, Mongolia, Montenegro, Morocco, Mozambique, Myanmar (Burma), Namibia, Nauru, Nepal, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Nicaragua, Niger, Nigeria, Norway, Oman, Pakistan, Palau, Panama, Papua New Guinea, Paraguay, Peru, Poland, Portugal, Qatar, Romania, Russia, Rwanda, Saint Kitts and Nevis, Saint Lucia, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Samoa, San Marino, Sao Tome and Principe, Saudi Arabia, Senegal, Serbia, Seychelles, Sierra Leone, Singapore, Slovakia, Slovenia, Solomon Islands, Somalia, South Africa, Spain, Sri Lanka, Sudan, Suriname, Swaziland, Sweden, Switzerland, Syria, Taiwan, Tajikistan, Tanzania, Thailand, Togo, Tonga, Trinidad and Tobago, Tunisia, Turkey, Turkmenistan, Tuvalu, Uganda, Ukraine, the United Arab Emirates, the United Kingdom, the United States, Uruguay, Uzbekistan, Vanuatu, Vatican City, Venezuela, Vietnam, Western Sahara, Yemen, Zambia, and Zimbabwe.

Today's readings

Watermelon yields Viagra-like effects

Jihad watch:

Islam's global war against Christianity

Non-Muslims: Worse than animals

Men, finally figured out

(Filed under: Forwarded jokes)

WHY MEN ARE NEVER DEPRESSED:

Men Are Just Happier People-- What do you expect from such simple creatures? Your last name stays put. The garage is all yours. Wedding plans take care of themselves. Chocolate is just another snack. You can be President. You can never be pregnant. You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park. You can wear NO shirt to a water park. Car mechanics tell you the truth. The world is your urinal. You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky. You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt. Same work, more pay. Wrinkles add character. Wedding dress $5000. Tux rental-$100. People never stare at your chest when you're talking to them. New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet. One mood all the time.

Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat. You know stuff about tanks. A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.. You can open all your own jars. You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness. If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend.

Your underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack. Three pairs of shoes are more than enough. You almost never have strap problems in public. You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes. Everything on your face stays its original color. The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades. You only have to shave your face and neck.

You can play with toys all your life. One wallet and one pair of shoes -- one color for all seasons. You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look. You can 'do' your nails with a pocket knife. You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.

You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 in 25 minutes.

No wonder men are happier.

Square-shoed pointy toes

In the battle of ideas, there’s always a thesis that serves as the starting point. And no sooner a thesis is backed up than a perfect antithesis comes along to demolish it.

Take the case of capitalism as a serviceable –ism until it became excessive and suspect. As we all know, it was eventually challenged by the dialectical materialist idea of communism. Pretty soon the conflict escalated into the Cold War.

The Cold War has ended with the triumphant demolition of the Berlin Wall, but the divide is still upon us. Capitalism in its newfangled form, globalization, still haunts us, with the war on Iraqi oil, mass job loss behind the mass job creation, artificial food shortage due to biofuels' driven skyrocketing prices, etc. as its hungry tentacles.

But resolution is inevitable along the way. It’s the nature of all battles. Soon the conflict is resolved by a synthesis of ideas, as in Bill Gates’ idea of “social capitalism” (which isn’t even original, just better articulated perhaps). With syntheses, the world hopefully becomes a much peaceful place to live in, at least in the interregnum.

But not so in the case of square-toed pointy shoes. Square-toed pointy shoes, at first glance, seem like a good synthesis between pointy shoes (cramped, even constricting like skimpy briefs to the tremendously blessed, but serious- and smart-looking) and square-toed shoes (relaxed but too square for serious business), whose 15 minutes of fame have come and gone. The trouble is the square-toed pointy shoes resulted, not in the resolution of a conflict (enough legroom for the toes but enough clue for the guy to know what direction he is heading), but in the creation of a mutant (a clear direction of where he is heading, but under the pain of torture). A bizarre mutant, just like in the case of cross-breeding a zebra and a donkey, which results in the questionably bizarre creature, zebronkey (neither zebra nor donkey, but zebronkey), or the case of cross-pollinating the carrot with the cabbage, which is supposed to result in a plant with luscious leaves and even juicier root, but only resulted in a pot-ugly weed.

The same thing happened with the square-toed pointy shoes: an extraneous protrusion, like an elephant snout that must be excised. It’s so ugly I can countenance it only as a joke of the blackest kind.

**

I’m a fashion consultant

Aherm, I’ve realized over the years of heckling male fashion that I should be a fashion consultant and I didn’t even know it. Here’s a tentative list of the things I’ve alternately attacked and harrumphed at so far:

The faux mohawk
The deliberately exposed belt
The iguana look
The butt-ugly mullet
The bald look
Baller bands
Buddha beads
Rosary as accessory
The magnification of the Polo logo under the scanning electron microscope
Hair that's carefully engineered to look like a bird's nest
The bus conductor's clutch bag
Crocs
Wait, there must be more

From time to time, I give my nod to certain items:

Converse Chuck Taylors
Adidas tracksuit
The fedora
Etc.

Bill Gates speech

(via CVJ)

“A New Approach to Capitalism in the 21st Century”

Tony Meloto speech

(Forwarded email)

I want to be a good Catholic
By Antonio Meloto
Wednesday, July 2, 2008 Theology Class Public Lecture
Ateneo de Manila University
July 1, 2008

There is a time to speak and a time to be silent. Tonight is the first time that I will speak publicly about the upheaval that rocked Couples for Christ.

For over a year, I chose to keep quiet out of respect for long cherished friendships and refrained from adding fuel to the fire while emotions were high. What was an internal leadership transition within an organization I felt should not have been made into a public issue and prudence should have been taken not to drag the Catholic Church into the conflict. I must admit that it was tempting at times for me to speak out and defend myself but I listened to the voice within my heart that kept telling me “keep still, I will defend those who defend the poor.”

Now I understand how God shielded me by making me computer illiterate. The fight for control over CFC was being waged in the internet, while the struggle to ease human suffering was happening in the GK communities. During the most difficult moments, I went to the poor for consolation. It became clear to me that the poor are oftentimes the victim when there is conflict among leaders. When politicians fight, it is the poor who suffer. Ironically, when religious leaders fight it is also the poor who suffer, just like the CFC controversy where Gawad Kalinga became the central issue. My stand on this is clear; I will always be on the side of the poor. As a Christian, I believe that this is also the stand of Jesus. I have remained with CFC that is building the church of the poor.

As I turn the page to start a new chapter in my life, I want to make one thing clear. Contrary to allegations, I have not veered away from the Catholic Church and set aside my faith for social work. I have put my social work inside my faith.

It is my personal conviction that I am not a good Catholic if I do not love my country or if I allow my countrymen to remain poor even if I live a devout and decent life. Within our context, where 85 percent of our population profess to be Catholic, faith and patriotism must go together to address the twin sisters of underdevelopment — poverty and corruption.

Bishop Francisco Claver, SJ., comments on the reluctance before of the Church to address this issue in his new book The Making of a Local Church . “Economics, so the charge went, is outside of the Church’s competence. Not so much now. It is readily seen that if, faithful to Christ’s concern for the least of his brothers and sisters, we must feed the hungry, teach the ignorant, heal the sick, we can and must do something about the causes, not just the symptoms, of their hunger, their ignorance, their sicknesses.” When addressing corruption, which is a moral issue, the Church is also being accused by the powerful and those with vested interests, “of meddling in politics.”

Central to my being Catholic is Jesus’ love for the poor. He saw the world through their eyes. His world-view was from the bottom up. His value system was always skewed in their favor — the last shall be first, the lowest shall be raised to the highest. The challenge for me is to care for them in a manner that will help them rise to their highest potential. My piety and pity alone will not save them; the squatters need land, not alms… justice, not dole-out. Without land, they cannot build homes or produce food. Without decent homes, they have no dreams. Without dreams, they have no desire to study or work. It is terribly unchristian for Filipinos to be squatters in a country where there is so much land in the possession of a few.

One interesting issue raised about me was that I was talking too much about nation-building when I should be preaching about Kingdom-building. For me, there is no dualism: nation-building is Kingdom-building. We need to make every Filipino passionate nation builders. Our country needs more builders, not just more preachers. The Jesus of history that I know, before he became the transcendent Christ to us, was a carpenter and the builder of both a physical and a spiritual kingdom. His disciples followed his example and built the early Christian communities where believers shared their resources with one another and no one was in need. This was the inspiration to start the first Gawad Kalinga village in Bagong Silang, Caloocan City . Building sustainable GK communities is about values as well as economics. It is also about politics. It is our antidote to corruption by promoting servant leadership. Our slogan for leaders is “Una sa serbisyo, huli sa benepisyo” (First to serve, last to benefit! ).

What happened to us?

At the heart of Christianity is social justice anchored on Jesus’ love for the oppressed and the spirit of democracy is equality for all but looking at the vast social inequity in wealth and opportunity in our country clearly shows that we have been unfaithful to our core values and belief systems.

God is not about structures and rituals but about caring. Nation is not about politics but patriotism. Politics is competition for power; patriotism is giving up our lust for power, sharing our wealth and making heroic sacrifices for the weak to build our collective strength as a people.

We have not invested enough in building the church of the poor. We missed Jesus’ point of view and wisdom when he spoke about leaving family as a condition for discipleship. The poor not only deserve our attention but investing in them will catalyze economic activities, create opportunities, and build a safer environment for our children. Our greatest asset, our biggest market — the poor — are just waiting to be mentored, empowered, and harnessed as our engine for growth. The stones that were rejected will become the cornerstone for nation-building.

Knowing this, how do we face the future as Catholics in a country of immense potential but mired in poverty of spirit and body?

My personal response is simple: Gawad Kalinga — the Filipino expression of integral evangelization that seeks to build good citizenship on earth as it is in heaven. Being Catholic is my choice that demands conviction and action from me.

1. This is my anchor: faith in God, love for family, and pride in being Filipino.

2. This is my compass: Christ as the core of my conscience, my model of citizenship, and the source of commonsense. He is my navigator through controversy and conflict, the mirror to my soul, my companion and consolation.

3. I go to Church for mass and communion every Sunday but I strive daily to be in communion with the masses and those who want to see their lives improve. To many, going to church is an end. For me, being Catholic begins the moment I step out of the church.

4. To build solidarity, I am guided by Pope Benedict’s spirit of ecumenism in this country divided by religious intolerance and partisan politics. For me, Catholic fundamentalism is just as bad as fundamentalism that we deplore in other religion. Hypocrisy and bigotry in any language and form are unacceptable to me as a Catholic as they were to Jesus.

5. With all our imperfections, I am proud to be Catholic and I want to bring passion in the Church to serve God by serving the poor.

There are rumors that I am doing all of these because I will run for public office. To set the record straight, this is not my desire or calling. I value the freedom to serve more than the authority to rule. To gain freedom, I will not seek political power or personal profit from business. Real power is in not wanting it. True wealth is in not loving money but sharing it with those deprived of a dignified life due to lack of it. To be free is not to put a price tag to one’s soul.

To end, let me share with you my wish before I die. I want to see the Philippines as the first Catholic nation in Asia that will rise from third-world poverty and corruption. I will not rest until we put Fr. Damaso and Dona Victorina finally to rest.

Gone Arabic

It's but a fitting attire to grace the time, the time of extremophiles on destruction therapy (didn't say extremist). Never imagined I'd be writing a truly apocalyptic line like that, but since our idea of extremism is creative instead of destructive, we'd rather strenuously write about it in an apoplectically joyful fashion.

Yes, folks, it's that time of the year again when we are forced to heckle the pervading male fashion of the day. But this time, this non-fashionista is reduced, not to head-scratching, but to hesitant admiration. I'm referring to this ubiquitous Muslim male scarf, ubiquitous on CNN world news, that is, but now in the streets of Manila as well. I've long known it to be called Arafat's keffiyeh, but I am not aware how someone much-dreaded like Abu Sabaya takes to calling it. It's often used as a head scarf, but it's now used as the male version of the shawl, but worn in reverse fashion: still slung 'round the neck, but draped over the breast. It used to look ridiculous if you're not Muslim, but now, wow. Whatever it's actually called in Patikul, Sulu, I'm not one to deny its inherent Arabic beauty. Despite the recent Ces Drilon kidnap-for-ransom caper, it looks oddly nice on Manila's young men, especially since it's beginning to suit the weather in this increasingly globally warmed place to the point of Middle East desertification. As long as they don't pair it with a dyed goatee or square-toed pointy shoes (two of the latest crimes I've seen), they're okay. Since it's an adornment with much attitude, it can only be carried with a certain stance.

I wonder who originated this one, to the point of being sticky that things suddenly tipped to favor the unfavorable.

Destruction therapy: is this what the world needs?

Destruction therapy - Those crazy Spaniards.

Religious news: Anglican Communion splits,
1,333 clergy threaten to leave the Church of England : Issues over gay and women priests.

Charades reveals a universal sentence structure - The S-O-V sentence structure is allegedly genetic.

**

"If all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail." - Bernard Baruch