Puckering Time

Okay, just some clarifications. I went on a limbo not because I’m experiencing some kind of personal dilemma whateverthatmeans thing because if I really were maggots and all sorts of vile icky creatures would’ve been enjoying a smorgasbord by now, but you’re reading this so I would most certainly say that I can pass for normal. I just wanted a break. Specifically, a more peaceful hiatus (Blecch! Phooey! Why the hell am I using that term, anyway?) that required total chastisement, barricading my eyes from seeing my blog on a daily basis. It also entailed another deviant behavior: reading posts from my blog roll. It was a tough decision, and after much biting and chewing of cuticles and since there were exactly seven people pining for my return which I think is enough to prove that my blog is adequately intelligible, I’ve resolved to go back.

Warning: segue. My friend (the jeepney-riding companion I’ve been mentioning in my earlier posts) kept on reminding me about the state of my brain. Every time I kid around and utter statements that only a smartass can declare he promptly says without missing a beat, “Sira ulo ka talaga,” or “Loko-loko ka,” or “Adik ka.” Then again, I know myself much better than anyone else, and people don’t have to remind me about anything they’ve particularly witnessed.

There are a few contentious things, however, that hounds the hell out of me. Or was I just being too observant and critical?

Kokey

This is probably the most hideous TV show I’ve seen in my entire 19 years of existence. In case you’re one of the enlightened people who can survive without the picture tube, Kokey is all about this terribly abominable extraterrestrial of the gooley eyes that made an emergency landing on Earth because there was a trouble in its spaceship or something and the alien has to fix it and then he found a human friend who kept the alien secretly from the kibitzing neighbors – at least that’s how I understood the plot. Even in the midst of its fatal attempts at levity I don’t find this creature hilarious or anything synonymous to it. I assume that the program targets the children, and I hope the intention is not to wreak tension and emotional disturbance among the viewers although Kokey is not at all scary. The most exasperating part comes in when Kokey speaks gibberish. My jeepney-riding friend imitated the way it babbles – I found myself frothing at the mouth and I have to restrain myself from spearing him with a fork. I have actually seen the predecessor of this TV show, the original Kokey; it looked cuter and provokes less fist-clenching.

Thankfully, Eugene Domingo is there. The universe isn’t that indifferent at all.

Youngblood

I’ve always wanted to contribute a write-up for this column in the Philippine Daily Inquirer. The problem is that I have no idea what to write. Sure, you may suggest that I write about something people could actually relate themselves to, but for me it’s not easy as it seems. Each time I hear this calling to write for Youngblood I immediately heed unto this bit of voice inside my head. But not long after I’ve typed a few paragraphs it will always occur to me that this calling is nothing but ghastly hallucinations, and then I’d delete everything. I never went to finish anything for Youngblood even if I’m utterly convinced that I could finish off a write-up in just one sitting.

Then it came to me that I’m incoherent, and judging from the previous Youngblood articles I’ve read I should better assess my writing skills first. Not that I’m being pessimistic, but I think I wouldn’t even pass for a good writer.

Kim Chiu

I used to salivate after this Filipino-Chinese girl when she joined that ridiculous TV program – and a certain Blogger may attest to this – but now when I saw her hawking shampoo, cavorting mercilessly in the TV ad, I found myself deeply in shame. Never in my life have I felt like wallowing in self-pity. How could I possibly continue to yearn and sneak around her if she looks like a piece of frayed cardboard dancing and shrieking what could have been lyrical poetry to some raving fanatic of bubblegum pop songs? And then she has this song Crazy Love having lyrics that go, “Crazy love/crazy love/crazy love/crazy love” – someone put this lady in a mental asylum. I know that love causes people to do crazy stuff – catatonic stares, going on stupid weight loss regimens, slashing wrists, guzzling insecticides, sniffing toilet bowls – but coming up with a song and broadcasting it on the airwaves? To quote Mohinder Suresh from Heroes, “It sounds mad!”

There must be a better way to live.

That laundry soap ad

Every time I see this commercial it makes me more of a cynical person. The glimmering endorser of this TV ad is Ms. Solita “Winnie” Collas-Monsod, a well-renowned professor of Economics in my school, TV show host of a news and public affairs program, and columnist of the PDI. She portrays a magician kind of character wherein, instead of wands and funky smelling rabbits emerging from top hats, she uses this certain brand of laundry soap that claims to be very effective in removing stubborn dirt from garments. I don’t wash my own clothes so I cannot actually put this claim into test, but for crying out loud they got the wrong endorser!

Think about it. Although one is free to make money out of his or her career reputation, a professor slash media personage slash columnist of a reputable daily is not the proper endorser of products that reportedly slough off grisly filth like magic. We are all aware that Ms Monsod is a credible person (not because her work requires her to be one, but I think she’s very reliable nonetheless), but how are we supposed to believe in everything she will tell us if we all know for the fact that she was paid to say that it’s a capable laundry soap – even if all claims of effectiveness were held truthful? We have artists – lots of them, I must say – who can do the work for Ms Monsod without their repute being questioned.

On Havaianas

I was wearing a pair when my friend and I went to Starbucks TriNoma a week ago. Beside our table was an undiplomatic corps of human beings who made pompous comments on my tsinelas. I thought they just wanted conversation; it turned out to be a lecture on poverty, hungry kids along sidewalks just outside the mall, commercialization, blah blah blah. A member added that he sees it pointless having to buy an expensive pair of rubber slippers when there are cheaper alternatives available whereupon his other companions gave an air of approval.

Hey. Mind your own problems, people. We don’t need constant bickering of how the majority of the population feeds on barely one meal a day, how their situation is often aggravated by lack of available jobs and proper education, how we are able to come up with every politically-correct term imaginable for these lowly people – if you are so much concerned about them, you go and help them figure out what to do. I got my pair of Havaianas through savings from my allowance, and I don’t give a rat’s ass whether you say that I’m wasting my money on such superficialities. Shut up.

By the way, you said that you are against commercialization. What business are you up to inside a commercial establishment? And why the hell are you drinking a Frappuccino? And for the love of God, it’s AH-va-ya-nas, not HA.

Zero to

About the winless situation of UP in the 70^th season of the UAAP. Now it will seem too distressing to find out that the UP Men’s Basketball team hasn’t won any of its game in this season, and I don’t know what seems to be the problem. It is interesting to note that even though the men are flunking, the Women’s team is actually making its way to the top.

Some people that I’m acquainted with say that it’s a little ironic that UP – its students notorious for undisputed excellence in all possible fields – is becoming a sore loser, or make that indeed a sore loser in this certain field called sports. It doesn’t necessarily follow that if we are academically exceptional, we can also grab every trophy, medal, and all those glorious reputation in the world of basketball, particularly in the U double A P. Let me just clarify that our basketball players and the rest of the student population of UP are only humans, much to your relief, and we do have limitations. In this case, we’re simply not the best in basketball.

At least we’re not a bunch of cheats. Don’t say, “We’re Machiavellians! The end justifies the means!” Cheating is cheating, even if it has chocolate syrup in it. I would rather we lose through honest sweat and toil than to emerge victors with the aid of huge bank accounts, persuasive late night conspiratorial chit-chats with the authorities – or hypodermic syringes.

Mike allegedly clacked away to post this on Saturday, September 01, 2007 at 10:49 PM.