The greatest hoax ever sold

The greatest hoax ever sold


Sunday, 28 February 2010

How the surveys are missing the support for Teodoro boggles the mind. Online surveys, campus mock elections, youth volunteers, the groupies that attend the presidential debates are for Teodoro first and Aquino second. Some ground is shifting politically for Teodoro and the surveys have practically ruled out Teodoro as a non-contender. Were Teodoro lacking in heavyweights propping up his candidacy, which can translate this groundswell the support into real votes, we can say that all the support from the campus and online polls may just be a passing political fancy. But this is not the case as regional and provincial heavyweights have lined up behind Teodoro


The drought, the dimwits and the dead

The drought, the dimwits and the dead


Wednesday, 24 February 2010

Droughts lay siege on already wasted and marginal human lives with impunity. Beyond the parched land is a picture more compelling, the toll on humans. I can just imagine what the lumads and the other tribal groups that live off root crops and bananas year-round in their mountain settlements would eat to survive the drought.

AC Transit Bus Fight

The following video was taken last February 16, 2010 by a passenger inside a bus in Colorado. Wherein a young black guy picks up a fight with a 67 year old white dude. Watch how the old guy takes the down the black guy with a flurry of punches. Personally, the black guy deserved the beating, making the first hostile move. Raw and unedited, watch why videos with conflicting humans are one of the best videos to watch. To the 67 year old white guy – boom boom pow!

Pastor Quiboloy: A migrant’s story

Pastor Quiboloy: A migrant’s story


Sunday, 21 February 2010

Jose Quiboloy and Maria Carreon, the parents of Pastor Apollo Quiboloy, also moved to Davao from Lubao a little bit later but theirs is another story. The Quiboloys were not unlettered peasant agitators like the brother of my grandmother and several of my next of kin who were forcibly shipped to Mindanao. If Lubao had something close to a functioning intelligentsia then, the Quiboloys were part of it. They were educated. They were teachers and poets. And unlike most of Catholic Lubao, they were mainline Protestants.

This Time

This time I know where I’m going and I intend to get there.

Easier said than done, I know. Wrapped in full battle gear, I look over the horizon and estimate the path to my destination. Oh boy it’s tough, and it gets tougher after every obstacle. Over mountains and over seas, through blinding winds and treacherous valleys I set forth towards my life’s greatest journey.

This time I know I want and I’m determined to have it.

I want to live a normal life with my family. Take care of mom and dad when they grow old. Spend the weekends and holidays together and have dinner together as much as time permits. I want to have a son and a daughter who would grow up and live their own lives. I want to have a caring partner who could clear my thoughts when they become cloudy. I want flesh, more flesh.

This time my eyes are open and they see through the superficial world.

My eyes see through the overrated success money has bestowed upon people and how it can control them if they let it. They see through walls of executive offices atop skyscrapers, which none could ever come close to my home. They see past 20 inch chrome wheels bolted on a new Ford truck, my old 4D56 engine has a heart engine that is indestructible.

This time I’ll conquer my fears and they will be the one afraid of me.

I’ll conquer my own demons and instill fear on my enemies. I will not allow my insecurities stomp me silent to the ground and throw me off my axis. I’ll stop all the wallowing and self-pity I put myself into whenever failure strikes. I won’t let stress from work denude my scalp because of dandruff. I’ll have my voice heard when it needs to, to uphold a greater reason.

This time I hope I’m right.

Because if I was wrong, I would have to eat all this three hundred and thirty seven words.

Raiders of the Lost Chugs

Karen is just one among hundreds of young Filipino maids working to help support their family in far flung provinces. At first glance she exudes the aura of a typical young maid. She is shy and never fails to retort “Opo, kuya,” when replying to requests. She is a one woman army: she cleans the house, does the laundry, sometimes cook a little and etcetera. She has been staying with us for more than year now, and during this time we had no problems with her, except for this one minor concern. Karen, our typical housemaid, is a raider. XD

Eyes of a Stranger

Your restless eyes they wander and they tell me a new story. Above anything I can understand off the wall, this one confuses me. I have everything configured; suddenly your shadow appears and shatters the very foundation of my beliefs. Sounds crazy? Yes, definitely.

One more time, tell me your story like you are writing on a clean piece of paper. Let every word and every sentence, every paragraph and every chapter be coded and unfolded. Slowly coming close to your orbit, gradually becoming part of your world,  I can already hear the thunderous roars crackling in your jealous skies.

You don’t listen and that is your greatest problem. Believe it or not, there are some instances that I thought you can change the world, or grope a killer riff as sweet as sweet child of mine. I know I am expecting too much for your attention but believe me I have no cruel intentions. You are just a goth chick inside the MRT, and I am the person across.

Fan Page, Anyone?

Facebook Fan Pages

Even at my infrequent visits to Facebook, I noticed that several oddball fan pages are luring a lot of my friends into joining them. I had to admit that at first, they were nothing but ridiculous and obscure. They had no sense of value, merely resting on the whim of the author. Simple events, common occurrences, common activities, and anything common than a commoner’s routine becomes a fan page. Everything changed when I dared to click one of the fan pages and started skimming through the long list of comments. Like on YouTube, anything goes on the comment box. In your face cruel comments or killer one liner, you name it darling. It starts getting better as you read from oldest to recent comments. Honestly, I was quite entertained with the exchanged of comments. Here are some fan pages with notable exchange of comments that I tripped on.

I wouldn’t rely on this guy’s stock knowledge even if he had the last stock on earth:


Some are just plain bitter:


Funny Feeling

There are no bounds to what you can do, not when you are stuck in traffic. The stars they look at you, ready to smite you with galactic beams. Feel the rush of your emotions as powerful as the raging waves, and then run for dear life as a resulting tsunami breaks loose. Look far and look straight at the breaking of dawn, you may never see another. Your destiny unfolds right before you, and it’s another drop in the bucket. Springing in my heels, the guts in my stomach stirring a funny feeling, I knew I had too much breakfast this morning.

Sugar, We’re Going Down

Drowning in a sea of jealousy, I felt my insides swell as if my chest was about to explode. I thought it would be just the two of us.  You knew better that two’s a company and three is definitely disappointing.  As soon as I had enough, I found myself walking out the door singing:

Is this more than you bargained for yet?
Oh, don’t mind me
I’m watching you two from the closet
Wishing to be the friction in your jeans

Isn’t it messed up
How I’m just dying to be him?
I’m just a notch in your bedpost
But you’re just a line in a song
(Notch in your bedpost
But you’re just a line in a song)