VOTE! Just NOT For Him!

I generally avoid soiling my blog with Philippine politics but this is simply outrageous. Browsing through the Inquirer website, I came across this article about Presidential hopeful Joseph Estrada (oh yes…that same one who insulted our collective intelligence. The one we rallied in the streets to oust not too long ago. Why he is even allowed out to wreak havoc, don’t ask).

This blew my top off. Here are his words of wisdom, my friends. And if after mulling it over, you still haven’t figured out why we are where we are, then you need to bang your head against the wall. Seriously.

MANILA, Philippines—Of five presidential aspirants who spoke Tuesday on how they intended to address poverty, only Joseph Estrada said “jueteng” should be legalized.

The ousted President said millions of families were benefiting from the illegal numbers game and that he favored legalizing it “until the time we find alternative jobs for our people.”

“I am not tolerating it but I am for the legalization of jueteng,” said Estrada, who was convicted of plunder in 2007 for accepting jueteng kickbacks but was quickly pardoned by President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.

I’m sorry but I just need to get this out: WHAAAAAAAT….THE…HEEEEEEELLLLL?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Ok. Now I’m confused. You see, within the realm of reason when you say you do NOT tolerate something it usually means you will take drastic measures to curtail it. NOT LEGALIZE IT! And since when did jueteng become the only viable source of income? Is that your big solution? Let the country run amok because you can’t think of anything else to alleviate poverty? Nothing? Nothing else comes to mind?

How glaringly convenient is that! Seeing as he did go to jail for that very same thing and all. Something’s askew, don’t you think?

Speaking of ousted presidents, at least Marcos had the decency to have a brain. He stole our money and plunged the country into debt but he didn’t add insult to injury by being completely tactless.

If this moron wins, I’m moving to Siberia.

 

In Search Of A Humdinger Life

Exhibit A. The Human Circadian Biological Clock

Courtesy of Wikipedia

The other day, while sitting on the toilet, I felt a drop of water fall on my right knee. I thought I was imagining things so I ignored it.

Two seconds later, another drop.

And then another.

Lazily, I looked up and realized that the drops were coming straight out of the bulb socket.

I had the light on.

First grade science teaches us this simple equation: electricity + water = bad news. Instead of panicking I sat back and thought Wish the bathroom would blow up with my pants around my ankles so I don’t have to go to work.

That’s not a good sign. I’ve complained about going to work before. Who doesn’t? But praying for injury due to explosive infrastructural damage tells me I need to get a new life.

You’re wondering what this has to do with Exhibit A. It illustrates what my job has deprived me of for the past four years. I have forgotten how it feels like to have a day start with morning and end with night. On my way to work, I see people going home and I wish I had their lives. I get to the office, I run into some unmentionables and think of all the creative ways I can end theirs.

Then I put on a wry smile all to conceal the fact that I’m two stupid questions away from setting the place on fire.

Everyday I ask myself: how much are you willing to put up with for that paycheck?

When you can’t wait for your bladder to fill up just to get a two-minute escape from your desk and the people around it, I’m guessing you already know the answer to that question.

 

Hoopla!

It is a cruel, cruel irony.

Joshua Webb of DLSU played a monster game but in the end it was his foot that proved to be a detriment to their cause.

One other thing. Rabeh Al-Hussaini is in his last year of eligibilty but I’m not worried about the “MVP” graduating. He twisted his ankle in the fourth quarter but somehow the team held Fort Knox. In fact, I think we did better without  Butterfingers turning the ball over time and again. Among the long list of commentaries I ploughed through, someone said he needs a Chris Tiu to set up his game and keep his tantrums in check. I could not agree more. Now that he’s been orphaned he doesn’t seem to inspire much confidence.

Anyway, I will not go into the nuts and bolts of the game. I will leave that to the multitude of sports critics and kibitzers out there just itching to put their two cents in. Regardless of what has been or what will be said, let’s face it. There is nothing in the world that can blow our blood pressure through the roof like an Ateneo – La Salle game.

Except maybe that loss to UP. But that’s a different story.

 

And Thus Yelled Your Arteries…Let The Wild Rumpus Begin!

Here’s something I picked out of the spam that circulated the office email. Talk about honesty. At least the owners of this establishment can never be blamed for not giving their customers ample warning.

So to the people who sued McDonalds and won, try getting litigious over this:

 

 

 

 

Damage Control

For all you Zafra followers out there, Manila Envelope is currently being sold at Fully Booked for P500.00. For financial paraplegics who just heaved a collective ”Egad!!” at that price tag…I know how you feel. But think: a purchase will support the kind of magazine that we ought to have on our shelves instead of destructive literature that promote lookism and bludgeon self-esteem.

A good enough cause that in my mind is worth every centavo. This reminds me of a line from a song written by Baz Luhrmann in the late 90s. It’s called Sunscreen and these are his words of wisdom:

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Strangely enough, my deeply held anti-beauty magazine conviction was not enough to keep the contagion from my doorstep. A few months ago, I mysteriously received a free copy of Metro Magazine with Bea Alonzo wearing who-knows-what sprawled all over the cover. At first glance, it could’ve easily been written off as a postal error except for one minute detail. Front and center, the darn thing bore a libelous white sticker with my complete name and address printed in bold.

The horror!

As if that didn’t mortify me enough, they keep coming…every month. So far I have received three of these pesky, unsolicited publications which I quickly disposed of by offering them to anyone willing to take them off my hands. And mind you, the looks I got from people. There is still an ongoing debate as to whether I have finally crossed over to the dark side and turned “kikay” (and if you know me at all, that would be disturbing in so many levels, I can’t even begin to say).

If only there was a way to find out where they come from so I can unsubscribe from this elaborate prank. Or maybe I can convince these people to send me a free copy of the Manila Envelope and send the bikini-stuffer periodicals to a more willing recipient.