Unbounded

The abolishment of the bi-partisan political party system in the Philippines as a cause for national corruption

One of the whiplash that’s beginning to rub its sore red mark on our backs coming from the oust of the Marcos regime is the abolishment of the bi-partisan political party system here in the Philippines. It was revised in the 1987 constitution during the Aquino administration into a multi-partisan one.

This, at least from this writer’s perspective, was an unforeseen err then that is being taken advantage upon by today’s politicians. And with about two or three “generations” of administrations, political opportunism has indeed seeded and is now bearing its rotten fruit.

Ladies and gentlemen, need you be reminded that we are now perceived in the international community as the most corrupt country in Asia? This wouldn’t have exploded, or actually, initially imploded, as you will see later why, into such if not for a stricter hold for the reins of political party systems here in our country.

Were the lawmakers then too afraid to have another Presidential Decree for militarization of the country that they made this change (and other subsequent changes like limiting presidential veto powers, which are irrelevant to the topic at hand)? I would like to think so.

Yet, people then and now are still grounded on the belief that the reason why power was, is, and will be abused is because there is no proper check and balance being implemented as far as political party influence is concerned. It is true, to an extent.

It is unnecessary to bar the principal ideology of having two opposing parties, where the possibility of one party completely dominating over the other, and thus, tyranny, because the problem doesn’t lie with the party, but really with its constituents.

The strongest suit of having a two party system is with its check and balance, and benchmarking. The minority party (here defined as the party who has gained minority influence in an administration) will always give a keen eye to the dominant party’s every actions.

This permeates not only to strength of political ideology, but also to the quality of candidates.

These two, conversely, are the weakest attributes of having a multi-party system. Like milking a herd of thin cows, resources are distributed too thinly to the parties. Political ideologies of the parties differ too much that they really don’t pose a significant challenge to forward the nation, and weak (more so, ill qualified) candidates who are party driven and not platform driven.

Having numerous split party systems is also akin metaphorically to the old pre-colonial tribal balanggays. These little communities fail to realize that progress is ultimately greater when they unify and form one large community-city. And for that similar reason, it is better to take care of only a number of fat, healthy cows, as their milk will be more nutritious and more valuable.

Ask yourself these questions the next time you think about your slate of senatoriables:

-From what party/coalition is this candidate from?
-What are the platforms of this candidate?
-What are the ideology/ies of his/her party/coalition?
-How aligned are they?
-How are the ideology/ies of this particular party/coalition different from other parties/coalitions?

The quality of a candidate is generally dependent on the strength of his party (this goes under the assumption that a candidate aligns himself with the party’s ideologies, and he does not join simply to gain block votes). With the emergence of pragmatic nonsense political parties, which serve no purpose but merely as a timely coalition to gain an identity, and more of, block votes, the integrity and values of the party, and worse, the candidates that they fare, are severely sacrificed.

This will never happen in a bi-partisan party system as one party could not and will not afford to loose a candidate to the other party’s.

It is saddening to realize that the Nacionalista Party and the Liberal Party are pathetic compared to the same Titan and Olympian of parties then. The thought of the Liberal Party fragmenting into two wings, where one wing coexists merrily with the Nacionalista Party, and both parties belonging into a bigger coalition group with no real political standpoint other than being the incumbent and the opposition, is really disheartening.

Shit happens.

Here’s a second half complement to a previous entry written a couple of weeks ago relating to an assortment of excrementious irony (a word I invented, heh). Whereas the previous post pricked on an hodgepodge of national events, this time around, I’ll be talking about the small nuggets that poop (pop) out of my daily life.

Annals.

Talk about hitting the fan. This coming Monday, I’ll be seeing the X’s in highschool, the Y’s in college, and the Z’s (Hmm. I guess in college as well) all at the same time in one floor, for the rest of my stay. The challenge is how I’ll be able to put everything into equation as these variables are mutually exclusive to one another.

Oh, I think I’ll be putting my feet literally on a minefield here, heh.

xxx

Stool.

Don’t you get this constipated feeling of wanting to release all tensions (insert double entrede here) when you get the feeling that you’re getting pulled down by a needy, self-righteous, condescending Tae-nean? (I apologize for the term. I’ll be using that only once and only once in reference to that tool)

The minute you attend to its constant whining and whims, oh boy, you’re doomed. It’ll cling and linger on you like, well, poop and flies. Bad juju’s such as these need to be flushed.

xxx

Vowels.

Alas, we’ve talked too much about vowels.

“Dryly, gypsy slyly spryly tryst my YM.
Why? Shy spy by thy crypt, by my glyph.
My try pry thy sylph’s psych.
Tsk, tsk, wry.”

This is in response to a query about someone who sent me an angry private message a couple of weeks ago. The only way one could search on that particular entry is by 1.) Reading individual posts up to that entry date, or 2.)Googling your name. Oh vanity.

If you’re interested to know who that person is, here are clues: 1.) this second-part post goes with a larger central theme, that of excrement and irony 2.)By the wordplay of this heading and text, you’ll have a definite idea of who that person is by virtue of attribution, and 3.) It’s written in such a way so as that person can’t google his/her name in this blog again.

xxx

My aunt Carolyn (and Jim’s dentist) got married just this Sunday at Sanctuario de San Jose in Greenhills. It was a surprisingly fine event to be cherished since it was a union and re-union of sorts as well.

I was reluctant to attend at first after realizing when I woke up that I literally didn’t had time to sleep / rest until Tuesday afternoon (so much things to do), and that preconceived expectations (and embarrassingly, wishful thinkings) about weddings and receptions are much better left of when I get older, say about 28, because there are things in life that are more apt to be planned and articulated by your life partner (hence the embarrassment in admitting), but heck, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. It’s one of my favorite aunt’s day. Besides, the whole clan (apart from my family) would never forgive me for the non-appearance.

I’m particularly elated as I’m typing this after seeing the intricate wood carvings that bordered the huge central cross of the church. And together with the stained glass and the whole clan of both the bride and the groom eagerly waiting for the presiding priest to utter the most cliché of lines, such expression of man of his love for life, for his Creator, and on an even more abstract level of meaning, for love itself, are never more exemplified in poignancy than that.

Sweet.

It is also interesting to mention that the opening invocation during the reception in EDSA Shangri-La was delivered by no one other else than Reverend Pastor Vicente Sia! Yes, it's our own highschool head chaplain, Mrs. Sia’s horny husband, and our Math teacher Mrs. Yao’s older brother. Our Boksu.

At that very moment, I was filled with nostalgic pride as I wanted to boast to everyone that that person over there shares his roots with mine, that we came from same institution (well, I studied there and attended weekly chapel hours and masses, while he literally lives there). Of how he is connected to the groom, I can only guess.

Another event that caught me vulnerably smiling was how lighthearted my aunt was, during the wedding reception. She feigned drunkenness and fainting after she and her husband drunk their ceremonial champagne together. It’s such a cute sight to witness that one can still maintain her jesting even when everyone’s eyes are gaily fixated at the couple’s every move. The same could however, not be said for the terrible emcee.

Such a lovely, witty, and free-spirited personality. The thought alone of spending the rest of your life with that kind of bliss makes one want to live the next day, and the day after that, until the faithful day arrives where he finally meets her.

Sweet.

That night, I realized that one’s life ultimately comes into full circle, and it’s the meaning that you make out of each step, each single passing moment is what really counts. They, who have been children before, who have been in my age and position, who have experienced frustrations on where their careers would lead them, who have restless thoughts at the back of their heads on how their future significant others would be like, are now transitioning into position of care-giving. Aging matriarchs now take the position of then held by the patriarchs of the clan. Contemplative thoughts about how they have lived their lives must come across as they sit and watch their children becoming parents, their kin becoming brides, and their grandchildren becoming ladies.

And returning to where it started, as an allusion of how everything comes into full circle, and of how the simplest, tiniest of things could ever mean so much. My aunt, now Carolyn Geronimo Torres-Basa, the dentist, is really nicknamed “Sweet”.

My young naiveté cousin Jennifer would laugh at the irony of it; I would smile as it alludes her love for her husband; my auntie-lola would nod to the thought that that word meant life.

Sweet.

A previous entry entitled “The perfect face” written about a year ago was able to qualify one’s aesthetic value using the Fibonacci sequence (that of 1.618), then made into a facial template of pentagonal increments. Painstaking comparisons have established that the perfect face, one whose face matched the template with immaculate similarity belonged to 1.) Tom Cruise, and not surprisingly, (but more importantly) 2.) Mark Eugene Ong.

Convincing as it is, this aesthetic value is but an incomplete portrait of benchmarking the one whom the Lord bequeathed to all of us - for all women to worship, and for all men to envy. Cultural limits meant that Mark Eugene Ong has to be used as our model to derive at our formulaic derivation for one’s value (for societal standing), dubbed the E value – the Eros value. This then, is an apt complement the subjective visual perception congruence of one’s aesthetic value.

Thus, the aim of this entry is to be able to quantify how one could be like Mark Eugene Ong.

Consider the following:

Value = Status
Status = Skills + Relationship + Power
Value = Skills + Relationship + Power

The simplest representation of the E Value is Skills + Relationship + Power. The greater these three factors, the greater one’s E value is, and conversely, the smaller it is, or one is found to be lacking, one’s E value is drastically lesser. Therefore, it is imperative that one should develop a holistic growth of these three factors. Kudos, Eug.

Skills = [s]
[s] = basketball [b] + DoTA [d] + Weights [w]
[s] = b + d + w

To be able to successfully compute one third of the E value, one must take into consideration the factors that make up Eugene’s skills (at least to common intuition / perceptive congruence by men, women, and gays alike), and these were identified as skills in basketball, skills in DoTA, and lifting weights.

Skills

We derive at computing each of the skill subfactors:

[b] = [points + rebounds + assists – fouls + # Nike ballers worn + (female fans x 2) – Male fans – (gay fans x 2)] / 8
[d] = [(kills / min) / (clicks / min) / time spent gaming]
[w] = [benchppress weight x Actual weight / (# female oglers - # spotter - # gay oglers)2]

[s] = {[b] + [d] + [w] x 100%} / 3

Basketball can only be described as the real man’s sport. What kind of sport would not be a more definitive representation of manhood by having a clash of sweaty, testosterone-laden men drive a single ball into a basket?

Weights in its strictest sense, and that of a heterosexual meaning is that it is the absolute necessity for homophobic men to repress their thoughts of themselves on the possibility of being homosexual by needlessly and repetitively lifting heavy slabs of metal for hours on end, in the hopes that male hormones would cloud their impure thoughts. A trip to the shower and seeing other nude men however, would be an attempt in vain since this will trigger the thought of their spotters' crotches.

Finally DoTA. Well, not much can be said about it, since the fear of being assaulted by desperately loveless geeks out there using their keyboards and mouse (as a bludgeoning and as a flail instrument) from bashing the sport, nay, art, would arise. Monster kill.

Relationship

Formula for computing the relationship factor:

[r] = [(# women x # women in public knowledge / 2) - # commitment] / 3

# Women = [l]
# Women in public knowledge [k]
# Commitment = [c]

[r] = {[w] + [l] / 2} – c / 3

It is common knowledge that Eugene has four women, namely ____, _____, _____, and _____ (individual names are hidden for security purposes. Other women who will know their real names will grow envious, and this will ultimately lead to unnecessary violence). And all of these are known to the public, but Eugene has not committed to any of these four dyesebels for the sole reason that if he commits to any one of them, his bachelor’s value will significantly decrease to nil. This is basic relationship economics.

So, this God-given Ozymandias is both a blessing and a curse. He is the dream of all women and envy of all men, yet he cannot commit. He can love, but cannot fall in love. Such selflessness, such dedication to his divine purpose.

Power

The formula for the power factor follows:

[p] = (∑ p / 3) / 3

Summation of scores of power subfactors. In Eugene’s case, these were identified to be 1.) Working in a Multinational Fast Moving Consumer Group company (Proctor and Gamble), 2.) Owning a blue Toyota Vios, and 3.) Owning a decrepit 3G Phone.

A tabular matrix list was initially made to rate status symbols, and the three mentioned were the top three possessions to be considered. Not surprisingly, these three each scored a 100.

Behold. The formula for perfection:

[link]

*Reliability and validity of neither the formulaic derivation nor the units were considered. These are mere faux derivations, since to attempt to quantify the true E value, that of Eugene Ong’s, is really infinite.

Good evening, my dirty little city. It’s Wednesday again. Tonight, we’ll talk about shit that makes us jaded and cynical. Literally.

Hot damn.

March is fire prevention month here in the Philippines. To raise everyone’s awareness, and coincidentally, to give a whole new meaning to irony, a massive uncontrollable conflagration charred more than five hundred (that’s 500!) shanty homes in a Pasay City slum area last night.

Firefighters struggled overnight vainly attempting to douse the fire. It would have been a synch, considering that collaborative effort from the Binondo volunteer firefighters, and the media hyped techno-savvy Makati firefighter brigade are virtually neighbors to each other, but they had trouble smothering the heart of the heat since the shanties were so convoluted that the tankers couldn’t pass through. What the brave men did instead was to connect the ends of their hoses into one massive pressure hose, hoping that the water pressure from the hydrants would be enough to pump water forty feet.

And the most heartwarming sight? Tuning on the TV and seeing the townspeople helping each other, doing selfless bayanihan by passing pails of sewage sludge-water, freshly (if the term is apt) scooped from the underground septic tank.

Priceless.

xxx

Two poo

Here’s a lovely thought:

If the water in your toilet drains clockwise on the northern hemisphere and drains counter-clockwise in the southern hemisphere, what happens along the equator? Will it explode and spill excrement all over the bathroom?

xxx

Turd

Finally, in line with the theme for tonight, news has it again that our people’s champion has again decided that he will fight for the South Cotabato congress seat.

Not much can be said about the announcement (since it isn’t him who’s actually blurting them, and it wouldn’t be much of a surprise that he will be having an official spokesperson / scripted spiel), but one thing’s for sure, this dilly-dallying is not his decision, but rather, from the people behind his curtains.

Was that a hit below the belt?

Apparently, the impromptu proxy highschool equivalency examinations he took a couple of weeks ago wasn’t enough of a validation for the masses to be convinced that their champion has enough of a mental capacity, much more, political maturity, to serve as a legislator.

Everything would have been knock-out easy for everyone to comprehend on what the boxer wanted to convey if he just instead wore horn-rimmed glasses and stuck a fountain pen up his temple. Now, everybody thinks he’s ridiculous.

If one would take the time to piece together the individual events that lead up to the initial decision (or indecision) that he withdrew, it was when he went to Boom-boom’s bout in Cebu, together with Team Unity bet Chavit Singson and Liberal Party partisan Lito Atienza, and was unanimously booed and heckled by the fans.

Now ask yourself, who really pulls the punches?

xxx

[For the lack of a better journal entry, I'd chosen to put up a copy of my paper on Watson. This also serves as a backup in case I lost it, heh]

Michael Glenn A. Kho
10689818

Conditioned Emotional Reactions
John B. Watson and Rosalie Rayner (1920). First published in Journal of Experimental Psychology, 3(1), 1-14.


1.0 Summary

One of the most controversial experiments in Psychology was performed by John Watson and his associate (and in turn, mistress) Rosalie Raymer. This particular journal is the actual account and first publication of the behavioral modification experiment, involving an eleven month old infant named Little Albert.

In a manner similar to Ivan Pavlov’s initial classical conditioning experiment regarding conditioned responses in dogs on salivation and food anticipation, conditioned reactions were established as well on little Albert, but particular observations on emotion, namely fear, was achieved. Thus, the research objective of Watson was to experimentally condition Little Albert to associate white rats (and on further associations, with anything white and furry), with to the loud clanging sound of metal, on which he was terribly afraid of.

1.1 Neutral Stimulus

As recorded by Watson, Little Albert was initially presented with a white rat where he elicited no response of fear. Watson was even keen on reporting that Little Albert leaned forward to it, as a behavioral cue for interest, and proceeds on playing with it. On a different testing session, the loud clanging sound of metal was suddenly presented to Little Albert. He was violently startled by it and naturally cried. Sessions were repeated to establish neutral stimuli.

1.2 Conditioning

Watson then proceeds by associating the loud clanging sound with the white rat. Intermittent sessions where the rat was presented alone, the clanging metal sound was presented alone, and the paired presentation was done until Little Albert elicited the expected fear response of crying when the white rat was presented alone. This lone presentation was repeated a further number of times for reliability purposes.

1.3 Transformation, et. al.

Finally, Watson extended Little Albert’s fear of white rats to other objects by association. He presented various objects, some for the purpose of neutral stimuli (e.g. Blocks), and other, of the intended association (e.g. White rabbit, white wool, and later on, a Santa Claus mask). Little Albert associated anything white and furry with the white rat, and of course, of the loud startling clanging of metals. With all these conditioned stimuli, Watson noted that Little Albert’s response varied from whimpering, avoidance, to crying. Despite the variation, it was certain that all these elicited responses were responses of fear.

2.0 Reaction

With the general public’s ethical clamor and criticism at Watson’s time on his prior experiments on rats over his experiment with Little Albert is unfathomable. He received greater criticism by animal rights group on his particular 1907 study regarding the kinesthetic and organic reactions of white rats on mazes.

2.1 Neutral Stimulus

Watson found it necessary that no extraneous variables (unnecessary associations) be confounded to the white rat and loud sound stimuli. Isolation of the said stimuli and specific responses to each of them can only be achieved in a controlled environment.

Applying a little developmental psychology to the matter, an infant of eleven months still do not have the mental development and thus cognition, to naturally fear a white rat. He innocently sees it as a neutral stimulus, an object for exploration, a plaything.

Similarly, any loud violent sound will naturally elicit a startling response to an infant. And an infant, who still cannot articulate these stimuli, would naturally regress into crying, a manifestation of fear over something unknown.

2.2 Conditioning

Through following the principles of classical conditioning by the Russian Physiologist Ivan Pavlov, John Watson and Rosalie Raymer were able to condition a child to fear another distinctive stimulus which normally would not be feared by a child.

Care must be considered in endeavoring over behavioral experiments involving humans. It could border on unethical human research. And on Watson’s Little Albert Experiments, clearly, American ethical standards on human rights were not firm then.

Despite the controversy, it was still necessary, at least from a historical perspective that a research such as this is done, because it elevated the discipline of psychology to a hard science, and paved way for new inquiries about how the human mind works.

2.3 Transformation, et. al.

Undoubtedly, this has to be radical behaviorism at its finest. An eleven month old infant, whom many people would agree to it being a blank slate, was unethically conditioned to be afraid of white rats, and anything white and furry - a solid proof on the influence of nurture in one’s behavior.

3.0 Impact

Patterned after the hard sciences (biology, chemistry, physics, etc.), Behaviorism’s ally was observation, experimentation, and ultimately, empiricism. This was a particular thrust by psychologists at their time to delineate psychology from philosophy, and to elevate its status from a soft science, to a hard one.

Studying behavior is such a deep, complicated, yet interesting field. An experimental research was done by Kho, et. al. (2004), on the colonial mentality on food preference among Filipino highschool students.

The participants were asked to sample varieties of food, consisting of two types per item, a local and an imported brand of the same category of food, i.e. corned beef, crackers, cookies. One group received the food samples bearing its real local and imported brand names, while the other group, received the food samples with switched brand name presented as: local product with imported brand name, and imported product with local brand name. Results showed Filipino adolescents indeed tend to prefer imported over local brands on the basis of brand names.

From the results of this research, it could be hypothesized that Filipino adolescents are conditioned to prefer imported brands because of the association of quality, prestige, and social status attachments of imported products particularly that of American branded foods.

So, with empiricism to back behaviorism, it further established this second force into a major discipline in Psychology for the years to come.

Let me begin by sharing one of my favorite quotes to you, so as to set the tone of what we will be talking about in the following paragraphs. This comes from Henry Louis Mencken (Hmmm Louis. Sounds like a black man’s name), one of the foremost American satirist in the early twentieth century. Try to read his biting (albeit at times annoying) witticisms if you have the time. Well, it’s no Mark Twain when it comes to literary tickling, but it’s just as equal, if not more, on impact in his niche, that of social critique.

"The most dangerous man, to any government, is the man who is able to think things out for himself, without regard to the prevailing superstitions and taboos. Almost inevitably he comes to the conclusion that the government he lives under is dishonest, insane and intolerable, and so, if he is romantic, he
tries to change it. And even if he is not romantic personally he is very apt to spread discontent among those who are."

-H.L. Mencken
Smart Set
Magazine
December 1919

If there’s one graphic novel that I wouldn’t mind reading over and over again (well, apart from Gaiman’s Sandman, and Strazynski’s Rising Stars), it has to be Ellis’ Transmetropolitan. It’s set on a cyberpunk dystopian America where allusions about American and British politics in the past decade are well abound. Each time I flip through it, I learn a new opening, a new perspective, a new level of meaning. Anywho, I took the preceding quote above from the said novel.

Segue.

There’s a song that’s been playing in the airwaves and making a positive stir as of late - for its pulse-rising beat, quality, and most importantly, its poignant socio-political relevance.
Do not take this negatively if you’re a rabid fan of Cueshe, Hale, Protein Shake, or what other sprouting alternative rock band I forgot to mention, but I’m observing a hyperbolic decline in the local music industry’s lyric quality - hence, the countless mind-numbing remakes and bossa nova raping. Oh, you don’t believe me? Try visiting the local music store and see the collections if you wouldn’t mind stopping your music piracy for a second.

Of course, not all remake CD’s are fated to be drink coasters. There are still jewels in the mainstream ocean of retarded music gunk. Yup, I’m talking about Bamboo’s remake of Tatsulok.

Segue.

The following text is taken from Renato Reyes Jr.’s blog (http://natoreyes.wordpress.com):

“[…]Originally, the song Tatsulok was part of Buklod’s second album of the same title. The song deals with militarization in the countryside, and the root of the armed conflict in the country. It was released at the time of the Total War policy of then president Corazon Aquino. The Total War policy then, as is with the “all-out war” policy of current president Arroyo, intended to crush the insurgency. But instead of defeating the armed revolutionary movement in the countryside, the militarization campaign’s first casualties were civilians.

Totoy bilisan mo, bilisan mo ang takbo
Ilagan ang mga bombang nakatutok sa ulo mo
Totoy tumalon ka, dumapa kung kailangan
At baka tamaan pa ng mga balang ligaw

At the time of the song, memories of anti-communist vigilante groups were still fresh in the minds of the people, especially with the rise of such infamous groups as the Alsa Masa and other “death squads” tolerated by the Aquino administration and the militarists in the regime.

Totoy makinig ka, wag kang magpa-gabi
Baka mapagkamalan ka’t humandusay dyan sa tabi
Totoy alam mo ba kung ano ang puno’t dulo
Ng di matapos-tapos na kaguluhang ito

Quite interestingly, the same incidents of death squads have come to the fore again with the rise of extrajudicial killings under the Arroyo regime. Those killed have been conveniently called “NPA supporters”.

Hindi pula’t dilaw tunay na magkalaban
Ang kulay at tatak ay di syang dahilan
Hangga’t marami ang lugmok sa kahirapan
At ang hustisya ay para lang sa mayaman
[Chorus]
Habang may tatsulok at sila ang nasa tuktok
Di matatapos itong gulo
Lumilikas ang hininga ng kayraming mga tao
At ang dating munting bukid, ngayo’y sementeryo
Totoy kumilos ka, baliktarin ang tatsulok
Katulad mong mga dukha, ilagay mo sa tuktok

In the end, the song tells us that the armed conflict is not just about fighting between the NPA and the Aquino regime at that time (pula’t dilaw). The root causes of the fighting are poverty, the social pyramid.

The song is tight, lyrically and musically. Hands down, it is one of the best songs by Buklod […]

I only hope that the impact transcends the traditional rock song airplay-sales-awards cycle. I do hope the song raises questions about how things are being run in the country today. Tatsulok does not mince words in describing society and the justice system. It is straightforward in “sticking it to the Man”.

Bamboo does an excellent job in covering the song, though I personally feel that the intro sounded too much like the intro of Hallelujah. One misses the original Buklod strumming and flute background. The vocals are great and invoke strong emotions and are almost like the subdued anger of the original Buklod. The percussions seem to be holding back, unlike the guitar riffs which are let loose, almost like in a fit of rage.

The remake of Tatsulok raises the bar in socio-political songwriting and performances for this generation’s rockers. A trail has been blazed anew for the current crop of bands and singers. This is no longer uncharted territory for mainstream acts. […]”

Segue.

Here’s another, this time, taken from Maria Clara Rowena (http://mariaclararowena.spaces.live.com):

“[…] Mistakenly, the Philippine government has equated leftists to communists, to rebels, to armed insurgents, to terrorists and used the naming to go all-out. This […] shattered my faith in the Arroyo administration. Naming also justified Bush's exercise of his self-declared right to destroy Iraq and the Iraqis whom he has labeled terrorists. Yellow, on the other hand, is for the liberals. Since 1986, yellow has been the colour of the country's democratic reborn; this, after EDSA I championed PEOPLE POWER.

[…] In the song TATSULOK, the triangle is a socio-political structure where the strong and influential is above the law. The word ‘mayaman’ (rich) should not be taken literally as it is unreasonable to denounce all rich people. The song, particularly, denounces politicians who have become rich by succumbing to public offices they have failed to uphold and others who defy the imperatives of justice. Graft and corruption, partisan politics-- name it, we had it, we have it.
Ours is a country where a congressman admits he could have voted ‘No’ for Con-Ass but has voted otherwise because his political party wills it. Ours is a country where a former President charged with plunder has the nerve to dictate who are those politicians we should vote for. Ours is a country where a military general bound to protect the Filipino people says ‘sorry na lang’ when asked what if innocent people get caught in the crossfire [what the hell happened to the art of double-speak as a means of deception?]. Ours is a country where actors, boxers, basketball players are wooed to run not because of capability to serve the country but because of popularity.

The message of the song is clear to every Filipino especially to those who have the chance to vote this coming elections-- that is to choose our leaders. I don't personally like cliches but yes, I should say, ‘choose wisely.’ […]”

Segue.

Parallelisms can be drawn between the socio-political state a decade ago, to the incumbent regime (http://misteryosa.com):

“The release of the song might be very timely because of the upcoming elections, but look beyond that. Rampant political killings. Social injustice. […] ‘Oplan Bantay Laya,’ which is said to be the president’s ‘all-out war against the terrorists’ - the term terrorists used loosely because it surprisingly includes journalists, and people and students from legal leftist organizations, and even civilians. The song is not timely just because of the elections; it’s timely because everything happens right here, right now.” [The catch-all anti-terrorism bill will be signed within the week by the president and hence be enacted as a law. Aren’t you just a bit interested to peep at its contents and by-lines?]

Segue.

Since his first album, the band has been very vocal about issues concerning the government and its people Take Mr. Clay for instance. It’s an expression of disgust over the US-Iraq war, and Alpha, Beta, Omega, of the local socio-political conditions (http://bamboo.com.ph).

To summarize, I think all the plagiarism here today has said volumes. This morning, all I want is to share with you the private truth, and hope that I’ll be able to elevate everyone’s consciousness a tad bit higher.

Let it consume you.

It is always startling when the Lord takes away one of our young, so unexpectedly. Such word, youth, attaches with it a myriad of perspective: that of age, of vigor, and of innocence. And we, so stubborn of a creation, fail to celebrate the appreciation and recognition that it rightfully yearns.

I stand here today, deeply saddened by the death of one such youth.

Not a day goes by from that faithful incident, two moons past, that he failed to look back on his two neighbors.

Two nymphs, with only a wall separating him from them, lived in a unit with unbearable darkness. Their place was unlike any other for their aunt, who lived right across them, denied them the convenience of light. Each day, the two, like us of our ages when we were then endearingly naïve, would attend to their usual requirements in their institutions of learning. And each night, the two, whom he could only assume, wings folded, and heads shamefully bowed, would have to regretfully return to the enveloping shade.

Never before has he seen so much virtue, exuded by these two when he sighted them, and each evening then, studying, diligently, using the dim hallway fluorescent lights.

Nothing but the dim hallway fluorescent lights.

And with that sight, his cheek, like a cold glass of bitter ale, trickled, with two glass beads.

So here I am again, standing, this time waiting for my door to be opened, mesmerized as to how a simple dimly lit hallway fluorescent light could radiate so much meaning, rouse one’s sentiment, and inspired by their pursuit of knowledge, is deeply saddened by the death of that such youth, for he never valued his blessings so much more until then.

Two glass beads each night could never repay that youth’s passion lost for infinite lifetimes.

I’m sick and tired of the entire media attention hullabaloo over one of our national hero’s pompous daughter, her obviously guilty ball-trotting statue husband (the couple reminds me of another batch couple with similar quirks), and the faceless third party who names herself after some cheap ass cigarette.

Now, I don’t want to sound like a complete acerbic dick, but missy here just choked on a mouthful of adulterous karma. Let’s see her verbally mangle herself out of this one.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is what you get when you act like a self-righteous, self-centered, brainless brat who spiels nothing but shame, not only to yourself, but also to your husband, to your former lovers, where one sired you an autistic retard as a reminder of your genetic aberration to a great line of intellectual gods, and another one gave you venereal disease, and ultimately, to your family, and to your dead father.

If anyone in this shithole city gave didn’t give two tugs of a dead dog's cock about this issue, they should make a Belo commission by now, composed of volunteers from an independent body (say, an all star committee composed of a dignitary from the department of agriculture, Dindo Pumaren, and a widowed executive directress) to survey the area for protein stains and what nots.

THAT is how absurd and crow-pecked this issue has been.

..GOD DAMN IT!! I'm not watching local telly for as long as I can, except when Darlene Custodio's on.

Good evening my dirty little city.

I want you to meet someone:

[link]

Her name is Ashley X, and she is the little girl who will never grow up. Read on.

The following excerpts are taken from [link]

…Three years ago, when Ashley began to display early signs of puberty, her parents instructed doctors to remove her uterus, appendix and still-forming breasts, then treat her with high doses of estrogen to stunt her growth. In other words, Ashley was sterilized and frozen in time, for ever to remain a child. She was only 6…

…Afflicted with a severe brain impairment known as static encephalopathy, she cannot walk, talk, keep her head up in bed or even swallow food. Her parents argued that “keeping her small” was the best way to improve the quality of her life, not to make life more convenient for them….

…By remaining a child, they say, Ashley will have a better chance of avoiding everything from bed sores to pneumonia — and the removal of her uterus means that she will never have a menstrual cycle or risk developing uterine cancer.

Because Ashley was expected to have a large chest size, her parents say that removing her breast buds, including the milk glands (while keeping the nipples intact), will save her further discomfort while avoiding fibrocystic growth and breast cancer.

They also feared that large breasts could put Ashley at risk of sexual assault.

The case was approved by the hospital’s ethics committee in 2004, which agreed that because Ashley could never reproduce voluntarily she was not being subjected to forced sterilization, a form of racial cleansing promoted in the 1920s and known as eugenics. However, the case of Ashley X was not made public, and, as a result, no legal challenges were ever made.

Ashley’s doctors, Daniel Gunther and Douglas Diekema, wrote in their paper for the October issue of the Archives of Pediatrics and Adolescent Medicine that the treatment would “remove one of the major obstacles to family care and might extend the time that parents with the ability, resources and inclination to care for their child at home might be able to do so”.

The paper inspired hundreds of postings on the internet: many supportive, others furious. “I find this offensive if not perverse,” read one. “Truly a milestone in our convenience-minded society.”

It was the critical comments that finally provoked Ashley’s father to respond.

While remaining anonymous, he posted a remarkable 9,000-word blog entry at 11pm on New Year’s Day, justifying his decision.

The posting includes links to photographs of Ashley, in which the faces of other family members, including Ashley’s younger sister and brother, have been blanked out. “Some question how God might view this treatment,” he wrote. “The God we know wants Ashley to have a good quality of life and wants her parents to be diligent about using every resource at their disposal . . . to maximize her quality of life.” …

…The medical profession is divided. “I think most people, when they hear of this, would say this is just plain wrong,” wrote Jeffrey Brosco, of the University of Miami, in an editorial. “But it is a complicated story . . . (But) high-dose estrogen therapy to prevent out-of-home placement simply creates a new Sophie’s Choice for parents to confront…

…George Dvorsky, a director of the Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies, countered: “If the concern has something to do with the girl’s dignity being violated, then I have to protest by arguing that the girl lacks the cognitive capacity to experience any sense of indignity.”

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Stop for five minutes and think about this one for a second. Try to deconstruct your meaning of living.

What makes it ultimately worth living for? What is it ultimately, singularly about? Is it about how long you live?

Imagine seeing yourself fifty years from now. You’re sitting on your recliner, with a knitted quilt spread above your lap; to keep the warmth in. your spouse is dead. You’re sitting with your grandchildren, and you’re suffering from Alzheimer’s and tuberculosis.

Now, is it all about the good experiences?

Like the time when you won your first golf tournament? You, so euphoric, so elated by experiencing the best experience that you can conceive in your short life here on earth, that you wouldn’t want anything else. You wouldn’t mind being taken away by the One Above. You leave your family and all your other love ones in that blink of an instant that you thought about it.

Is it all about the bad experiences? - The ones that make your throat dry, that make you turn pale, yet you wouldn’t want to forget about them because these are the experiences that make you stronger?

Take a look at Ashley again. She’s nine years old and suffers from static encephalopathy. She has the mental cognition of a three-month old. Her budding mammary glands, appendix, uterus all have been removed, and she’s been injected with estrogen to prevent not only her secondary sexual characteristics to develop but, to stop her overall growth entirely and remain small.

Life. Living. It’s an indissectible amalgam irony of good and bad experiences; and in the end, of one’s understanding and meaning making - much like Gestalt.

So, would you consider this as a pharmacological solution for her parents’ social failure?

_____

My take on this is that you can’t oversimplify such a complex definition that varies from each person’s point of view and capacity of comprehension.

Still, there has to be limits on pervasive medical and pharmacological procedures as not all recipients are aware, much less understand its implications, to resist. By saying that you aim to make one’s life worth living by denying her the experience of growth, discomfort, of pain, and of suffering, is equitable to denying that person a full life.

Taking this concept to a more abstract level that it is now, I embrace the thought that I am imperfect. That say, that I have a scar on my right knee, that I have poor vision, that I once had a malignant tumor, that I’m sometimes cynical, to the point of acerbic. It’s what makes me me.

If everything in our existence is perfect, it would loose its value.

Yes, she will have a better quality of life, I’m not arguing against that. It’s that she won’t have a full life in her context that she could experience meaningfully.

Enjoying this? You like the way I describe shit and the numbing truth to people you would have probably walked past in the street last week?

Good. You earned it. With your silence.

_____

I’d like to end this one with an open note for your inputs, and a personal quote:

“What meaning is there to exist when the poor has no one to look up to and for the rich to look down to? When all dreams are real and when all efforts come in vain?

How can joy exist without sorrow? It’s unrealistic and absurd for a perpetually happy world for after a while, it would cease to be happy; it would be boring.

Contrasts and limitations are thus necessary for anything to be considered valuable.”