Thank You, Ninoy.

My Hero

Thanks to Ninoy and GMA’s proclamation declaring his death anniversary a non-working holiday, we got a long weekend, which unfortunately ends today.

In class, I made a small litany for the events that led to this small mercy.

Salamat, Ninoy, sa inyong pagkabayani.

Salamat Tita Cory, dahil pinayagan ninyong umuwi si Ninoy.

Salamat Apo Ferdie, dahil gahaman ka.

Salamat AVSECOM, dahil sa pagiging inutil ninyo, nagkaroon tayo ng bagong salapi.

Salamat Ate Glow, at medyo uto-uto ka.

Salamat Ateneo, at mayabang ka.

Salamat, salamat, dahil tumama sa Sabado ang ika-21 ng Agosto.

The holiday will be over in a few minutes. Blech.

I make you lait, Kris Aquino.

My good friend and fellow oldie, <a href=”, wrote a column about Kris Aquino the other day, and how, like Kris Aquino, she also likes to be the center of attention when it comes to chitchatting with her amigas and palanggas, even if it means divulging nasty details about oneself that no one really cares to hear.

At the same time, I have noticed, to some dismay, that Kris has become a Filipino answer to Jerry Springer.

I happened to have the misfortune of catching the househelp watching The Buzz while on my way to the neighborhood sari-sari store for a soda. She was grilling one guest – I forget who, it’s not important – over something equally unimportant, and the guest looked like she was on the verge of tears.

It is clear her interviewing style borrows heavily from Boy Abunda’s: badger your guest needlessly while spouting obviously fake sympathy (don’t bother hiding it from the discerning viewer, the camera does not lie!). It’s become so bad that Boy doesn’t interrupt that much anymore.

Sometimes, it’s just too painful to watch. But people DO watch, and watch with fascination as the cherished daughter of a national hero disgraces herself on national television every single day.

How does she disgrace herself? Her lack of tact, among her other flaws, is legendary. Television could be the worst industry she could have picked, because it magnifies your flaws like no other. Finally, she puts her flaws out on display, day after day. People watch it because there’s nothing more entertaining than watching a person self-destruct. Don’t believe me? Watch The Buzz every Sunday on Channel 2. You’ll get hooked, and I’ll bet it’ll be for the wrong reasons.

She’s William Hung, except that William Hung isn’t the favorite daughter of the country’s national hero.

I am led to believe it’s called schadenfreude, that guilty feeling of pleasure you get out of watching someone else’s pain. I don’t get any pleasure out of watching her, because I feel more for the pain she (un)consciously inflicts on those who may really care about her.

That doesn’t mean I like her. I admit I watched Pido Dida 8 times, but that was when I was a mean little child with a lot less empathy than I do have now.

Once upon a time, I heard that that’s the way women feel better about themselves: when they hear about someone who’s having it worse than them. The theory goes on to say that this is the principle that explains the concept of lait. Sure, it’s fun, but girls do it mostly to cover up their own insecurities.

I have girl friends who pick on other girls in the law school, and have become quite notorious for their antics. No one is safe from their broadsides, so I guess it all evens out. Equal opportunity offenders and all that.

Now, I’m not sure what their tirades mean, but I’m not in a hurry to find out.

Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll

I’ve always been an advocate of the holy trinity = sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I don’t think I’ll look like Pepe Smith in a few years, partly because I’m too fat to look like him. That’s neither here nor there.

What I was thinking of though, was about the effects of MDMA, taken in a sufficient dose, to a group of orgy participants. Would it make them more conjoined? I went to to find out and the testimonials there are somewhat promising. Since the drug tests on MDMA have been confirmed as one big hoax, I’ve felt a lot more safe in considering using it in a “clinical” trial.

Now, to find a test group.

Swing, batta batta, swing!


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