some sunday sharing

You know it is rare nowadays to have mail men delivering letters and parcel since the advent of email and text messaging, most specially on a Sunday. But I got a pleasant surprise yesterday. Midmorning, a delivery guy handed in a fat envelope. “Stocks galing sa Meralco,” the man said matter of factly. I opened the envelope as if it was a present during Christmas time, and behold Meralco gave out 10 percent stock dividend.”

Nice one. Afterall, it has been a while since Meralco gave out something either as stock or cash dividend to their shareholders. My Meralco shares are special. Afterall, it was my first major investment. And from a young college student who took the leap of faith, the business funding was not something to sneeze at. I had no idea how the whole stockmarket worked then. Although at that time, I stumbled upon heaps of paper of shareholding from the mining sector inside the supposed fire proof vault. And when I asked about them from my Dad, “They’re now worthless,” was the stern reply.

But still I was intrigued with what I always read at the Business Section of newspapers. All those digits, and all those big businesses. So when Meralco called on people to invest, I made the telephone call only to find out that I could only have Meralco A shares. The pricier B shares were reserved for foreign investors. My mind could only fathom – “that’s discrimination!” In any case, I still bought at IPO (initial price offering) rate.

And I found out that particular time was already the beginnings of a boom run. Weeks later, values of shares rose very significantly on a daily basis. From an initial value of around thirty bucks per share, Meralco A shares steadily went threefold. With a very rosy financial picture, the lure was to get some more shares, particularly from coming IPOs as the values were cheaper. And with some financial helping from Dad, I chose supposedly good ones – even the much anticipated Petron shares. The market was so good that one analyst had this tongue in cheek advice: Get a dart, and position a newspaper clipping of all participating corporations in the Philippine Stock Exchange as your dartboard. Where the dart landed, try investing on it.

The market fever was contagious. I would regularly send messages to my Dad thru his pager (no, text messaging yet) about the news of the meteoric rise of shares. I had a girlfriend, cousin, aunts and uncles buy shares from my friend Andoy. My classmate Hansel and I would even meet him at open parking lot at UP Phan even during the evenings after he got off at work from Makati Stock Exchange just to buy and sell shares. The whole scenario looked sinister, having to talk about the stock market inside an auto, while exchanging money and stock certificates. The look was very Mafioso as if we were trading shabu.

I even had a special trip going to the old Makati Stock Exchange Building. I brought along my cousin Paulo to meet up with Andoy. We bought some Steniel shares, as we knew that the company was giving out fifty percent stock dividend. The visitors’ lounge was stuffy because of the number of people who went their to ogle at numbers at the Big Board. With pens and some scratch paper in tow, people religiously computed wins and losses. Apparently, they never go to advise us two that the Steniel stocks were lemons. After the dividend, prices plummeted. And we just had to sell the shares at a loss.

And that was the start of loss of many other investments. Earlier the economy had been running fever pitch, then all of a sudden the market came down with flu in the entire Asian region, including the Philippines. Interesting metaphors – after the fever, a flu.

The Phisix shares had a steady decline. And it was painful to monitor how the prices went down. But still I held on to numerous sets of shares – mostly from the power sector, hoping things will improve on a long term basis. And since the start of this year, the market has slowly recovered; in fact Phisix has already had its all time high this year. And with this ten percent share surprise blessing, this stocks and shares business promises to be another monster hit.

(MATA) posh them more into celebrityhood

Well after some leakage supposedly by one enterprising entertainment website, the Big Brother House reopens its doors, this time for the second batch of celebrities, vying to become the Big Winner after 70 days inside the house. The show starts with PDA scholars, eman and yeng singing the Celebrity Edition theme. It is nice to see them featured, although eman seems to be singing the second voice flat throughout.

Then hosts, Mariel and Bianca don maid uniforms to show a newly refurbished home, fit for true A list celebrities. Of course, the house showcases carpets from Kian (Season 2 housemate). I guess carpets will be flying off again from stores at the malls. (don’t you notice carpets have always been sold at 50 percent less?) But you have to give it to the guy, Alfred Galvez to create great and inspiring murals. The one done at the dining area was typical fresco wall art. Da Vinciesque. A culturati would appreciate it. This guy is an artist. Again, PSID shows off its students’ work through the interior works. Nice for Direk dyogi to tap these guys. The school has done consistently good.


Toni Gonzaga, the main and most competent host calls in each housemate. Each is interviewed, blindfolded, and whisked inside the house:

Will Devaugn (sp?) – I guess walang jollibee sponsorship this time
Megan Young – di ba Starstruck galing ito, reality show times 2!
Riza Torres (?) – gandang galing sa giyera
Ruben Gonzaga – funny man from davao
Victor Basa – wants some help sa electricity and realty tax
Yayo Aguila – will she now spill the beans about William’s drug issue
Baron Geisler – this guy has real issues, nice to see him here
The Banker of Deal or No Deal?! - ay hindi…si marylaine daw…well one of the more forgettable faces ng mga girls ni banker….pero bipolar daw....woo!

Then there is a brief interlude. The camera goes to the main sala area. Housemates are asked to remove their blindfolds. Some exchanges of kamustahan.

Then big brother asks Marylaine and another guy (Baron Geisler) to get the very large suitcase, near the confession room and be brought to where the other housemates are. It turns out another of the 26k girl has been inside that case for a long time (reminiscent of the smart car suffocation accident?). The girl is too glad to get out of that compartment.

Toni gonzaga explains that this girl and marylaine are twin parts of the new gimmick. Voters who pick one girl to be saved, pick the other girl as well. “Parang buy one, take one lang.”

The roster continues.

Donald Geisler – taekwondo artist, kuya ni baron, formidable geisler brothers - part of the "twinning gimmick", resbakan na!

Then the roster stops. Big Brother instructs the housemates to get the key frozen in a block of ice from the swimming pool. The key opens the lock of a big beer barrel. Obviously, an activity that can whet Baron’s need for some alcohol. The camera pans to baron’s face, feigning a “uhuh..that activity is not intended for me” countenance.

Big Brother nicely asks the housemates to change into their swimgear. We get to see our Christmas presents as early as now, with bodies carefully wrapped in terrycloth bathrobe. Heck, we will see all of those princely assets by tomorrow.

Then the trickling in of the housemate stops as four other housemates will enter the house at their own time. At least 10 people technically are inside the house thus boredom among housemates and the viewers is not an issue here unlike season 2.

Sadly, i do not see ethel booba among the four coming in yet. Early prognasticators including the website that leaked out the list had it wrong this time. Unless ethel was scrapped out of the original list.

The show rolls out the ending credits. That's all folks until when we get to see again the hip and happenin house which I believe will become grungier by the day.

a pre-season phase

Oh me and my face. This mug of mine needed some supposed pampering. But how can you say having a facial is pampering when after some obligatory facial massage, pain engulfs your being.

Well it has been at least three months since I saw my dermatologist for some scrubbing and pricking. So I decided to see my doctor at the mall yesterday. Big time error. I should have done it last Thursday instead. I knew it was Eid’l Fitr, marking the end of our Moslem Brother and Sister’s Ramadan, but I did not expect troops upon troops of people cramming the whole area, as if the mall had turned into a celebratory spot for the holiday. Because of the long queues at the ATM machines for some weekend cash, I decided that I needed to pay my derma service thru credit card instead.

I got to the clinic, and behold the whole place was gushing with Christmas ornaments – like every corner was just wanting to be decorated with some Santa Claus plastic board and fake fir trunk. Not to be missed are blue and yellow parols on the ceilings. “Paskong pasko na,” a remark that just needed to be blurted out to the waiting attendants.

My attendant and I went to the initial stage of the facial - lathering my face with soap and massaging the facial tissues (ok, this is the pampering side of the visit). While the attendant kneaded that area of the eyeballs (I said “eyeballs” alright, and her name is not Kris’s James’s Hope either), there was this large and long scary howl.

“Hay naku ganyan talaga tuwing hapon, mga nakakatakot na tunog na pang Halloween. Galing yan sa baba kung saan may kunwaring haunted house. Tapos sa umaga naman, puro kanta ng pasko naman. Nakakainis. Ang aga-aga pa.”

Exactly my sentiments, why are we rushing to celebrate holidays? It freaks me out that Christmas songs are sung as early as September 1 (although our tree goes up November 1). And to have mock up haunted houses two weeks before Halloween is disconcerting. If it is up to me, Halloween should be marketed (by malls specially) a week before. And since we so love the season, Christmas ornaments should be up after November 1. (Thus I contradict my own decree with merely one day. And what’s one day?)

So there I was lying down inside the chamber of pain for the second portion of the facial. The dermatologist pricked and needled my face although she had less zits and blackheads to work on. Still, it was no less painful, and some blood oozed from this face. “Ok just come back,” the derma urged as usual. But if things go right, I thought that maybe next year perhaps, after the holiday season?

Now out of the clinic, I ambled myself towards my car. Then I realized I was near the freaking haunted house. As I peeped at the window to see the activity inside, I saw some four and five year olds peeped back at me. Their look on their face were not as perturbed as expected. But who knows - they might be in shock. With some blood on my face, that house could have been a lot more terrifying.

Maverick at the Attic (MATA)

“Nnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…..,” a loud reaction came out from my brain as loud as the scream produced by Bruce when Wendy got evicted from the house of Kuya.

This was my immediate reaction once another Big Brother series was on the offing. After the hullabaloo about the inclusion of Wendy until the Big Four, director Dyogi must have that heart of steel to do another one yet. And to do another Celebrity Edition even when he himself admitted to have troubles the first time around truly makes him a good soldier of the studio.

There is nothing like watching reality television, particularly when it is produced as good as the ones done by ABS and Endemol. And I have to commend both entities for creating local reality shows worth the watching notwithstanding Direk Joey Reyes’s pronouncements on the last edition of PBB. These shows are not done primarily just for entertainment, but to elicit viewer reactions.

And if writers are creative and judicious enough, they should be able to produce situations which should push the buttons of the housemates. But it would be more effective television if the housemates themselves are the ones to rouse other housemates to grip us into watching day-in and day-out real drama. That is why I was very appreciative of Wendy as she had the derring-do of upping the ante of a somehow lethargic series.

But many of the televiewers have to be cautioned not to disparage people inside that little big house of Kuya. Each housemate has a story to tell, and a role to play. And if the housemate delivers it with gusto, then so much the better for the viewers. Their little stories and roles weave a narrative for all of us to get glued on the television. And hopefully, it gives us a morality tale that sparks conversation and little arguments in our houses, offices, and in the different internet fora.

What the housemates say and do is not the end all and be all of their personhood. The housemates just decide to show personas for all of us to have a sneak peek on. As I have said time and time again, we as viewers are not better than the housemates. My fear is that viewers will be diminished to condemning, accusing, and finger pointing individuals. I hope the viewers this time value the whole series thematically rather than the individual parts of the housemates.


Are the televiewers prepared for another ride of mind boggling, heart pounding, gut wrenching, bone chilling and hair pulling antics of the celebrity housemates?

“Yyyesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!” But please watch with caution.

desperate for a respectable image

I am not a particular follower of the show “Desperate Housewives” but if I am not mistaken, a Filipina was part of its cast about two weeks ago as shown on Studio 23. And guess what her role was: a maid.

And on its latest telecast in the US, the Philippine schooled doctors have now been ascribed to as mediocre by one of the desperate housewives, played by Teri Hatcher. I got to watch a a very short video of the show, thanks to You Tube and my hunch is that the specific episode could have been taped while the frenzy on the Nursing Board Exam was at its highest last year. Perhaps the writers heard about the scandal, and thought of innocently generalizing the whole medical profession having dirty rotten professionals, including doctors. In any case, we know it is not the fault of those who took the nursing exam, but heck the lazy and callous writers injected such “funny” details just to achieve some punch in their script lines.

But the reason could be worse. Maybe, despite our deep inclination to give a real good impression of how we are as a people, still the global perception is that we are a nation of cheats and liars. I am not about to rattle off a long laundry list of our mistakes, and the way we try to cover up such mistakes brought about by fraud, scams and deceit. You name the area, and I tell you a scandalous shenanigan in that area. Politics. Sports. Education. Entertainment.

Just the same, the comment is deplorable. Afterall, it is the desperate housewives' nation that has been counting on the Philippines to export its own medical laborers to their shores – from doctors, physical therapists to nurses - to the detriment of the health of our nation's very own citizens. Yet who knows - probably, it is the Pinoy hands that have made these desperate housewives’ boobs balloon and inflate. And because of the anasthesia, they were too groggy to have recognized the brown skinned Pinoy manhandling their worthy assets.

I agree as a nation, we need to assert ourselves and be indignant about this obvious booboo. Cheeky writers need not use that image of the country as full of charlatans and swindlers. Afterall, our very own desperate housewife, the figure of Imelda and her shoes has been more than enough.

and what really matters is hail, alma mater!

as tomorrow's do or die game between ateneo and la salles descends on us, it is interesting to read a foreign sports journalist's take on the intense arch-rivalry. this article is taken from the prestigious New York Times.

A Nation’s Passion Lives in a Rivalry of Green vs. Blue
By Raphael Bartholomew

QUEZON CITY, the Philippines, Sept. 21 — Senators, foreign diplomats, cabinet ministers, a smattering of Forbes’s 40 richest Filipinos, movie stars and enough professional basketball players to play five-on-five. They are the elite of Philippine society, and they all gather at Araneta Coliseum in Quezon City to watch the men’s basketball rivalry between the universities Ateneo de Manila and De La Salle.

La Salle Coach Franz Pumaren said, “The janitors in Araneta always say, ‘If there’s an Ateneo-La Salle game, once everybody’s out of the coliseum, it still smells good because of the all the socialites watching.’ ”

In the basketball-crazed Philippines, where former players have become senators and nearly every public square has its own court, it is hard to imagine a crowd like this assembling for any other event. Kristie A. Kenney, the United States ambassador, attended the season’s first meeting between Ateneo and La Salle in late July.

Ateneo and La Salle are the most prestigious private universities in the country. The question of which institution provides a superior education is a toss-up; the tie breakers take place on the basketball court.

Although Ateneo and La Salle have similar upper-class student bodies, their respective basketball teams are very different.

The Ateneo players have a squeaky-clean image. The team’s prize freshman, Kirk Long, came from Faith Academy, a high school in suburban Manila for the children of foreign missionaries. Guard Eric Salamat’s surname means thank you in Tagalog.

La Salle’s players have a menacing swagger, with tattoos, headbands, shaved heads and chin-strap beards. In 2005, La Salle revealed that two of its players had used phony high school equivalency results in their applications, and the team was suspended for the 2006 season.
The teams also play different styles, with somewhat different results. The De La Salle Green Archers won four straight national championships from 1998 to 2001 thanks to its vaunted trapping defense.

“The dreaded press; you know your guards will turn over the ball against it,” said Joel Banal, who coached Ateneo in 2002 and 2003. “I used to have nightmares about it.”

Ateneo plays textbook basketball, with man-to-man defense and an inside-out offense that relies on post-up moves and perimeter shooting. The Blue Eagles won the 2002 championship, their only title in the last 17 years.

If Ateneo wins Sunday’s game against the University of St. Thomas, it will face La Salle for the fourth time this season, in the national semifinals. Ateneo has won two of their three meetings this season, games decided by a total of 6 points.

In each of these nail-biters, the 15,000-seat arena was sold out, with supporters standing in aisles and stairwells. Almost everyone on La Salle’s side of the coliseum wore green. On the other side, Ateneo’s fans wore blue. Marching bands blared fight songs as spectators on both sides chanted.

The frenzied crowds are often led by some of the most prominent alumni. Senator Richard Gordon, a former Ateneo cheerleader, is renowned for sideline antics like jumping on the scorer’s table to rile up the crowd. La Salle counts the former finance secretary José Pardo and the shipping mogul Enrique Razon Jr. among its supporters.

The rivalry allows Manila’s elites to relive their carefree college days, said Ricky Palou, Ateneo’s athletic director. “It’s the passion they have for their alma mater,” he said. “They become immature. They act like kids.”

The fans’ excessive behavior is matched by the largesse that the alumni lavish on their teams. A group from Ateneo installed the hardwood floor used for the 2000 N.B.A. All-Star Game at the university gym. Not to be outdone, Razon donated about $1 million, which went toward refurbishing La Salle’s sports center and financing athletic scholarships.

The heightened atmosphere of the rivalry puts coaches and players under enormous pressure. When Joe Lipa coached Ateneo in the late 1990s, the former president Corazon Aquino, whose daughter Kris is a 1992 graduate, would call Lipa to check on the team’s progress, said Ricky Dandan, Lipa’s former assistant.

“You can lose to all the other teams, but not to La Salle,” Banal said.
When his team defeated La Salle for the championship in 2002, it was “my most fulfilling accomplishment,” Banal said, adding: “After that championship it’s like the whole Filipino nation knew me. Like if you go to a restaurant, you eat, you’re paying your bill, somebody from Ateneo got it already.”

But the shame of losing also haunts players and coaches. In the final game of the 2002 national championship series, the La Salle star Mike Cortez missed 11 of 13 shots. Afterward, La Salle students and alumni accused Cortez of throwing the game. Although Cortez is now an all-star guard in the Philippine professional league, many fans still regard him as a game fixer.

The rivalry has loosened the bond of friendship between the teams’ coaches. Ateneo Coach Norman Black and Pumaren won several professional titles together in the late 1980s with the San Miguel Beermen.

“If you’re part of the rivalry, you just don’t like each other,” Black said. “Franz played for me and he was my assistant coach, but that has little bearing on what’s happening right now. He’s the coach of La Salle; I’m the coach of Ateneo. Let the chips fall where they may.”

Raphael Bartholomew, who did research at Ateneo de Manila University and was an adjunct lecturer there, is writing a book about Philippine basketball.

the lonely planets of kc, maverick and ariel, and that lady on a white horse

One of my favorite shows during the late 90s until the start of the new millennium.was “Lonely Planet” shown on Discovery Channel. It was a travel show about the solo sojourns of the backpacking host, usually by my favorite, the clownish Ian Wright. What appealed to me about this show was that the host went around to check not the usual tourist itinerary but delved into the more exotic and the atypical of a certain country. The host would not be billeted in the regular Ramadas or the Hiltons, but would be housed in small inns or cabanas. If he is lucky, he might sleep alone but sometimes he had to share room with other backpacking and snoring guests. And if there was no place which could be rented out with pittance money, then the host just had to be content with sleeping under a tree. The show provided the viewers a roughing it method of a traveler different from the customary comforts and convenience of the sightseer toting his digital camera. If you wish, “Lonely Planet” was akin to “Amazing Race” except the guy in the “Lonely Planet” had no one to bicker with.

Interestingly, last Sunday night I got to catch three versions of Pinoy guests roughing it in different sites of the world. Sharon Cuneta’s eldest daughter gave us a glimpse of her life in oh la la Paris when she had stayed there for four years as a student. She introduced us to her pretty friends that have been her source of company and strength while living without Mommy Sharon around.

But I had to give it to the girl, ah este, the woman, KC. I was floored by the way she lived her life in Paris. Paris may be the city of high lifestyle, but KC decided to take less than privileged life in that city of lights. Her life was spartan. She would just take her bike to go to school, but then at one point the bike got lost to thieves. She would cook and would clean. But what took the cake for me was her small room which really looked like a dorm rented in a place near the University Belt. She could have asked for a grander apartment, and maybe a yaya around. But she did not. That’s my kind of girl, este woman.

On another channel, I got to see the wacky duo, Maverick and Ariel, exploring the truly enigmatic landscape of Nepal. If KC had a subdued stay in Paris, Maverick and Ariel tried hard to live it up as they were too happy to be rebaptized as Kapuso members (they always said it with glee). With Ariel donning his all plaid Burberry suit and tagging along his likewise all plaid Burberry briefcase, he and my tukayo Maverick explored with difficulty the exotic food that Nepal had to offer. At one restaurant which was like our own carinderia, Ariel had the audacity to bring his own plastic plates all the way from Shoemart. Although they got to feature how one streetfood was done, they refused to eat the hand prepared, and visually unappealing food. I guess they never got to learn the saying – “When in Nepal, do as the Nepalese do”. My kind of guys since their stint at ABC 5.

At the same time, on the Pinoy Movie Channel I caught snippets of the remake of “Ang Pinakamagandang Hayop sa Balat ng Lupa” with the young Ruffa Gutierrez as the lady visitor who created havoc in a fishing village because of her sensual appeal cast upon the male inhabitants. Thus in a way at the tail end of the story she became the unwanted guest, most specially by the women. But my essential question regarding the film was how come the statuesque leading lady was riding a puny white horse. Couldn't the art director use a better looking white horse? Or did he just rely getting the animal from Tagaytay or Baguio where small equines abounded for traveling visitors. Obviously that hayop was not my kind of horse.

singing into madness

My dad is into his own world once he gets into his singing. He manages to use the wireless Magicsing Microphone as he lays on his back (yes, he sings from his bed). Dad usually does his 50s and 60s ditties inside his own room, as if the neighbors, beside his area, really cared for his unkind talent. Nevermind the hideous pronunciation or the funny accent, my dad will kill to sing.

There was a time when I could not even distinguish whether my Dad was singing the lyrics or was already having his asthma attack. I just had to rush to his room; it turned out he was clobbering “Beautiful Sunday”. “Haa-haa-haa, beau-ti-ful Saaan-daayy”. Beautiful Sunday, indeed.

There is no denying, if there is anything Pinoys should be most proud of - it has to be our musicality. (I could have added the info that Philippines is the “texting capital of the world”. Alas that distinction goes already to China). No doubt about it, as a people we have the penchant to sing- and proudly many of us sing in all stages around the world, whether as a torch singer in a bluesy club in Saipan, a lead in a Broadway musicale, or a tranny evoking the musical stylings of Madonna in Tokyo. Yet not everyone gets to have the same acclaim in public performances around this town, in Pinoyland.

It seems today even our kind of musical talent can turn into a deathly act. Croon “My Way” at the videoke club as if it were your last. Somehow there is a possibility of you being shot down for unknownst reason other than your version was way better than the one done earlier by the vocalist who just turned criminal.

And last night, like the past Saturday nights, I became maniacal about what I was watching. I got to watch celebrities and semi celebrities birit their way into temporary madness at the Celebrity Duets. Some screeched, some shrieked, some bellowed and some bawled into fits of incomprehensible performances except for the one provided by the Artist Manager, Wyngard Tracy. Some of them did recognize their non-mastery that they had to resort to some kind of gimmickry. That could have been a better option than putting up a screaming match between the authentic and faux performers. All of these acts wasted for the sake of snatching a million grand for the favorite charity.

And yesterday, the panel of commentators ala American Idol was not put into use. Either the observers had enough of the ghastly routines and just walked out. Or they exactly knew that their kind of nudging was not reflective of the results thus there was no need for them at all. Other changes had to be instituted in the show to have more credible outcome. Each cellphone line was limited to submit ten text votes, and there was just a number of hours to do the text voting, not the usual one whole week. Hmmm, maybe the weeks before, the contestants themselves had to buy so much load and asked their employees and yayas to textvote nonstop until the following show.

Admittedly, there might be this perversed need for me to witness seemingly successful people reduced to wannabees. But wouldn’t it be a treat for all of us if each of them gets to sing “My Way” until they all disappear into some kind of oblivion. Hopefully no guns though.

spokening english 101

i have no illusion of being a paragon of knowledge in correct english usage....but i know many of us will be educated with this article from Philippine Post including me (or is it "including myself"?).

Starting the Year Right... with Proper English
Literature & Culture
By ALFRED A. YUSON
January 2002

One of the local titles included in my honor's list of books of 2001 was Leoncio P. Deriada's Little Lessons, Little Lectures, published and exclusively distributed by Seguiban Printers and Publishing House, of La Paz, Iloilo City.

I vowed to review this little "sleeper" of a book at a future date. Well, it might as well be now, so we can start the year on the right foot. Uhh, footing?

Deriada is a multi-awarded literary writer, a Palanca Hall-of-Famer on the strength of his first-prize awards in various categories. He writes stories, plays, essays and children's stories in English, has tried his hand at Kiniray-a and Hiligaynon, translates from those languages, teaches at the UP in the Visayas in Iloilo City. He serves as a bulwark of knowledgability in the seasonal writers' workshops held all over the country.

Leo has authored several books in numerous genres. An unpublished manuscript of his that I still recall with admiration is a short story for children titled "The Man Who Hated Birds." As a judges in that Palanca contest of some years back, I pushed for its acceptance as the run-away first-prize winner. I had no idea it was his entry, else I might have practiced some restraint, since we had been contemporaries as Silliman University instructors ages ago, and shared good memories of our kids learning to bike around the campus together.

A publisher should pry that manuscript off Deriada, assign it to one of our outstanding young illustrators (Jason Moss might be a perfect choice), and voila! We'll have another commendable children's book the PBBY can nominate for an international prize.

Anyway. Back to the welcome task at hand. A note says that Little Lessons, Little Lectures "was completed to satisfy the requirements of the G.E. Chair of Associate Professor of Communication and Humanities which the author occupied during the school year 1997-1998."

We should all be grateful that Deriada caused its eventual publication. Every English department in every public and private school in the country should have a copy. Better yet, all English teachers from grade school up should have one, and endeavor to share the book's wealth of instructive material with everyone who cares to unlearn all the bad things we've done and keep doing to the English language.

Perhaps Sec. Raul Roco can have his department, surely the most important and vital to our future, disseminate as many copies of this book as possible. Newspaper, magazine, and tv news editors also need it as bedside reading, else for whipping parvenu reporters into line.

Deriada says in his Foreword: "After forty-one years in the classroom, I think it is time for me to put into a volume the many, and various, little lessons, little lectures that I have been sharing with my students. These ... have been culled from various sources, some of them quite unorthodox: library books, hardbound as well as mimeographed textbooks, the English dictionary, the Reader's Digest, Jean Edades' column as well as various little conversations with her. But the biggest source of the materials -- that means the errors this book is trying to correct -- is my own classroom and the many Philippine publications like newspapers and magazines. Somehow, after many years of teaching English, reading Philippine newspapers and magazines and listening to Filipinos speak in meetings and conferences, during interviews, on the stage and on radio and television, I have a clear idea of the particular problems of Filipinos in using the English language. This book addresses these problems."

Remember Jean Edades? Someone should revive the idea of a little daily column like hers, and have it syndicated nationally.

On another aside, I note with appreciation that Deriada shares my oldtimer's regard for the erstwhile traditional convention of having a simple apostrophe signify the possessive, as in "Edades'" -- as against the updated "Edades's" -- which I am often reluctant to adopt. Why? Well, "Marcos's" and "Ramos's" may seem all right to ready followers of contemporary stylebooks, but I find it hard to suppress a giggle or wince over such occurrences as "Zeus's" and "Odysseus's."

This is not a book on grammar per se. Deriada delves into correct usage, alerts readers to common pitfalls, explains the effectivity of literary, figurative, and metaphorical language.

In any case, one can hardly be a purist with grammar these days. As they say, everyone makes misteaks. Or become prone to accepting what's been popularized, at the expense of an awareness of correctness.

As Deriada reminds us, "The popularity of the error alright is such that you might think it is acceptable. It is not. It is always an error. It has to be spelled in two words, all right. The authority is any English dictionary. Curiously, alright -- because probably of its popularity -- is listed in the biggest English dictionary I have ever seen. A copy is in the library of Silliman University. It is so big that one needs a wheelbarrow to move it about. What does the dictionary say opposite the misspelled entry? Not the approved spelling. Consult all right."
Deriada also reminds the reader that "in spite" is also spelled as two words, "full-pledged" is an awful if common local error, frequently replacing the correct "full-fledged," and that "cope" doesn't necessarily have to team up with "up" -- but more with "with." Further: "The verb avail always has a reflexive pronoun. Always. You do not say, 'I would like to avail of the services of a lawyer.' You say, "I would like to avail myself of the services of a lawyer.'

Here's something not too many editors or party planners know:

"A celebrant is one who officiates in a ceremony or ritual whereas a celebrator is one who celebrates an occasion."

Deriada derides the Filipino invention -- only because it's hoodwinked many of our speakers, writers, and academics -- of the non-English terms "votation," "aggrupation," and "masteral" as in "masteral studies." Well, "aggrupation" has been so embraced by otherwise distinguished Filipino journalists that we've seen it picked up by writer-editors in Hong Kong and Singapore. Just like the formerly non-existent word "insightful."

Deriada also notes, but more in jest: "Presidentiable, senatoriable, mayorable. There are no such English words. But these words are alive and kicking in the Philippines, threatening to be permanent contributions of Filipinos to the growth of English. If only for that, the world should thank our stinking politics."

It's that kind of a charmer's little volume. As the author admits, "a grammar book can be deadly in its dullness." Which is why he's chosen to write it in "an interesting, enjoyable manner," a manner that "might even be jocose."

Spelling and pronunciation are treated in such fashion.

"Almost always, ph is pronounced as f. But not in shepherd. This is sheperd, not sheferd. Remember this when you sing those Christmas carols in December. The sheferds in Bethlehem would just be like Facifica Falayfay saying, Ang safatos ni Fafa nafutikan."

Deriada wags a finger: "Electric lights and faucets are not opened or closed." And: "'I'll go ahead does not mean 'Mauna ako.'" He also relates how a moviehouse in Iloilo once flashed an announcement on the screen: "Something is wrong with our aircondition. Please bare with us."

Because some of these brief pieces appeared in a regional weekly in the early 90s, there are numerous references to Kiniray-a and Hiligaynon. But the titles of the 77 little chapters are themselves intriguing and instructive outright. As in: "The first syllable of breakfast does not sound like break." Or: "Folk rhymes with poke."

Reminds me of our generals who love to say "lawnch an offensive" instead of "launch," which is "lonz," as differentiated from the lobby lounge or lounge lizard. Then there's a columnist who used to have a tv talk show where he kept saying "country" as "count-tree." Pardon the possible obscenity, but it's "cun-tri."

Oh how we miss Pete Lacaba's column, "Carabeef Lengua" was it, where he raised jocose questions over such dubious Filipinisms as the DPWH's "accident-prone area."

Television stations would do well to hire either Deriada or Lacaba for live-in seminars on correct English usage. Attendees ought to be all of the twenty-something news reporters given so much premature liberty to conduct live stand-uppers. Might as well throw in the desk editors, news writers and news readers.

For our part, we still lament the most common incursions of Filipino English into a state of impropriety. The following peeves may still be seen or heard in utmost frequency in our print and broadcast journalism:

"Result to..." NOT! It's "result in..."

"Among these include..." OUCH! It's either "among these are..." or "these include..."

"The President assured that ..." As far as we know, "assured" is a transitive verb, needing a direct object, as in "...assured the public." To be safer about it, try the more formal "gave assurance..."

It's "a whopping sum," not "whooping" as favored by entertainment writers. And "premiere" should refer only to a special or advance performance, the very first, while "premier" means top-class, foremost, or someone in Tony Blair's position.

"Footage" as a collective noun is still preferable to the brutishly pluralized "footages," just as it's "furniture" and not "furnitures." "Fishes" and "medicines" are acceptable as distinct citations of varied numbers, but generally it should still be "fish" and "medicine" even when referring to many, especially of the same kind.

The dangling modifier is still very much around, as in "Entering the house, a wide lanai greeted us." Correct usage: "...we were greeted by a wide lanai."

And few college students seem to be able to distinguish the simple demands in the use of "could" as against "can." If you don't have the ear for it, the simple trick to remember is that more often than not, "could" relates to parallel past action. "I think I can. I thought I could."

I realize we can't all be specialists in language. But at the very least we should learn to avoid making signage that proclaims our shop to "Specialized in..." something or udder.

Alfred Yuson has edited various publications in the Philippines, aside from being a multi-awarded poet, novelist, essayist and short fiction writer. He is a founding member of the Philippine Literary Arts Council (PLAC), the Creative Writing Foundation, Inc., and the Manila Critics Circle, and is currently Chairman of the Writers Union of the Philippines. He also writes a regular arts and culture column for the Manila-based Philippine Star. He can be reached at kripbam@email.com.ph or through Philippine Post at editor@philpost.com.

stuck on you

There has been a flurry of reactions since the other day’s senate inquiry about the NBN Broadband Deal (not to be confused with bandwidth and the government's station, NBN Channel 4 as what happened to my Dad – all this time, he thought that the government tv station NBN was needing additional radio/tv frequency). The Black and White Movement gave its support as expected to Jose De Venecia III (or Joey but not to be confused with father, Jose De Venecia, Jr, the House Speaker). Speaker De Venecia stands by his son, and admits is torn between his love for his son and loyalty to the President.

FG Mike Arroyo through his spokesperson describes the younger De Venecia’s implication of himself as a blatant lie. The President dismisses his testimony as one vaudeville act. The sons, Mikey and Datu see it as just another political harassment that surely may affect his health. But what got me was the daughter Luli’s response; she saw it as a delusional action brought about by the witness’s past drug experience.

Well of course the presidential daughter has all the right to protect her father, but her reaction was not expected as it lacked her usual poise and composure. This newest allegation that perhaps her father became padrino in the NBN deal must have a struck a deep chord on Luli. Who knows - Luli with her brothers and Joey as sons and daughter from the same political agrupation could have come from the same social network.

I do not know how much and what kind of drugs De Venecia III did in the past. But if the person has been clean, why use his drug issue as a trump card against him. This seems to be an expedient excuse to negate a person’s story: dig up his crazy history and crucify a rehabilitated person. But of course, if all is fair in love and war, why not politics.

Usually it is the person who gets addicted into it that carries the stigma until thy kingdom come. These addicts may already have a troubled psyche to begin with. And to get out of it is an arduous journey that the recovering patient takes. And the person’s will and capacity to be an able part of society have to be acknowledged by everyone, maybe even by his adversary who may still have some remaining compassion for him.

There are many of them who are just eager and wanting to have a second chance in life, and it is truly a big downer if every curious action they take becomes suspect. It seems no amount of good they do and give will completely erase the stain of the past addiction. Yet someone has to take action that this kind of stigma be wrestled and diminished in a supposed humane and charitable society. And Luli who has a good head in her shoulders could have been more circumspect in her reaction, and instead counterattacked on other sensible issues related to the deal.

And if one really insists to be personal about it then Joey should have been criticized more on his atrocious hairstyling (well, not to be confused with his thinning hair as Luli had also so easily carped on).

sweating it out

The television was blaring its morning news. And I was not ready to rise from the bed, no not yet after trying to recover from yesterday’s hangover. It is rare these days that I get to drink some alcohol, but R2 and his family were about to transfer and eventually become tnts in that land of milk and honey so I had obliged R2’s despidida last Sunday. I just hope some beer won’t affect much my liver this time, although the last liver test gave good results.

According to the news the First Gentleman made a sudden departure to Hongkong last night. Hmm so soon. Maybe Mike Arroyo just got bored in Manila while recuperating from the serious heart operation about three months ago. At that time, his heart condition had been so grave, he was almost touch and go. But this time around, he is strong enough - so off he went – to China’s SAR.

As I had my brunch of deep fried asian style chicken balls, produced by SM Supermarket, ANC channel seemed to be covering an important congressional occasion. Yes, the senate inquiry on the ZTE broadband deal had Joey De Venecia as its special guest who was about to announce the “mystery man”. From the looks of deal, the Philippines was like entering into a contract wherein a person has to pay installment for 20 years when the cellphone he gets has to be replaced in two years time because of obsolescence. This broadband deal is to become another great white elephant, comparable to that wasted “Telepono ng Bayan” scheme where a smattering of phones had been installed yet had no line connection whatsoever.

Ho hum, not again. Mr. Mike Arroyo has been tagged as the mystery guy by De Venecia who tries very carefully not to implicate "his president Gloria". But it seems Gloria’s guy is all over the place. Why is Mike always around when anomalies are to be found? I thought he was just the president’s photographer. Maybe it is really about time that he leaves this country for good until the president finishes her term. Mike should seriously consider travel photography, but should do it outside the Philippines.

After Mike Arroyo, I had to focus on other Ateneans and R2’s team, La Salle while I was trying to break sweat in my treadmill just to wash out toxins brought about by the alcohol. On television was a step ladder match for second place of the semi-finals. After a convincing two wins against its arch rival la salle this season, Ateneo failed to capture the third game.

Sayang si Laterre ng Ateneo; if only he made a three point basket instead of the two pointer that he connected. And of course, Villanueva’s one free point shot made the difference for La Salle. The whole game was intense, even more during the last ten seconds. Hopefully, Ateneo wins its next fight, but it has to do it with the formidable UST, last year's champion.

R2 was satisfied, he told me over the phone. At least he got some happy memories as he toils in some backbreaking job in the US. Now I do not know about Mike Arroyo. Most likely he never got to watch the game. Maybe, he could be embarking into a new career as a travel photographer, taking some cityscape shots. But maybe not yet, as he needs to sweat out and figure out how he and the president can get out of another damning sordid mess.

poultry piqued by the priests

Some might think that this could be another kind of urban legend. Or it might just be a form of a ploy used by the religious to recruit young men to follow their spiritual lead. But I do know it is true; take it from me – Jesuit miseducated (joke). Some of the finest food that one can chomp on would be from tables of seminaries. Look at the rotund shapes under those priestly garments. Our clerics may have taken the vow of poverty but certainly not the vow of being famished.

I had the opportunity this week to go to Amici de Don Bosco, this eating place run supposedly by the Salesian priests. Why - the area itself is inside Don Bosco School at the corner of Pasay Road and Pasong Tamo. Just park the car at the nearby Walter Mart.

I have been to the place twice but I still expect that priests in brown cassocks serve the Italian based entrees. Instead, manongs and manangs in casual t-shirts man the trattoria which really looked like my highschool cafeteria. The management does not even try to impress its customers with some distinct Mediterranean ambiance. Yesterday though, an aria from a tenor (Pavarotti?) managed to waft around when the bulk of the customers diminished by 2 pm.

My last order about 6 months ago, lasagna al forno had been a success. This time I wanted to try something else – its popular rosemary chicken (P150.00) and equally popular profiteroles (P50). After lining up at their counters and making orders, in a jiffy the food came my way. Just had to show my order number ala Jollibee.

The serving was huge, almost half a chicken, garnished with quartered potatoes and sliced bread. The roasted chicken was tender and moist, as it was swimming in its juice. But pardon me, the food was a little too tasty for my taste – meaning, maalat that I had to wash down the saltiness with some pretasting of my dessert. Maybe, it was the strong flavor of the rosemary. Subtlety would do more for the recipe. The roasted chicken with some dessert midthrough the meal made the experience bearable.

Certainly, I loved the profitorole – the black and white combination. For every order one gets to have two cream puffs for the taking. One can have puffs either wrapped in white or black chocolate. Creamy custard filling generously oozed from wafers. Two thumbs up for two cream puffs. And in a reversal of roles, I forgive the priests for my chicken as I plan to go back soon for hopefully better choices.

When I went back to Walter Mart for my transportation, I could not resist taking a look at Amici’s gelato counter near the supermarket. There was an assortment of its delectable ice cream. Nice sight to behold. But another sugar feast? Who does eat ice cream after already having lunch time dessert?

In no time, I had the strawberry marble (P20). Am I guilty of sweetness avarice? Must be because of the salty chicken.

virus by remote

Is it really the time of the year when our remote thingymajigs appear to have caught influenza? Apparently, several remotes in our house have somehow stopped working and please do not blame the China made batteries I used to energize the controls. The remote for my room’s wall fan does not perform even if my thumb’s nail has already made a slight indention on the “on” button. The number eight key on my own tv remote inside my dad’s room (at times I sleepover at my dad’s area just to accompany him – separate beds, separate remotes) has refused to do its job (now you could probably surmise which cable channels could be favorites). At the den, the original tv remote won’t work except for the volume switch. Well, that’s ok. Thank goodness, there is still the cable box remote just when you need it most – yeah, during PBB and PDA days.

It may sometimes be unnoticeable yet the simple act of employing some advances in technology does transform your simple actions into a gargantuan of lifestyle changes. A case in point would be my decision to change airconditioning for my room some years ago when remotes for window types were not yet so much in fashion. I thought it would be cool to just shut off the aircon by remote when the room was cold enough. Apparently, I saw a way to economize on electricity rates without even getting up. The problem was I still had to get out of bed to switch on the electric fan – and that isn’t cool. Of course the immediate remedy was to get another electric fan with remote just not to interrupt my indolent resting habit.

This techno kind of domino effect reminds me of the time I bought my first car during the 90s when I just started my real estate career. At that time I wanted to stave off for a long period an upgrade of my music format from the old cassette tapes to cds, but the Mazda unit I was about to purchase had a cd changer as a come on. Darn, I bought the car, and a plethora of cds. Then I realized it would be a pity if I could enjoy the cds only inside my car. In an instant I bought a laser disc machine (the 90s!) which could read as well cds. Of course the new equipment was most satisfying when employed as a movie machine. But then I found out that my 14 inch television was not good enough for the visual delight that a laserdisc could offer. So I had everything, including a brand new 21 inch television (with of course, a working remote), a maxed out BPI credit card, and several months of amortization for the car to boot.

I still have no clue what ails the remotes in our home. I showed them to at least two different repair shops, but they either seemed to have given up on them or had tried to fix them somewhat but several days later, the remotes just expired the same. But what I do recognize is that technology can overtake your life - fever pitch. If you are not cautious enough, you can be so needy of even the smallest convenience or pleasure afforded to you by such gizmos. And losing your equilibrium is a psychological possibility. So buyer beware because this malady can be infectious.

the night of living dangerously

The night was full of promise. Three bachelors were set to fire up a storm, luxuriating in great food and some drinking in the cool night spot along Timog Avenue.

For starters, Billy and I chilled out at my spanking new unit which at that time had been mercifully interior designed. Over some barbecued chicken innards from the sidewalk vendor downstairs, Billy talked about his latest rendezvous in Europe. He described that he was successful peddling acrylic based Batangas arts to some Pinoys in Belgium and Germany. Fine countries and fine arts – that’s how to travel in style.

At last, Atty. Johan arrived. He inspected my place and marveled at my floors. “Not bad,” approving of my design choices except for the large, black ink, Japanese art print of an orchid. “Zen like,” I thought to myself. But I was not about to start an argument with Johan who described himself to be another art connoisseur, seemingly oblivious of Billy’s career as an art dealer.

In the course of the conversation, Johan rattled off his newest beautiful acquisitions –art, stocks and a bride to be. Yups, the lothario already decided to modify his lifestyle. Nice times, nice times.

Then a call came. At the other end of the line was another good friend of ours, R2 who instructed me to check on CNN. There was breaking news – that one of the towers of New York’s World Trade Center was hit by a commercial plane. We stopped the conversation and immediately checked on the tv. Few minutes into watching, we got to see the footage of the plane hitting the tower. Or so we thought. Of course, the next realization was that we just had witnessed the second plane pounding itself into the second tower.

Numbed and stunned, we instead kept vigil of the events about to happen on tv with some San Mig Light cans in our hands. Another airliner torpedoed into Pentagon. A fourth plane crashed into an open field in the state of Pennsylvania. “That could have been for the White House,” Billy rightly predicted.

Eerily, only fire truck sirens punctured the silence outside the building where we are. I turned on to AM radio and it was confirmed that fire trucks and police patrol were on their way to Malacanang and the American Embassy, just in case drastic consequences were to happen as well in Manila. Instantaneously, Johan turned to me and made a sad offer, “The Lebajo painting I own, it can now be yours for a measly 5k.”

I am not sure if the Lebajo art can still be had today at the last price Johan gave me, but certainly I do know a lot more things have profoundly changed since that very night exactly six years ago today. New times, new times.

the case of the missing mansion

The instruction was direct and simple: please check the old house in Baliuag. The phone call came from Davao. My tita’s deceased husband owned the family estate, and apparently all members of the family on my tito’s side had long departed except for the lone daughter who appeared not to have the means to maintain the condition of the ancestral mansion. And she stayed much of her time elsewhere.

I had never been there, but I saw a sepia colored picture of the house. I remembered it distinctly. It looked typical of the middle income family homes of the Tagalog Region just before the coming of the Americans in the 1900s. Its architecture seemed to have cobblestones at its base, and sturdy Philippine wood for the upperfloor walls. Large open frame windows provided breezy ventilation. A concrete stairway led up to the balconaje. Numerous trees and plants surrounded the mansion. And in the picture, a man in his teens, perhaps a helper, had a walis tingting as he had made a small bonfire of dry leaves in an open area at the side. I could see the smoke billowing out of the fire. The snapshot just gave me a romantic impression of a laidback era.

And I was not to allow my impending visit to be a mere inspection of an old manor. Well, just to let you know – I always try to suck out an experience in so many ways. This has been a practice conceivably borne out of our own family place being so far from the very pulse of the metro that I try to do as many errands possible every time I go around EDSA which is the major artery of Manila. And this kind of pragmatic thinking is implemented throughout my lifestyle. Yes there is truth in my own variation of adage – killing a flock of birds with one stone.

This drive to Bulacan could be another good chance for some outdoor photoshoot. I just picked up a new hobby then, photography. And I was experimenting with black and white shots, using el cheapo brand rolls of b/w films. It was still the 1990s, my college years, and not enough money to get finer films. And nopes, the advent of digital cameras was not evident yet. I just had my venerable K-1000 Pentax slr camera, a worthy gift from my Mom.

With my cousin Aldee as the driver of our van, and my cousin Elisa desperate to be a model for this shoot, we went off to our destination. Aldee knew the place, but he had not been there for quite a while. As we were at the supposed locale, the whole area was festooned with fiesta decors. Surprisingly, it was the town feast afterall. But the house was not yet in sight. The van circuited its way through the place’s slender streets until Aldee saw other familiar domeciles.

“This must be it,” Aldee confirmed. But lo and behold, our target dwelling had now been replaced by ferriswheel, caterpillar and the octopus rides. My Tito’s place had been designated as the fair center of the fiesta, complete with beto-beto and bingo shack stations. The whole experience looked like a scene straight out of a Johnny Depp bizarre film.

We have not exactly known how the whole thing happened up to this day. But at that time we just had to contend ourselves with taking some bets at the amusement area, snapping shots of the marching band, and downing the fiesta preparation of spaghetti and Coke of a neighbor. Oh yes, there was a story to tell to my aunt.

give me a noontime break

Wowowee’s “Wilyonaryo” segment fiasco has reached ultimately the halls of the senate and congress. And ABS-CBN together with show host, Willie Revillame is ready to be feasted on by politicians. Of course the elected individuals have every right to know what the heck is going on with the nation’s lunch break televiewing habit. The Joeys, Vics and Willies of noontime game shows appear effective to be the hope of the masa afterall - not the politicos. Notwithstanding the ULTRA stampede tragedy, there are the kilometric lines wanting to get into studios.

Politicians from both chambers have to wait for their turn to show their bag of tricks to the people through tired speeches. You see, sessions begin as these daily shows are about to end. Even if the politicians promise heaven and earth, they still lack the efficacy of new day heroes. Look at them, politicians during last elections were so ready to follow inane dance steps created from such programs to earn votes. Well we now know who can be meister of our fates.

The whole thing started when Joey de Leon of Eat Bulaga opened up what Wowowee wanted to seal close – a gameshow hitch caught on tv. Could it be a sleight of hand, a possible deception? Since Wowowee’s inception, Eat Bulaga’s rating command has started to wobble. Genius as he is, Joey took the opportunity in dismantling some credence of the rival, tickling people’s minds with innuendos even on his television show.

At that time, Joey’s constant ribbing had been purely seen as another antagonistic maneuver of sourgraping. Yet Willie fell for the gambit and made an emotional and angry speech to erstwhile kaibigan Joey. The small ember of an error is now seen as a conflagration of missteps from ABS-CBN, Wowowee management and Willie.

The politicians have taken the cue, and for the past days, have a heyday making themselves funny with this issue by giving out discourses on how to handle noontime shows. Thankfully this happens only during their late afternoons sessions. Afterall, lunch is not a good time to have our tummies aching.

down and disturbed

I think I have watched the television advertisement three or four times now. And every time, the commercial leaves me unsettled. The ad shakes the long-standing foundation of my health principle. This is not something to sneeze at. This belief has been passed on from one generation to another. Subsequently, this tenet guided my mom and the string of yayas and helpers that doted on me and the siblings. And I have to thank them for their wise promptings. As they say - this can be a matter of life and death.

Yup, I have no intention of altering this idea. And I have no qualms of asserting this view on the kids and the youngish. Heck even the elders of today would still follow the counsel of the generations past. No self-respecting health practitioner would amend this practice.

No, not even the commercial’s posturing on how Downy New Antibac Formula deodorizes my sweaty shirt can make me kick the habit of not changing clothes after a high power physical activity. The fabric softener formula only destroys the bacteria brought about by sweating. But there are other consequences when one is drenched with sweat. Brand management seemed to have conveniently forgotten about them. (Oh your moms will kill you.) It is not the amoy-pawis which could put you in dire medical situation. It is the unwiped bucket of sweat that is dangerous.

Well, this is quite easy. No sweat to even articulate it. Down with Downy this time.

one too many deaths

“As I took my Zoology final exam, the proctor, sensing some dread was about to happen at the corridor, had to rush and closed the doors of the room. News enveloped the area that a rumble was about to come up, and a classmate of ours happen to be part of the warring fraternities. Nice for that classmate not to show up at all that day. I did not know which made me sweat more – the exam or the brawl that could have ensued.” – snippet from my memories at UP.

Again, another student has been seduced into the lure of a fraternity that have been instrument of his pointless death. It is confirmed that Chris Mendez, 20 year old graduating student of UP died of hazing a week ago.

As all other deaths brought about by fraternity violence before, truly, this is another senseless killing.

Maybe deaths have considerably lowered these days. Reports of deaths due to hazing have not been as prevalent during the past decades. But I am sure that hazing as a tradition has not been eliminated at all. Afterall, hazing is most valued tradition particularly among the male fraternity members. The violent acts involved are supposedly to prove allegiance and steadfastness among the recruits. Thus the vow of secrecy among those involved is necessary.

But in the course of the initiation, the worst happens. There lies a lifeless body. Now the standard rite has turned into a spectacle of an offering to the fraternity gods.

But this is just not a simple killing. Not just a snuffing out of a young potential. But this is a bludgeoning of parents’ hope and aspiration into nothingness. Now feel the pain of the parents.

My proposition then is to outlaw the implicated organization from the university. Banish the instituted organization that kills and maims the young. Forget the long list of illustrious members. Forget the prestige the fraternity gives to the university. Forget the goodwill it shows to society. The fraternity as a whole should learn its lessons – not only the erring members. Afterall, the traditions and customs of these fraternities give leeway to the culture of violence.

it's not your eyes, baby

When people get to say why a person is attractive, likely they give the set of eyes as specific reason. Guess what – it isn’t so.

I have had long and deep search for what makes a person facially appealing. And as requisite for my Masters education in Psychology, I wanted to know if the eyes do make serious justification in making a person eye-catching. Afterall, the eyes have been always a ready reason whether real or not in explaining why a person is particularly attractive.

Apparently, there have been several theories on facial attractiveness that may employ the eyes as accompanying feature. But that is just about it, an accompaniment.

For instance a male person who has babyface would be most likely considered attractive. Neonate features such as big round eyes have to be accompanied with round face and small nose.At times even the eyes are not as significant in the components of the attractive face. It is said that a male who has feminine face like having softened jawlines and perfect complexions would have attributes of being good fathers and cooperative in relationships.For the ladies, symmetry of the face is essential. And that means the eyes together with other facial features need a delicate balance in order to create a beautiful whole.

And in my research methodology, when the different sets of eyes were isolated and regressed with the accompanying faces, the pair of eyes made a feeble predictor of overall attractiveness. Components which strongly predicted attractiveness were shape of the face and surprisingly - the mouth.

Shape of the face which frames the overall structure of the face is pretty understandable. Usually gorgeous people have definitely nice facial bone structure. And more often than not, fashion and advertisement lady models have this classic oval look.

But a face’s attractiveness being dependent significantly on the attractiveness of the mouth area is somewhat peculiar. My findings also just validated other references which say it is the mouth that determines facial attractiveness – even more than the eyes.

Anecdotally, ladies who don’t have attractive mouths are largely unappealing. And those who have outstanding, luscious lips seem to be more fine-looking. So if there is an area worth the change just in case you need some facial rehab – try to look at the lips and the teeth, and not so much the overemphasized eye area. They just may do the trick.

Now who said that months with braces and retainers were just a waste.

tongue in chic

"However I forgot that the hub was in Dubai and the majority of the OFWs (overseas Filipino workers) were stationed there. The duty-free shop was overrun with Filipino workers selling cell phones and perfume. Meanwhile, I wanted to slash my wrist at the thought of being trapped in a plane with all of them. While I was on the plane (where the seats were so small I had bruises on my legs), my only consolation was the entertainment on the small flat screen in front of me. But it was busted, so I heaved a sigh, popped my sleeping pills and dozed off to the sounds of gum chewing and endless yelling of “HOY! Kumusta ka na? At taga saan ka? Domestic helper ka rin ba?” Translation: “Hey there? Where are you from? Are you a domestic helper as well?” I though I had died and God had sent me to my very own private hell.On my way back, I had to bravely take the economy flight once more. This time I had already resigned myself to being trapped like a sardine in a sardine can with all these OFWs smelling of AXE and Charlie cologne while Jo Malone evaporated into thin air.”

This is the cheeky excerpt from Malu Fernandez’s (could-be) last article in People Asia Magazine, June , 2007 which made her evilly famous – at least to the Pinoy Bloggers.

Well the lady travel writer just wanted to sprinkle some acerbic inputs to the article ala Jessica Zafra’s kind of humor which is usually wrapped in painful annotations on life. But there is supposedly an art in doing this kind of commentary. And Malu Fernandez may just have pushed herself out of the boundaries, particularly when OFW’s are romanticized as the new heroes of the republic. The paragraph’s catty remarks should have been cushioned with some warmth and amiability. But there is nothing in the article that could defend the writer’s caustic personhood. Not even her horrible mistake of taking the flight’s economy class when she considered herself so above them all.

If you get to watch stand up comedies proliferating in the Metro, many of the (usually, gay) hosts would pounce on willing victims – habitués of these bars. The comedians would poke fun on all aspects of information provided by the customers. One time, my singer-cousin, Jerry who had that lilt in the way he talks, was surmised to come from Visayas, and was asked pointblank by the hosts – “Saang barko ka galing” This kind of humor humiliated the un-sophisticates of the Southern region. Yet the audience who I am sure may partly come from the area loved it, and the hosts got away with murder.

But it is in the way these hosts handle such hilarity that provides them ease to get away from a sticky situation. Biglang bawi. Biglang kambyo. They know when it is enough or maybe even more than enough. Either the hosts find something that is worth praising or just give him another chance to dish out another song. And yes terribly, sometimes the singer wannabees just want more minutes on stage to use the damn microphone despite the la-it.

Malu, next time around if you really want to be funny and cutting for your unfortunate victims, you still would want to mitigate your words with some heartful remarks. If not, then just bite that nasty tongue.

a tale of two hens

Well, not exactly. As I meant newshens.

This week ladies in media stole some news space and ended up producing two different repercussions for themselves. Earlier, Gretchen Malalad, the martial arts expert cum Pinoy Big Brother housemate cum ABSCBN police beat reporter found herself in a melee with roguish basketball stalwart Bong Alvarez. Well the professional player after an early morning scuffle with a taxi driver just had to pick another fight this time with Gretchen who was just wanting news details. Well what’s a lady karateka got to do with this scum bag. Now, the lady reporter may have gotten some news reporting chops on her sleeves.

Then came society reporter Malu Fernandez who just had to report on Manila Standard and People Asia Magazine how she disdained OFWs reeking with AXE cologne and Charlie. (I know what AXE can do for men, but does Charlie still exist?) Oh yes, the OFW bloggers won’t take this down and just had to push her bottom out of her cushy seat from these periodicals. Now the lady journalist had to make amends by writing a mea culpa and offering resignation from the publications as of yesterday. Hooray for the OFWs whose sweat may just be as sweet to a stinking financially strapped Philippines.

manila's cacophony of colors

In the almost decaying and decrepit part of Manila’s Sampaloc area where University of Santo Tomas, Asia’s oldest academic bastion is also located, there lies a place that delights the sense of sight and maybe even the smell. Just beside the Dangwa Bus Terminal at Dimasalang St and Dos Castillas St., rows and rows of virtual feast of flowers implore you to take a break and embrace the experience.

The Dangwa Flower Market is Manila’s enchanted garden. This is where variety of floral produce is unloaded from Baguio (as transported by Dangwa Bus). A small stall would have densely packed bundle of vanilla colored baby’s breath. Malaysian mums in strikingly deep hues are tightly fastened and placed lazingly in plastic pails. Fresh Dendrobium Orchids in purple and violet are delicately displayed in plastic wrap. Green foliage litter the red brick floor of the newly fixed up market that evokes the setting of old Manila.

Of course, this flower market has roses of all sizes and shades. Need to seduce a paramour – how about big bulbs of American roses in velvet red, presented as a bouquet draped in Japanese paper. Want to uplift grandma’s spirit – let the shopowner come up with floral arrangement teeming of sunkissed orange and yellow rose blooms. Now how about having that one stem of blue rose (really? could be dyed) for the ultimate crush.

Thankfully, Manila has cheap flowers for the taking. Very likely, prominent flower shops of the Metro would order their merchandise from their suking vendors. It is not a wonder if this sliver of an area is heaving with people not only during February 14 and November 1, dates that require flowers.

But you need to be careful in that area, particularly on a rainy day. Several weeks ago, one boy died as he was swept away by a wave of ankle deep flood. He held on to a Dangwa's lamppost fashioned like the ones in Manila Baywalk. There he got electrocuted and just died.

Thus enjoy viewing and smelling Dangwa's flowers, but don't touch that lamppost. Or else, these flowers may just be brought to you so untimely.

rewriting my brain cloud

yes, life is a constant rewrite. as told early in my psych 101 subject at UP, our thought process adjusts to new stimuli. the brain assimilates and accommodates to new learnings. we start out life as a blank supposedly - a tabula rasa. but such little brain picks up impressions and expressions speedily. and even in its infancy, the brain mightily does its own deletions and erasures. thoughts can be destroyed and be reconstructed.

such is our views with our own living. the hard opinions we now make may just be some reason for feeble whining the next day. the improbability today may just be the most certain thing tomorrow. at times, loads of information may just be needed to stack up until you form a feasible understanding of things going on. and this includes that heated discussion on some disturbing weather patterns.

at first, i was not into this global warming hullaballo. such scientific warning was just another rendition of an apocalypse-now exposition. but this climate thing, this year, weirds me out a lot. supposedly a dry spell should occur this august, and yet here comes the rain again. oh yes, our PAGASA now easily says that the la nina phenomenon is just around some corner. an aftershoot of prayer power perhaps or just truly the effect of that thing called - global warming. (by the way, remember as well that even during the early summer this year, cold spell very much enveloped the luzon area - such that we even had frosted vegetation.)

as my mind's deliberation has probably ended, apparently the academic debate over this process seems not to be over yet. it turns out as i read my two week old newsweek (cover: beijing readies for the olympics), megacorporations dole out megabucks to some quarters in the scientific community to provide excuses for purported global warming. now their main justification seems to be that global warming is a natural happenstance, and not to be blamed on gas emissions.

hmm...well and good....as my views on such occurrence have started with question marks and have ended now with some exclamation points. of course until the next rewrite.

now i wonder if this blogsite has an edit button for such purpose.