wear sun glasses at night

i’ll wear my sun glasses at night

so i can’t see these nonentities parading their shit in front of me

washing their dirty linen before my eyes

suffering me with paranoia, invectives, teary-eyed confessions, fucking endless lying for the benefit of many, many millions of reasons, kicking my country in the gut just for their greed, shameless and wanton grasping for power…

hell, these people would even sell the sun, the moon, the stars, the weather…

to the highest bidder.

they even offered in bargain sale their own souls to the devil.

manga bastoses!

manga animales!

manga walang modos!

manga asal hayupes!

Poor Jun Por Santo!

nothing is going to happen in the pH.  i just feel it in my guts.  this guy, who’s going around the school circuit, must love his own voice very much, and must be paid a hefty “patriotic sum”.  he asked for that “patriotic sum” according mr. lito banayo who was there when he made his behests.

well, our madame ping lacson has a big house in las pinas at bf thai, bf international, where she keeps all her dough.  it is said, she just goes to that house to withdraw her moneys.  when she isn’t inside the house, all the lights are on.  everytime she is there, all the lights are turned off and the basement, only the basements, comes alive.  like chavit singson’s house, the ground and upper floors are lit but no one lives there, or almost.  the basements are where the action is.  but madame’s basements are not for living in.  they are designed like bank vaults.  how much is madame hiding in those basements?  no one knows.  but it must be in the tune of a hundred of millions of dollars or billions in terms of pesos considering the size of the house.  tita ping, as general berroya calls her, probably never thought to be traced with his money in banks.  so he decided to build an underworld bank.  and that’s where jon lozada got his “patriotic sum.”

so now, mr. “patriotic” is going everywhere that there are students, and preaching a student revolt.  how pathetic and totally absurd.  to be paid an enormous amount to corrupt students?  i guess that makes young people and their parents fools for letting someone corrupt the school system and turn it into fidel castro and che guevarra’s foco, or central the revolutionary mass.

but there is no other way, is there?  to keep paying for the rallyists coming to the faus pax people power uprisings means a lot of drain on the  basements of madame tita ping lacson, mr. cover-up strada, mr. junggoy strada, mr. mayor jay vstrada, the missus in makati layedy’s club, miss cheska escudera, mr/ms. pita coyotena, mr. jomboy madrigal, mrs. leery legarda l’vistae, mr/ms. nena pimentail, mr/ms. adel(a) tamanah, mr/ms. ding juliano salimain a/k/a mr/ms. piss bonds, mr. mayor freddy lame, their chinese and hispanic kowtow’ers, messrs. satyr ugambo, cheddy casoy, no?, mr/ms. lizardo maza, and all their other cohorts, factotums, etcetera, etcetera. and a major headache to their major sponsors from the underworld, the Fantastic Order of The Jinn Lovers.

and now here’s this guy, going the circuit telling everyone and sundry, the present resident evil, virus, microbe, whatever, has been planned a long time ago.  and that uncle sam, is the author of all of this.

please!  please!  por joons, por santo, et al stop your stupid mongrelizing of the people now.  before the heavens and earth open and create a commotion trying to one-up each other on who will swallow you first, you damned fool!!!

Crossover!

One can often be superficial.  But that does not make all of me.  (At least  I like to think sometimes, I don’t sound always sophomoric.  That somewhere somehow, there is depth to what I say and do. Eh he he he.)

There is nothing more beautiful and admirable than mingling with both kinds of people: those you like and don’t. You make friends and you get to make war too. Certainly human relations is not all a bed of roses.

That’s the only way to keep well-informed, discerning and discriminating.  At least that’s what I would really like to do.  And you?

Be safe. Be wise. Be enlightened. C’est la vie!

Through the looking glass

i missed my original flight, five days ago.  yes virginia!  so ? 

it’s only now i arrived and i can’t access my own fucking blog since my pwd is on the table top back home.

and no one’s gonna answer the phone, since i’m its only user.  shit! 

so i have to begin a new one.  a new blog with the same name.  this is insane!

here it is my first entry: after checking in outside of manila, i shuttled back in to where the action was.

it was still light.  i came to makati bringing nothing of the state-of-the-art sort from where i came. you don’t need a camera unless you want to dish out propaganda.  you need audio recording for evidence or for boasts.  (a lot of people like to hear their own voice.  nice!)

it was hard to go to where the stage was.  cars, vans and people occupied the street.  i tried walking towards the stage at ayala at the corner of paseo de roxas.  it was the biggest of them all since 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, one should say.

a lot of padres and madres, seminarians and novitiates were walking to and fro.  some were looking at the ground while walking, as if looking for something on the pavement to justify their being at ayala instead of at their rectories or convents or other. perhaps they’re really just that contemplative, you know. 

i seem to have heard someone whispering loudly:  “oy, don’t let that sutana get soiled!  father . . .  (inaudible) . . .  said he wants it back in one piece and it’s an expensive tela!  hala ka!”

the noise from this part near the stage was unbearable.  the sound system was not, not, not, a good one.  it was  truly baaad.  if you used it as a public warning device in a hurricane, no one would understand what you were telling them to do and maybe a whole lot of people would die not knowing what you instructed them. these people in the rally, seemed to understand really good what the shitty sound system shucked in their ears.

they were also responding to the chantings of the speakers onstage and it would appear like everyone that was given a speaking part had real showmanship.  i had to leave the site for a while to allow my ear drums to recover from the onslaught.

i found a starbucks in greenbelt area fronting asian institute of management.  drank coffee.  ogled a very beautiful chiq.  she ogled back.  i smiled.  she got up and walked away but placed her arm on the arm of an ugly male.  ugggh!!! 

after having coffee, i went back to satisfy my curiosity about the rally that back in the states i heard was passionately organized and feverishly pushed by a satanic cult headquartered in new york.  so how must the satanists be doing their job here in the philippines, how far has their reach grown, who are and how big is their following? but this ersatz cult is not the real object of my deeper curiosity, aside from the chiqs i want to visit here.  in new york and london, they’re a dime a piece.  but it’s too scary, you hear, even just mentioning these gremlins.  specially in a blog.  it’s my dear grandpa’s and grandma’s diamond jubilee wedding.  my dad is gone,  he went away just last month. both gramps outlived him.  how sad.

i was dumbstruck when i saw a long-lost relative walking in the direction of that greatly coveted stage.  she, my long-lost cousin, favorite niece of late dad’s, owed me one hundred fifty pesos when we were kids. that was a hell lot of money at the time, considering that now i’m thirty f… ooops!  she never paid.  i cried when dad scolded me instead.  i never really intended to collect now but since she was doing a brisk walk, i sort of ran after her. i did want to reconnect with her.  she’s cute too, you hear?  too bad she entered a roped area with a hand lettered paper signage: 

restricted area. 

beyond the rope, were goons of the first order.  but they smiled with their lips yet their eyes tell you, no one goes through me!  you dumb shit!  i smiled too and backtracked.  you would not want to cross them, mind you.  they had that look of ‘seriosity’ in them, those ogres.  eeeeech! 

so i just contented myself with being where i was and stood there like a swiss guard at the vatican and listened to the speeches.  but it was all nonsense.  pure nonsense.  some pseudo ideological gobbledygook.

these people must be nincompoops to be coming here and listening to these fools talk their mouths away.  don’t they have anything better to do? 

(now that, unfortunately, includes me, because as my mom used to say, i belong to the tribe of the foolish.  i sort of always took that as a compliment.  until my mom said, she really meant what she said with all her heart.  i almost wanted to hate her forever after that.  but you know, moms are almost always right…) 

as usual, tito guingona was there, all bones and skin.  propped up they say by the drugs he’s taking day in and day out.

then there was this cory the tita, the witch who wore a quaint yellow robe around her petite tubercolic body.  she used to mesmerize those like a late secretary turned senator who was greatly hung, my late dad used to say.  there’s this general, he’s now a politician, and she wanted to tempt him too, they say.  she even fantasized having an en grande wedding with him, mmmyyyyy!!!  magggiiine dat!!!

she’s supposed to be in her daily mah jong session, what in heavens name is she doing here in ayala?  how devoted this hag can get in driving a seating president away.  it mustn’t be selos, you know, i really don’t think mike arroyo is that well-hung, which is this witch’s predilection. 

then there is this little boy, jo.  jo binay, not of b’nai brith. he walks with his dad, jo marcelo ejercito a/k/a erap.  he, daddy and uncle, frank drilon, walk arm in arm from a fire station, someone says.  i wonder what the significance of that was?  are they occasional fire men or do-goody volunteers?  emergency rescue boys, the kind they call bantay salakay?  eh he he he he  poor Filipino country, eees on fire, deeem boys want to play fire fighters…  or did they just set the fire by themselves, so themselves can put it out later?  hmmm? 

all those ladies and gentlemen in colors, wow!  a whole lot of colors!  i see the ones with red shirt, someone even had red hair to match. 

and hold on, there’s a lot of money changing hands there.  almost right in front of the philippine stock exchange.  above them, is a sign of sorts, councilor kristina te or kristina te, councilor.  how very symbolic.  it’s market, market fever out there, front a tha stock exchangah!  ah, whatever. 

she’s the commander of the gift giving of that enormous amount of cash.  i wonder if i could also line up there, but i’m not wearing red.  (sigh!)  somewhere deep inside of me, i did wish that kristina te was not just a field commander in charge of donations.  but that she was my wife instead.  uh, wow! 

there are the yellow shirted ones, i think their emblems say they’re university of the adam’s sons or daughters or something.

and green shirted earth babes with la salle emblazoned on their wardrobe.  even their banners were green.  these must be the green minded people. 

but they left, whoa!  where are ye going?  why are ye all leaving?  the party hasn’t even started yet! 

i walked and walked and walked amidst the throng.  i suffered elbows, body odors (new york has a lot of that, too, mind you and it doesn’t fail to disgust me), bad breaths, sprays of sweat, saliva, all that shit when you’re swimming in a sea of the old and the young creatures, male and femme from the twilight zone. 

there was this priestly looking guy arguing with someone with a nameplate that said he was “adel”.  what sort of guy wants to be called adel?  yeeeccch!  must be a transsexual, hmmm? 

then i heard somebody say, ka totoy, ka totoy, pauuwiin ba natin maaga ang mga bata? then ka totoy says to somebody else, apparently not hearing, hoy benjie, yung biyak ko sa 4,000 mo diyan ha?  p#$&@-ina 300 lang yang dala mo!!! what is that?  humor me, please.  can someone tell me what that’s all about? 

then there are the black shirts.  like the ghouls of hitler, worshippers of horus — hitler’s favorite demigod.  their garments have lettering with the word devil or evil in them.  they must be the worshippers of the dark prince, for who else will keep going around town with the despicable name of that hideous creature from hell if that shit doesn’t love that abominable miscreantic flaw of Creation? 

there were also the white shirts.  theirs came from a government vehicle of sorts, with a red plate.  the government automobile came with a sort of blue sports mini van.  it also carried boxes of the white shirts.  they say it’s for giving away to the ones they love.  how wonderful!  and it’s not even christmas!

(to be continued after the next rally)