If there’s anything I like about commutes, it has to be bus movies. When it comes to bus movies, Jason F’n Statham is king.
I will now make a mental note to myself to refer to Jason F’n Statham’s name with the “F’n” modifier.
I don’t know how many times I watched “Transporter 3″ in a bus commute, and for the life of me, I don’t understand the movie. Understanding and critical analysis, however, are irrelevant when you’re watching action flicks. You don’t go about deconstructing an action movie, like say, “David Balondo ng Tondo,” and go about the semiotics of why Ramon Revilla is immune to bullets, and why he uses a bull-whip to beat up drug runners armed with Armalite rifles. Then, years after the literal ass-whipping of the lawless elements of Isla Puting Bato, Revilla’s son, Ramon “Bong” Revilla, Jr., made that smashing, kick-ass, somebody-give-me-a-Jagerbomb-it-was-so-fucking-cool movie known as “Resiklo.”
I can’t disguise my sarcasm well. Hell, even that’s called into question because I take pains to find out what in the hell happened to Lindsay Custodio.
Anyway, back to Jason F’n Statham. “Jason Statham:” now that’s a macho name you’d expect from an action star suffering from male-pattern baldness, but still happens to have chiseled muscles. If Don Lafontaine were alive today, he would have given justice to the awesomeness of Jason Statham’s name. Hey, he did it with Arnold Schwarzenegger in the Terminator franchise: there’s only one way to pronounce Arnold’s surname, and that’s with the guttural, I-smoked-cigars-all-my-life voice of the late voice of every cool, dystopian, post-Apocalyptic action movie trailer known to man.
Oh, there’s nothing wrong with having glasses, except that people call you names like, “Four-Eyes.” Girls won’t go out with you. You’re ostracized by every social group… you can’t swim in them… if you lose them you can’t find them… Oh fishsticks, I depressed myself. I’m gonna go lie down.
- Filburt Shellbach, Rocko’s Modern Life
There’s a big difference between being born to wear glasses, and being born with glasses. While I know that I wore my first pair of glasses when I was in second grade, it seems that I wore glasses all my life.
Me and my parents went off to the optometrist to buy me a new pair of glasses. It seems that I need a new pair: my glasses, which reach up to 300x, are causing me more problems than giving me a clearer view of things. Glasses with that high a grade can get quite expensive, so I had to snivel over to my parents for them to fund the glasses to help me stay employed.
When I was a kid, I wore one of those Coke-bottle glasses that sort of gave me the annoying habit of walking with my head bowed. By the time optometrists and lens-makers figured out a way to make glasses thinner and less prone to breaking, they changed my Coke-bottle glasses, snapped one with a frame with the image of Snoopy, and got taunted for being a nerd.
My vision problems went downhill from there; I became temporarily blind for a time, I have problems discerning color, and I pretty much sleep with my glasses on. Somehow, glasses became (part of) my Dasein.
I suppose that my first year of being a career writer deserves some degree of introspection. However, being just the kind of guy that I am, soul-searching is best left for another day, when:
- I’m not full from one of the best eating experiences I’ve had in a long time (more on that soon);
- I had something to drink, and;
- I’m off to somewhere in a few hours and I have a bout of insomnia.
To celebrate this completely irrelevant historical milestone that means absolutely nothing, allow me to give you your (almost) weekly dose of… you guessed it…
Lyrics translations. A dozen of them.
That sexy beast above is the Bacon Explosion: 5000 heart attack-inducing calories of pure, unadulterated delicious. Two pounds of bacon, two pounds of Italian sausage, seasonings, barbecued and basted to complete and total win. The Wendy’s Baconator, at 840 calories, is a pissant compared to this. Never mind that the Bacon Explosion looks phallic, is semantically and syntactically sexist, and potentially fatal; because everything good in the world is made from bacon atoms, the Bacon Explosion is the next best thing since – and goes great with – sliced bread.
Of course, it’s Lent. You can’t eat a Bacon Explosion, a Baconator, or any form of meat during Ash Wednesday, Good Friday, and all Fridays of Lent, lest you be thrown into a pit of smoldering sulfur and oceans of flame all the rest of the afterlife.
Which means that, among other things, the Whopper I ate last night will just be another reason for me to spend the rest of my life in Hell.
I was browsing through Akismet-ed comments when I found a rather interesting snippet in the form of spam:
Funny how blogs, websites, and basically all online activity are ruled by SEO. Search Engine Optimization has become the 2nd god of the internet.
Funny, really. I’m not really into tech and all, so I don’t know a lot about search engine optimization. I may be using SEO, but I’m quite lazy when it comes to tags, metatags, and I haven’t installed the All-In-One SEO pack for this particular WordPress installation. I don’t consciously use SEO tactics, I don’t make money out of my blog, and the most I do is generate and provide content.
I’m not “anti-SEO” in the sense that I think that “blogging should remain pure,” or that “people should not make money out of blogs.” Like any form of writing, blogging is impure to begin with (more on that when I feel like it). Besides, many people already generate a nifty income (perhaps bigger than my salary) because of blogging.
My “philosophy” when it comes to online writing and/or blogging (the terms are not synonymous, more on that when I feel like it) is that machines and search engines don’t read online content: people do.
Let’s deal with matters of great importance.
All I’d like to say is, if you want to look like Boy Abunda , go to Calayan. But if you want to look like Dingdong Dantes and Piolo Pascual, come to Belo.
- Vicky Belo, Showbiz Central, February 22, 2009
Vicki, if you are watching, alam mo kahit kailan, hindi ako namuhunan sa gandang panlabas dahil wala ako noon. Alam mo, namuhanan ako ng sipag, tiyaga, dasal. At Vicky, wala akong ilusyong maganda, wala akong ilusyon. Pero wala din sinuman ang may karapatang manlait sa aking pagkatao.
- Boy Abunda, Showbiz News Ngayon, February 23, 2009
The Other looks at me and as such he holds the secret of my being, he knows what I am. Thus the profound meaning of my being is outside of me, imprisoned in an absence. The Other has the advantage over me… I can turn back upon the Other so as to make an object out of him in turn since the Other’s object-ness destroys my object-ness for him.
- Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness
Hmmm… no, this is not an “ugly-uglier-ugliest” series of pictures.
Let me turn the jargonator on. My brain is a bit hyperactive from cigarette deprivation.
Over dinner last night, the conversation with Caffeine Sparks, MLQ3 and JV Rufino ended up on a discussion on the “resurgence” of John Kenneth Galbraith. Back in college, I borrowed a yellowing copy of Galbraith’s The Affluent Society for reading purposes (I didn’t read a lot of fiction), and was rather intrigued that nobody read the book since it was last borrowed somewhere in 1982. From what I can remember of Galbraith: poverty, inequalities, and income disparities in the United States after World War II banks on the conventional wisdom of the haves and the have-nots. The rich grow richer in the private sector, and this stands in stark contrast of the poverty of the public sector.
If my memory serves me right, it was Galbraith who (re-)introduced the world to the ideas of Thorstein Veblen’s “leisure class.” While no economist worth his or her own salt will be caught dead invoking ideas like “conspicuous consumption” or “barbarism” today, it does make you think; if there’s any good explanation for Starbucks and window-shopping, you have to read Veblen.
So what seems to be a “so last century” study and “obsolete” explanation of social inequalities, what has been relegated to the back rows of libraries, is now becoming vogue. This is interesting…