Like demotivational posters and Katy Perry-Metallica mash-ups, I don’t find it funny anymore. There was nothing remotely cool about Jejemon, after all; it was just one of those interesting incidences of pop culture that makes for a good case study of how popularity can actually kill popular culture. When The Girlfriend and I went to watch Iron Man 2, we were surprised to see one of those Jeje-caps worn properly. Properly. A bit skewed and tilted to the left, but the cap finally molded the contour of the boy’s head. There’s nothing left to be said about Jejemon, except that the bandwagon is just too full for another Jejebuster – or Jeje-supporter – entry that discusses Jejemonology and Jejemoñana. It was good while it lasted. While the sudden surge of popularity for Jejemania was a welcome break from the toxicity of political abracadabra all over the Internet these days, it was just too good to last. It’s getting a bit old, too.
The professional wrestling fan in me is begging to write this post. WrestleMania XXVI is just a couple of days away, and the Granddaddy of Them All is shaping up to be one of the most exciting ones in recent memory. While I’m not a big fan of WWE’s brand of “sports entertainment” (I’m more inclined towards puroresu and independent wrestling), I always look out for WrestleMania. It is, after all, the biggest event for every wrestling fan out there. The build-up to WrestleMania was interesting, although a ten-match card isn’t exactly something I’m happy with. Considering how WWE is marketing its product more along the lines of “sports entertainment” than actual wrestling, this is quite expected. (A few things got me excited about the Hall of Fame this year, though: Antonio Inoki’s induction is a much welcome one, and Maurice “Mad Dog” Vachon is an induction long overdue.) I know the matches are booked and that betting on professional wrestling is like betting on the ending of soap operas, but hey, it’s WrestleMania. Anyway, without further ado, here are my predictions for WrestleMania XXVI.
(Click the image for a larger picture) One of the things that ticked me off this week was the induction of ABBA into the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame. I wouldn’t have minded Genesis – there’s something about Phil Collins’ old band playing in the eight-track cassette players of old Isuzu Gemini taxis that is OK by me – but the induction of ABBA left me seething. Don’t get me wrong: ABBA deserves a recognized place in music for all they have achieved, but as a fan of rock n’ roll, I have problems with ABBA sharing the same place as people who have invented, shaped, and influenced the music that not only reverberates through my ears, but flows through my veins. I do not hold the monopoly of knowledge of what rock n’ roll is, but ABBA is not the first thing that comes to mind.
October 4, 2009 Dear Fellow Communicator in English, In the grand scheme of outsourcing, the language we use is properly termed, “American.” Not that I have anything against the British, but expectations are the order of the day. A call center agent is expected to speak with a southern drawl, and SEO specialists are supposed to write in a more colloquial and conversational way. English is like life; there’s no one way to speak through it, and there’s no one way to write with it. We can agree, however, that some “Englishes” are better than others. I never really paid attention to my English classes; that’s why my English is a bit on the mangled side. I’ll be the first to admit that my English is awkward in many places and would make English (or American) experts immolate in total burnination, but the way I use English is good enough to get me recognition as a “writer” or an “essayist” in some places. I don’t carry a Strunk & White on my way to work, but I always use a bunch of online spell-checkers, and I reacquaint myself with the rules of grammar every now and then. Yes, we all are fellow communicators in English… with varying degrees of suckage.
There are two things I like: odd news and schadenfreude. GMANews.TV reports that last Wednesday, a couple became the talk of the town because of a documented case of penis captivus. You usually read about this malady on humor sites, or you probably watched an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, or you probably saw two dogs literally stuck to each other after the whole hump is over. Sophomoric, crude sources of humor? Probably, but it’s damn sure funny. I’m sure that it’s not funny for any guy to have his penis literally clamped by the vagina of his kerida (hey, that rhymed)… although I’m betting that some guys wouldn’t really mind being stuck in sex for hours on end, never mind that the end we’re talking about is buried in a woman’s private parts. It did get me thinking, though, about how these things lend themselves too well for borderline tasteless, gross, and vulgar humor. So if you’re sensitive or what, if you don’t know what satire is, or if you just keep tossing it around like salads (or a used condom) stop reading right about now.
He styles himself as “The Chairman.” Following Mao, perhaps, or that voiceover dude from “Iron Chef” whose memory always serves him correctly. The edifice at Orense Street stands as a monument to his slogan of “Metro Gwapo,” with footbridges and road barricades and urinals standing as mini-monuments to the magnificence – or perhaps the maleficence – of Bayani Fernando. The Metro Manila Development Authority, at least in my eyes, is The Chairman’s sandbox for urban development; where an elevated U-turn will do no harm, and devoting entire lanes of EDSA to the sheer influx of provincial and colorum and extended-franchise buses will solve traffic. A sandbox. A game; to be exact, the Games of the Chairman.
I love theater, but I can’t act and I certainly can’t sing. I didn’t participate in the theater group back in college, but I did pay my thespic dues in high school. Whether it was a rambling Shylock in The Merchant of Venice, or a ghostly (and ghastly) narrator in a Greek gods pageant, there was no escaping the English class play. If writing and directing the musical version of Prometheus Bound wasn’t enough, I had to play one of the vultures who ate the Titan’s liver as well. Yet enough was enough for our West Side Story presentation: I already rewrote the script and helped direct the first acts of the play. So I guess I can’t be blamed for having to balk on taking on the role of Lieutenant Schrank. Yet in this age of emos and gangstas, a feud between the Jets and the Sharks with all the singing and dancing in the streets of New York would probably fizzle. Like Glad Hand’s hosting talents, or the “soda fountains” at Doc’s store. Heck, kids today probably wouldn’t have heard of West Side Story. This is a shame, since theater’s value is somehow taking a blow in favor of IMAX, pseudo-IMAX, and DVD reproductions. It got me thinking about plays in general. RENT, for example, was (among others) a modern take on Puccini’s La Boheme, although it was more that changing tuberculosis with AIDS and adding a queer element to the more modern setting. Heck, West Side Story itself…
To paraphrase Wilfred Owen: “My friends, you would not tell with such high zest, to fans ardent for that desperate glory / The Old Lie; Dulce et decorum est, pro Stefano Mori.” I’ve been getting quite a lot of comments and e-mails from that Stefano Mori entry I wrote some months back, most of whom are from Borj fangirls. If I were a mega-SEO ratings-happy blogger, I would take consolation in being number #12 on a Google search for “Stefano Mori.” Heck, I’m #1 on a Google image search for “Stefano Mori.” That has to count for something, right? See, there is a market for #stefanomori. Nobody’s looking for Red Sternberg or Bojo Molina, and everybody misses Rico Yan. Yet in terms of “disappearing acts” in Pinoy showbiz, nobody – and I mean nobody – can top the public demand for the return of Stefano Umberto Mori. I suppose I’m better off wasting weekend petiks resources on uncovering the whereabouts of Amanda Page, but the fans must not be disappointed. We all know that Stefano is one-third of JCS with John Prats and Carlo Aquino, but while John and Carlo have been enjoying their runs with showbiz, it seems that Stefano just disappeared from the limelight. Stefano’s last appearance was in 2002’s “I Think I’m In Love,” opposite Joyce Jimenez and Piolo Pascual (his tandem was Nancy Castiglione, I think), and was never heard from again. Unless, of course, someone brings up his name during a conversation. Some theories have…