The Ultimate Reality TV Show

Monday, July 31, 2006

Japanese people think of the weirdest shit. From birthing the first commercial mascot derived from bacteria many many years ago (Shirota Strain character of Yakult) to producing lap pillows that simulate sleeping using a woman's thighs as cushion (see picture) to introducing the amazing weirdness that is the talking toilet (so you dont have to have somebody on the next cubicle yammering about what he ate), no other country has provided constant weirdness in a volume enough to satisfy the world's annual requirement three times over.

And the rest of the world just have to follow suit to be able to compete. In this aspect, the Japanese have been constant revolutionaries, pioneers ahead of their time.

Take television shows for example. Back in the mid 80's the gameshows Americans had on TV concerned them themselves with spinning wheels, guessing letters, and oh yes the extreme sport of guessing how much a commodity costs with enough adrenaline to make a seasoned sailor wet his pants faster than a sexually-transmitted disease.


It was all indoor games and shit for the rest of the world during the eighties.

And Japan?

Fuck that. They were so far ahead with their televised weirdness, while we were watching people in suits, they were ruling over reality TV already. For all the weirdness of the Japanese, they have produced what could easily be the father of all reality TV shows (who probably didnt father the rest that came after it but could be called so for the sake of argument nonetheless).

What am I talking about?

Oh come one. Cut the shit. You know it.


Oh yeah!! Now we're connecting eh pendejo? I remember it like it was yesterday. IBC-13 would show Takeshi's Castle and I wouldn't miss and episode of it for a funeral (we even watched it during grandmother's wake) interrupted only by Sakanami Fish Snacks and Snaku! Commercials. I still love Snacku for it's association with shows I loved as a kid - God I hate genius marketers.

Anyway, I think it was after watching my first episode that I learned what I wanted to do in life: Make people go through shit only to have them shot by my overpowered tank towards the end of their struggles. Then I make fireworks shoot out of my unconquered castle just to spite anybody who dreamed to win. Damn, my dreams ruled when I was kid.

See, that's whats cool about Takeshi's castle. Unlike sports or those TV game shows where somebody always wins no matter how stupid the contestants get, Takeshi, Ishikura and the rest of the badass TC crew are not interested in fairplay and shit like that. All they needed to do was make somebody win against odds and tell the rest "if he can do it, it should be fair enough for the rest of you."

So what you get every episode is 100 contestants who try to kick takeshi ass only to get whooped 96% of the time (I mean, when was the last time you saw somebody win?) I saw one person actually destroy the paper target of takeshi once. But he had to climb out of his tank just to be able to destroy it. He got disqualifed and still didnt win.

The odds of winning the contest is more or less equivalent to taking a shit and seeing feces that looks like Tom Jones - which is to my knowledge damn near impossible (since no shit is ever shitty enough for that musician).

So there's got a problem there right? I mean what good is a contest where nobody wins? Easy. It's a lot like Nascar with circular tracks (like the Taladega super highway track) the contest itself is so boring the only reason people watch it is to wait for cars to crash so they can yell "I'm glad I'm not in that twisted piece of metal shit!" and not actually care about who won. It's the Jerry Springer Talkshow equivalent of sports.


For Takeshi's castle hardly anybody ever wins. But that's the thing. To the Japanese, winning isnt everything. In fact, winning isnt even important. SEEING PEOPLE GET FUCKED (figuratively) ON CAMERA IS. It's the entertainment value. Winning begets envy. Envy is not fun. Seeing people get hosed down, shot, trampled, beaten up by 9 foot tall giants is fun.

You get 100 people getting screwed over for an hour every week. That's slightly more entertainment than a 7 president battle royale (and only if theyre doing it in sumo outfits across 5 colored rings).

That's why everytime I watch reality TV nowadays, I just look back to the glorious days of Takeshi's Castle and say, "this challenge would've been a lot more entertaining with plastic cannonballs being shot at the contestants while crossing a shit narrow suspension bridge with no balancers". When the bar of excellence has been raised so early in life, other shows living up to the challenge becomes a futile exercise.

Bring back television shows that rule so we dont end up raising pussies for children who turn emo like good bread growing stale.

And I know you're feeling mighty nostalgic right now so I brought a surprise for you. It's a scene from the magical fairy pond where rocks magically attached themselves to groins and chins like magnet.

God I missed this. I think it's time I got back on track to my real dream. I want my own castle my own tank and lots and lots of people to screw over just because they cling on to a faint glimmer of hope.


Carparks and Cosplays

Sunday, July 30, 2006

I was at a Cosplay Contention today. In case you dont know what that is, that's an event similar to Halloween except it's not time for Halloween and instead of people dressing up as scary monster characters, you get people dressing up as scary japanese anime/videogame character impersonations. And by scary, I mean my-eyes-are-scarred-
for-life-at-the-sight scary.

Dont get me wrong though, I love going to cosplays. There are finer sights, and you can see some people put effort into what they're doing. But when you see shitsalads like what I posted here, you just get discouraged, like how taste gets bland after you gargle clorox. Poison doesnt mix well with a multi-course meal, period.

Anyway, after tiring from making snide remarks about bad cosplays and making things pretty much entertaining despite the series of tragedies that are out-of-place cosplays, I finally got hungry. I took a group of my sister' s friends and drove to a nearby restaurant strip with pay carparking. I was hauling with me 3 cosplayers in a group of five. Suffice to say, just being in such a place was weird. At those moments in life, you begin reconsidering what you've done to come to that point - by point I mean scene of great embarassment.

After the meal, I realized that my carpark stub was missing. That stub is meant to prevent stupid people from taking the wrong car and for bad people from doing stupid things like knowing the car is yours and taking it anyway. And I lost it. I know, I know, stupidity must be infectious, I'm surrounded by so much of it, slight transfusion is inevitable no matter how many times I scrub in the morning.

So I headed for the exit and told the ticket lady that I lost it. She promptly charged me eighty pesos, to my surprise. I'm not surprised at the price, it's not that high, regular parking in certain places tend to be more expensive.

What ticked me off is how casually she treated the situation. Are the people eating at that food strip that dumb that they lose tickets so often she just got used to it and forgot why the stub was there in the first place? I tried to think positively for a change. It cant be like that.

So I ask, "Aren't you going to check for the registration of this car?"

Guess what she replied.

"No need. It always happens around here anyway, sir."

Shit. People are becoming too defective. Too defective to have kids. We're doomed, as with the future generations. Nonetheless, I went on with our little talk.

"What if this isn't my car?"

And then she replied probably what could be the equivalent of the letter R in a multiple choice question with answers ranging from A-D.

R is for retarded.

"You guys dont look suspicious."

Not suspicious? There's a girl dressed in a japanese highschool uniform riding shotgun. A girl in a guy's clothes at the back. A set of replica daggers, wigs, props and all, enough for a full-stage school play with the rest of the group. And we're STILL not suspicious?

Well blow my ass and call it rimjaw.

I figured I was wasting my time and IQ points by continuing the talk. So I just nodded and said "Right, normal as a gay parade in the Vatican." and paid the bill.

You can't put the price on stupid.

I love cosplays but I hate stupid cosplayers.

Paid carparks are cool as long as I'm not paying for idiots.

Terrorism and Alcohol

Saturday, July 29, 2006

I was sitting on the couch in front of the TV watching random chinese variety shows when I got to thinking about world peace, mainly because I'm heroic like that. Also, because I was getting tired of switching to BBC and CNN and always seeing any of three things:

- Dead People
- Bush/Rice/Blair in front of a mic looking like douchebags
- mud huts being blown up.

Why do they even bother using large ordinance bombs to destroy those things anyway? When I was a kid I just used a pail of water to destroy anything made of mud. Screw the Israeli Defense Force bombings, get Jack and Jill rolling. A pail of water will get shit stirring there like a priest in preschool.

Anyway so there I was thinking. Thinking. Why are these people fighting? I thought about the expats and how they can always think of all the things that could cause the problems of Filipinos. Maybe, just maybe, because I'm from another timezone, I can also do that to people I dont know, or care about for that matter and solve the damn problem like my self-righteous pricks-for-idols from America.

So I started building my road to peace.

First what's the problem? Arabs all mad and shit because they feel theyre being oppressed by both Israel and its western Allies. (I'm not saying theyre not). So they strap shit that blow up on themselves and go cornholio on the jews. That ain't right!

I get mad sometimes too but I dont think you can get me mad (read: stupid crazy) enough to blow myself up. Why?

Is it because I'm Christian? No. Remember the Ku Klux Klan White Supremacist bitches are supposed to be Christian too but they're just as crazy.

Is it because I'm Filipino? No. Remember the time somebody tried to take the NAIA Control Towers and threatened to blow it up without any real reason? Those crazy assholes were ready to blow themselves up too.

What do I have that the angry arabs dont? Pork? I'm sure they're better off not eating cholesterol-power-bombs. They're already that mad and they havent even got hypertension yet. I'm thinking pork + angry arabs + radical islam = END OF THE WORLD.

Ah! Then I finally have thought of it. The solution to all the problems in the middle east.


Rememeber that it is a rule of Islam to not take any spirits because it's evil. On the other hand, I have a rule to not refuse any offered alcohol because it's rude. Think about it.

If I have problems, I drown it with a case of beer then I get wasted. I don't think I'll be able to blow any shit up when I'm Gin Bulag*. Hell, I'd be lucky if I don't blow my gastric load just trying to get off my seat. The following morning, I wake up with a really bad hangover, I'd be feeling too bad to think of anything bad.

Conversewise, think of the middle east where it's fucking hot and pederasty (anal sex between men) is legal. You live in a mudhut with 12 relatives who are named like each other and you bet your sandy ass not everybody will be able to wash more than twice a week.

Then you dont even have alcohol.

Thinking between being group roasted with my family like lechon manok**, stinking like hell, without a drop of alcohol in years, running around with explosives in my hand wouldn't be such a bad idea. In fact, running around wearing only explosives to cover your ass sounds mighty cool.

So now it all makes sense. These people just need beer. If they had their own saint (e.g. San Miguel, Ginebra) They'd probably not be as ornery too. The worst they can ever do is have a bar brawl, in which case, CNN doesnt need to be there. Unless it's Sharon and one of Arafat's children doing it because, fuck, Sharon is supposed to be comatose aleady. I can tell the odds will be bad for him.

I say instead of showering them with bombs or pails of water, throw in kegs of beer and beer-making equipment. The beer will introduce them to what it means to be fuck wasted and the beer-making will be for what George Bush refers to as "long term solutions".

If angry teenagers had those things, they'd be making Pales instead of Whachamakalita rockets that rarely hit anything they're not aiming for anyway. Make beer and it will always be a sure hit (In Filipino, lakas tama) Viva la alcoholismo!

Drunk people may not always be happy people, but they sure will be incapable of doing big shit while in a tipsy state. I mean, when was the last time there was news of a drunk ass person hijacking anything or blowing himself up? None.

No more coordinated violence = peace.

So there you have it. I should be part of UN Security Council.

Scratch that.

I should be the UN Security Council.

(*blackout drunk from drinking)
(**road-roasted chicken)
(Inspired by Scott Adam's thoughts on Airconditioning and Radical Thinking)

To The Good Guys

Here is a toast to the good guys. The good guys who know they're going to finish last but do so anyway.

To that time you gave away that sentimental guard to somebody who got hacked. You knew he needed it more than you did and you're right. This is for the time you helped out the hacked person, despite previous differences. Despite rivalry. Here's to you!

For all those time you spent helping out characters of the same and opposite gender without hesitation or discrimination, even though you know the character youve been helping thinks he's being helped because he's using a female account, cheers to you. Cheers to the time you saw that same female character being played by a guy, but played along anyway without a trace of rage in your heart.

I salute you for that time you got defeated in PvP by a peer who had started later than you but called it a good fight still. Here's to your complacency in what you do despite the knowledge that that guy is a botter and has gotten his strength by cheating.

Here is the grand cheer for refusing to give in to the temptation of cheating back to rival the cheaters who make this game needlessly overcompetitive. That you see less output for your works but will be able to honestly say it's been yours.

For all those loots you shared with your priest companion. For the rares you've gladly split even for your party mates. For playing fair in the MVP hunting grounds.

Here's to the day you corrected somebody's vendprice without buying it. Cheers to each and every time you said please and thank you while talking to other players. To the time you walked away from a fight. To the time to you fought and not walked away.

A grand toast to all you my friends, that in knowing there's nothing but lies in what the adults tell us. Here's to believing that cheating is cheating no matter how many people are doing it and not heeding what sour words of wretchedness would tell otherwise. Here's to not comprimising with crooked policies and corrupted laws. Smile, for your principles unscathad shall be priceless in life. Smile, for you shall not wither away in decay for submitting to what is morally unjust in exchange for survival.

Let this be the ode for you because though your kind is rarely seen, you are the type that makes playing this game still worthwhile. You give life to what is already dead. You bleed so that this game will be tolerable for the sentimental.

I have shared my time with you. And you have all but a bretheren's respect.

Here's to you, the good guys. The good guys who know they're going to finish last but do so anyway.

You'll have your time. And I guarantee you it will be worth it.


I thought this was lost already, but I've managed to get another copy thanks to a very good friend who saved it for me. I originally wrote this for Ragnarok Online Players. I owe you one RG.

Urban Legends 101

Friday, July 28, 2006

For the past few days, I've been conducting certain experiments on the net how to make people blindly follow a concept, object, or belief as efficiently as possible. So after a few days of deliberation (translation: drinking lots of alcohol along with fatty foods) I've created a simple guide for just that. Submitted for the approval of the midnight society, I call this article:

The Tale of The Tale of Bullshit

Okay, so the title needs a bit of revising. Let's do that later.


The success of creating any following, urban legend, religion, cult, fan club or anything that requires a leap of faith or blind assumption will rely basically on a single premise:

People Are Gullible Toads.

Have that settled? Good. Now why did I say that? Easy. Because they are. I'll show you an example of creating an urban legend. This one, we created in Ragnarok Online.

Step 1: Look for a creative venue for the legend. Make sure everybody can relate to it.

For our case, it's Ragnarok Online (an online game). At the time my friend and I thought of messing with people, Philippine RO was just a few months old - people didn't know the game all too well. So that's 20 thousand plus potential believers then and there. The more people who will be able to relate, the more people who can believe. This gave us enough room to implement our plan.

Step 2: Think of a legend that is a step away from the truth. The more confirmable truths there is to a legend the better.

Just because people are gullible doesnt mean they wont make an effort to check the plausibility of something you shove down their throats. The presence of familiar, confirmed things can easily disarm the reasoning of any fool, and it doesnt even have to be directly related to your legend. You can make them think "There indeed water in the loch ness, therefore there must be a water monster inside it." You just have to be creative enough.

For our case, we created chatlogs as a form of medium. It's something players often encounter, generated by the Ragnarok Game to save conversations and actions ingame. While it's just plaintext and can be easily be edited, it was common assumption that it's always generated by a computer. Familiar, veritable (well, to idiots anyway) - easy.

Step 3: Make sure the lie is big/fantastic enough.

I dont know why but the bigger the prank, the easier it is to make people believe. Perhaps people think "This is too audacious to be a trick" or "Nobody would dare do this" instinctively and then take the bait and chow down hook, line, sinker, and fisherman's friend in a festival of fellatio.

Then there's the aspect of fantasy. Let's face it. We live boring lives. Unless you happen to live in a warzone, the robohooker factory, or a stripclub basement, life will be boring. And if it's not boring, chances are you are in so much danger, entertainment will be the last of your worries.

What's the point?

It's not people believe ridiculous things; It's that they WANT to believe in an attempt to break out of the doldrum cycle that is their shitty lives. Aside from being naive fools people are, they are also selfish bastards who want a fun life for themselves. And in trying to get that, they end up swallowing plastic apples - apples you yourself have made for them.

For our case, we created the idea of a ghost, a wraith of a dead player, still playing in Ragnarok Online. Sure, you say, people aren't asshats, they dont want to see ghosts. True, true. They're scared of the idea. But they want to believe that there are ghosts. They just dont want to see them, like the way people want to say one of the Spice Girls is a man, but they dont want to see her flaunting his wang inside an issue of PlayBoy.

A ghost in a game. It makes things interesting doesnt it? The fact that the game can be used from the other world? And the player you could be playing with could be a dead person. It's so fantastic when you think about it. It's perfect.

Remember, the world will never run out of believers if you know how to tug their strings - people who want to believe in anything but themselves.

Step 4: Spin The Origin

Every story has a beginning. For your case, it would be to the best of things if the origin doesnt exist. Either that or it's "from the friend of aunt of my father who used to date this surgeon general from the military".

You're smiling right now. That line sounds familiar eh? It's boilerplate already for legends. But you have to step it up a notch. This is the part where you have to lie your best. With origin lies credibility with credibility, believability, with believability the overall lifespan of the legend.

It's always better if you make it appear it came from a credible source. People tend to love that, not caring if it DID come from the credible source. So you make advantage of that.

For our case, we used the idea that the chatlogs of the ghost came from another friend who used to work for Level Up!, publishers of the game. While nobody for a second thought that that doesnt even give him any more right to be able to furnish such logs, the association with the publishers is enough to satisfy them.


So there you have it. You have all the factors of the legend. All you have to do now is let it rip somewhere and watch it spread faster than AIDS in a group of homosexuals.

Remember, not all people will believe you. In fact, only the most zealous will cling on to your legend at first. But by the power of trust, people who trust the initial advocates will be have their doubts replaced by the fact that they are no longer alone in believing, even if their companions are the most gullible people on the planet. It'll be a ripple effect, and soon enough even the doubters will start doubting themselves because it's a fact that people refuse to believe that idiots outnumber rational thinkers and would often blame themselves instead for being different.

Thinking man: "Why am I the only one seeing this? Is there something wrong with me?"
Thinking man after a while: "Okay, I'll just pretend that I believe too, it's getting lonely here."

Thiking man renounces the "Thinking".

For our case, we placed the logs on a message board midnight and went to sleep. By noon the following day, the thread had grown 12 pages in less than 12 hours - the fastest growing thread at that time. People were starting to believe and there's still believers and potential believers up to now - a good three years after.

As a final remark I would say Charlatanism (what we are doing here) is a sin to one's self since no act of mass deception has ever been 100% successful, and will oftentimes spell doom for those who start such movements (since people easily get bored. Discontented people tend to think more rationally against things they dont want) I would advice that if you are to try this yourself, make sure you know what you're entering.

When we made the ghost logs, we made sure nobody would get offended or hurt, because it was all meant as a practical joke. Remember, if somebody goes broke, gets injured, dies, or gets pregnant - it' s no longer a joke.

It's a felany.

Ask for the moon. You'd be surprised how often you will get it.

Colors and You

Thursday, July 27, 2006

You must be wondering why I asked about the color of the top bulb in a traffic light two days ago. In case you answered red, you're right. In case you answered green, stay out of the road. In case you answered blue - don't have kids. We have to nip that seed of retardation in the bud.


You might have problems with colors. And it's even possible *gasp* that you're not retarded, just biologically defective, in which case you are still not allowed to have kids, but will be allowed to continue existing - at least until you do something stupid enough to garner you the dunce hat factory's monthly quota.

Anyway, to be a bit more scholarly about it, a lot of people have problems with colors. There are some people who see everything in black and white. Still there are those who see certain letters with colored fonts, as documented by the American Psychological Association. (while the test subjects for these studies by the APA could be nothing more than lying bastards, I bet it's entertaining enough watching them bluff their way into and out of day to day experiments that probably involve anal probing) These types of color recognition problems stem from the brain's locus of introspection of the color data being sent by your eyes. While it is only normal to have problems distinguishing the names of colors using the left brain and the actual recognition of the right, some people mess up so badly, they end up eating crayons during kindergarten out of frustration.

Here is a simple test that proves the theory. For the love of God, don't flunk this.

The idea of the test is very simple. Use context switching via concentration to make sure the right locus of your brain is doing the analysis of the data at hand to get the right answer. If you cant do that, that means you have problems coordinating various sections of your brain, meaning you have to go use it more every now and then (how? THINK.)

Anyway, the next type of color recognition problem is actual color blindness. Originaly diagnosed by John Dalton, color blindness comes from a hereditary flaw that prevents the proper photoreception of the eyes of certain colors, in essence making them not learn what certain colors look like apart from other colors. 20% of the male population surprisingly have this problem, which is probably the reason why condoms are not color coded.

When I was doing my thesis, we conducted a simple eye exam for every member in the team. Out of the four in our group, turns out I'm the only normally sighted person, ironically, I'm the only person who wears glasses. (And no, the glasses have nothing to do with color blindness)

To think I hitched rides from them. Hahahahaha fuck. I should sue them for endangering my life.


Anyway, there's a quick way of testing for color blindness. It's called the Ishihara Color Blindness Test. And since I know right now you're curious already if youre color blind or not, I've provided for a simple page that will test if you are indeed color blind. If in case you flunk it, don't worry, you can still be my friend (with exceptions)

Getting a score with more than five mistakes means you are red-green or blue-yellow colour blind. But dont worry. One out of five men are suffering from the conditions as you. Just be aware of the problem and create a workaround because to date, there is no cure for mental incapacity (it's classified under this condition so screw it)

So now you know the basics of color. Go forth and not multiply.

Public Static

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

I've been getting questions from people lately about the name of this site AND my general profile handle "redkinoko". So, as part of my exercise for perfect arrogance, I even dedicated an entire post just for explaining those two things (and for you people to quit bugging me about it with me ending up copy pasting the same explanation over and over again.)

First, Redkinoko. Redkinoko is actually two words. Red and Kinoko, the latter being japanese for mushroom. I first heard of the word kinoko one night while watching a japanese channel. I said to myself wow kinoko...shrooms... wow (I swear, I wasnt stoned when this happened) and decided to attach "red" to it because red mushrooms are cool. Ask Mario and Luigi, they use 'em to make themselves higher all the time, if you catch my drift.

I originally used Redkinoko to name a certain pet spider with a bright red body and one helluva bloodlust - not that spiders have lots of blood. It had a good record too, 6 wins, 0 losses until it died from ant carrion when I accidentally left its matchbox house outside one night.

At that time, I was using another callsign. A few run-ins with shady net folk made me change my username. Anyway, the spider died but the name was too uhh interesting to discard. Since dead things dont need names, I got the name instead and renamed the spider Mr. Krinkles. Im sure he likes it that way too.

So there. Redkinoko.

Next, Public Static.

Public Static is actually part of Java object programming. It's how you say "This object is available for everybody but it cannot be duplicated." Being a Java programmer (this one should be obvious by now), I thought it would be cool to have something related to my field for a title rather than just going with pretending to be deep shit blog titles like "Dark Thoughts" "Sempiternal Ranter" or "The Box of Dreams". Actually, it's not the first name I used on this site - after a while it got tiring to change the BlogTitle and URL every week so I stuck with the last one I made, which turned out to be the most apt one as well.

God I hate lazy people.


In case you're not sleeping yet - I take it you're still awake because you can read this, I observed strange referrals in my blog logs lately (Bloglogs! hahaha that sucks) that are worth noting. Referrals, in case you dont know what they are, are indicators that tell me where you clicked a link of my site from or if you just typed it out using the uRL bar in the browser. You can check blogmeter at the right side of this page to see what I saw. Anyway, I found rather weird ones today when I checked, both of which came from google.

First weird reference:
Clicked Public Static from

As it turns out, my page appears first when looking for Kris Aquino wallpapers in google. Pity that. He was expecting to see a halfnaked kris to put into his desktop, I give him enlightenment in the way only Public Static can deliver - with a bucketload of bullshit. So is that a good thing or a bad thing? He stayed on the site for a few seconds, so I take it he didnt like what he saw.

Tasteless human.

Second weird reference:
Clicked Public Static from

Is there anything in my site that spells "wretched human fancies" anywhere? Do I put porn here? no. Do I promote devil worship? No. Did I make a haven for Cueshe fans? Hell no.

Given those answers, I'd take it my site is clean and wholesome. BUT NO. A quick search of some sick bastard looking for "Maggots Eating Flesh" MPEG yields my SITE as the best match. WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU GUYS? (lemme do it again hahahaha) How do you relate maggots eating flesh with my writings? Gaah.

And who in the sickest circles of hell logs on to the greatest repository of knowledge known to modern man and thinks "Hmmm I think I want to see corpses slowly being eaten by maggots today. Those things turn me on."? That has got to be the sickest fetish I've heard of.


My faith in mankind has fallen to an all time low.

I think it's time to give the spiders a chance at evolution.

Traffic Lights

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Traffic lights have been around for a long time. Since 1923, these lights on the road have been keeping road-related idiocy to a comfortable minimum. Simple, effective - genius.

But what if the very idiots the lights are trying to keep away from accidents become the ones in charge of the stop lights? And say for the sake of argument, these same assholes suddenly get concentrated in one spot, say the city of Manila, and happened to live in the same era as me? And say in this argument of mine, I'm not really making a hypothetical scenario? What if the idiots are real?

That's right bitches.

They're here. They're retarded. And they're here to stay. Roadtards turn traffic management into witchdoctor science. And we're all closer to death because of their incompetence.

Retarded Traffic Solution #1: The Flash Bang Traffic Light
Location: Pedro Gil corner Mabini, Malate, Manila

I dont know how many people at the Traffic Enforcement Group got dropped as kids but this has got to be the most retarded traffic light in the world. Have you ever watched a movie where the hero has to pass through a flaming booby trap where the flame jumps every 2 seconds and the only way the hero can go through is if he jumped through that time interval?

Will I guess it also happens in real life, except replace the flaming booby trap with "intersection" and flame with "incoming traffic". Uhuh. Green lights for two seconds.


A flash bang grenade could last longer. That's about the same time as a normal driver stepping on the clutch, shifting to first gear, slowly releasing the clutch and stepping on the gas pedal. Who thought of this shit? And it's not like a lot of cars are passing through the adjacent road! In fact, the road was near empty save for a few jeepneys.

As a result, only two cars can pass through the intersection every five minutes - and only if they burn their wheels beforehand, and only if no retarded pedestrian blocks the way of the car when they try to "push their luck". When it's your turn, you stare at the lights and wait for it to "flash green" then you put the pedal to the metal and pray you make it across.

It's revolutionarily retarded. Sometimes I begin to consider walking just so I can avoid acts of idiocy like this.

Retarded Traffic Solution #2: The Disco Traffic Light
Location: Pedro Gil corner Bocobo, Malate, Manila

Have you tried playing stop dance? That's basically what theyre doing to this stop light, except you're in a car and the disco is a busy intersection. There are cops at the other end with their hands on the traffic light switch. It's like the first case but this time, the time isn't fixed to to seconds. It can go red anytime (I have a hunch the light skips the yellow LED as well) .

If you cross the intersection fast enough, the police will turn the lights to red and voila! Instant traffic violation with you appearing to be the reckless idiot. Then they'll be asking for redtape, which is halfway close to a rape in the ass when it comes to offer price.

Thinking of running these assholes over give me orgasms all the time. Screw traffic safety, all these idiot coppers want are money and the devil's penis up their fat hide when they die and go to hell (where it's always GO - up their arses for all eternity)

Retarded Traffic Solution #3: Green is for Retarded
Location: Dakota, Vito Cruz, Manila

So you're driving along the intersection and see a green light. You proceed without stopping since it's a green. A few moments later, BAM! A jeep hits your side, because he didn't see you coming from the adjacent road. Driver comes out of the jeep, you come out of your car. He argues it's his turn in the road. But you saw what you saw. The lights were distinctly traffic light green. Then you take a second look.

You then realize youve just been fucked by the world's worst Traffic Engineers.

You weren't seeing things. The light was indeed green. But you were staring at the wrong light. There's a GREEN LIGHT Lamp Post beside a shit-small traffic light, emitting the same color as a go signal.

And you check the rest of the streets. Everything has the same color - GREEN GO SIGNAL colour. Is it the twilight zone? No. People at the city hall are just lacking iodine and a few pairs of chromosomes.

Last thing I want to do is to have to listen to idiots about what I should be doing. Well traffic lights tell me what to do, and unfortunately for these cases, the idiots are telling what the lights are supposed to do.

Some people are much more beneficial to motorists and pedestrians alike if they just become roadkill.

Here's a curious question, slightly out of topic but interesting nonetheless. What colour is on top of the traffic light? Red or Green?

True Merit of A Woman

Sunday, July 23, 2006

So what is the true merit of a woman nowadays? Is it the looks, the career, the values, or the financial status? I have no f''ing idea really, but I'm much closer to finding out after today.

So there we were, my mom, two sisters, and me, at the storm-friendly Mall of Asia (read: Storms can get in and out of the mall as easily as customers) to eat dinner, buy a couple of items, and hear mass at the nearby Shrine of The Infant Jesus. The dinner was okay. The buying of items was okay.

But there was a problem. A very big problem.

There's a storm outside and the church is 200 meters away from the mall, with nothing but vacant lot and roads between. Quite frankly if it were up to me, I'd have stayed inside the mall and let the rain stop first. It was already 645pm , the last mass was 7pm so that means just not hearing mass for that week.

When we got to the stretch of vacant lot that leads to the church, it was raining furiously already. I joked them with "Can't we just go confess about it next time?" The joke didn't sell of course. They were hellbent in braving the devil's winds.

I started complaining. It's an immutable law that the slightest of drizzles can make me feverish the following day. I complained about how I needed to go to our new office tomorrow, that I can't risk my health knowing I've heard the same gospel at least once every three years.

My two sisters didn't mind me as they started off in their own umbrella. My mom just smiled as she opened hers. She probably knew I was just making excuses because I'm too lazy for Sunday service (though I always attend anyway) We'll take the path beside the iron walls of the SMX construction site, she said, that's enough to shield us from the rain. What the hell, thought I. But I suppose I can always go to the office with or without the fever.

So I went with them.

And it was effective for a while, the walls kept the diagonal rain brought by strong bay winds from hitting us hard - at least until the wall made of galvanized roofing stopped halfway through the vacant lot. Then it was just us, the flimsy umbrellas, and the rapist-of-a-storm.

The umbrella didn't help protecting us from the rain flowing diagonally with the wind. It was coming from right to left, and I was standing at the right.

Goodbye sick leave.

Then, my mom said, "Let' switch places for a while, my arm is getting numb from holding the umbrella." I knew that wasn't the real reason. But knowing my mom, I'd rather not say anything about it.


She shielded me from the rain with her body knowing I absolutely must be in the office tomorrow morning, reasoning out that she wasn't getting wet, and if she did look like it, it was just that the cloth of her blouse was easy to change color with moisture (uhuh).

You should've seen it. A 22-year old guy being hugged by his mom who intentionally exposed her back against the cold rain just so her son can get to Church dry. I asked her to just let me get wet, but she just shrugged of my suggestion as she would any other discouragement she gets for doing charity.

That's one good thing about the rain, it's easy to disguise tears.

Then and there I decided. If I take a wife, I'll take a wife who can be like this to my kids - a true mother who makes goodness as natural as breathing. It's a tough requirement to fill, but far from impossible.

We celebrated mass, with my pants wet and my mom even more drenched. Funny thing though was that I haven't felt that warm in years. And though I almost hardly pray already, I made sure to thank whoever is listening for the best gift I never had to ask for.

The gift of being son to the best mother in the world.

If You're Not A Pirate, Stop Saying Y'arr.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

(alternate title: If you're not a subject expert of a particular movie STFU)

I finally got to see Pirates of The Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest today. It's the first time I've watched any movie in a normal theater in quite a while. Expectedly enough, I was reminded of the things I hate when watching movies in theaters as soon as the film started rolling.

By things I hate, I mean all assholes who can't keep their coffeeholes shut during the film, making dimwitted remarks and tragically obvious predictions. By the end of the movie, I said to my friend who I was watching with "Is it that hard to understand a movie intended for kids so badly that you have to make stupid comments everytime something that requires mental thinking more advanced than being able to breathe?" She was surprised at my comment. My pointdexter seatmate who had been lecturing movie semantics to people as far as three seats away from her knew what I was trying to say. She promptly kept quiet fearing for her life. Unfortunately her cooperation was two timezones short. Oh how I wanted to kick her teeth in. The very thought is giving me a hardon.

If I want to watch a movie with commentaries, I'd buy the original DVD and do it at the comfort of my couch. The last thing I want is somebody questioning the plot just because she can't get "why the *spoiler item* is missing from the jar".

Enough of that, let's talk about what got her riled up in the first place.

The following section contains spoilers. I dont want to spoil it for you not beause I care for your enjoyment but because I hate whining assholes posting mindlessly about it after they willingly read content in my blog.

I think the whole addition of Bootstrap Bill in Dead Man's Chest is an answer to a problem in the original Pirates Of The Caribbean: Curse of The Black Pearl movie.

If you remember your movies, Bootstrap Bill resisted the Black Pearl Mutiny after the cursed gold was already distributed, and got promptly sent to the bottom of the ocean as dead. But since he's a a part of the damned crew that played with the gold, he's supposed to be a the bottom of the ocean but still living because of the curse - it's AWKWARD because it plays with the fact of being able to resist crushing pressure of the depths of the sea, and if he was indeed immortal, he could have just walked to land and live. Either that or he's a puddle of shit on the ocean floor when Davey Jones found him, which is equally awkward for a plot device.

Note that this wasn't intended to come out the way it appeared since there was no mention of the Bootstrap Bill scenario in the first film, meaning the only reason Bootstrap's fate carried on the way it did because Bootstrap being Will Turner's father played too important a role to be fixed. It would have cost too much in production modification.

Besides, if it's indeed an intended plot connector for the first movie, Bruckheimer would have made it more obvious. But then again the problem is still there. So what do they do? Pure genius. They turned the whole thought into part of the plot of the second film to shut the critical whiners up.

Unfortunately, that left a lot of the people getting all confused and shit why Bootstrap is alive in Dead Man's Chest. So they put in a scene where Bill explains to his son how things happened (aka the crushing depths talk with Legolas).

If the brains of certain audience members skipped that part, the man's very existence will be confusing, as it turned out for my dipshit seatmate who thought the movie had a plothole when the only hole I can see from my seat is the gaping one where her brain is supposed to be.

As for the movie, the ending ruined it for me. The ending is a hanging ending, not in the good "let the audience decide" ending done by most good movies that have open ending - it's the " we like to sellout by making sure you'll be watching the second half of the film we'll make by making this ending nonesensically incomplete".

At the credits it said "Based on Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean Ride".


The movie is based on Disney's corporate tendency to sellout entertainment for kids to make more money by whoring out their "beloved" characters in stupid sequels and subpar, overpriced merchandise.

Fuck Bruckheimer. Fuck my seatmate. Fuck this movie.

They've ruined a potentially wonderful experience.

Classical Music Rocks

Friday, July 21, 2006

Three months into sifting through loads of crappy tunes, I've finally found the piece of classical music that I've been looking for. It's the opening theme for Battle Royale, a Japanese movie about a highschool class forced to kill each other until there was only one survivor because of the Japanese Battle Royale Act of 2015. The movie idea itself kicks enough ass to make The Ring's Sadako cry tears of joy but half of the power of the film comes form the soundtrack where they utilized heavy choired tracks.

The title of the track is Dies Irae by the genius Master Composer for the Italian opera Verdi. Verdi is the kickass star of the 18th Century. If Verdi had an electric guitar in his time, he'd create Industrial Rock 100 years earlier. I bet his guy ate raw meat and feasted on the flesh of fellow human beings to be able to get inspiration for kick ass music.

If you think Classical Music is boring, that's because you've been listening to the wrong set of shit. Fuck Vivaldi, put away Bach for a while. Those things drain power. Start listening to Verdi and his Dies Irae. Instead of draining, he injects adrenaline through your ear canals. Emotion in EMO music doesn't even reach a droplet compared to the bloodstorm that his pieces create if you decide to murder people with his music.

Dies Irae is the opening of his creation "The Requiem". In case your music teacher in highschool is a ninny, Requiem is a memorial piece for a dead person. It's basically a musical version of a monument that doesnt depict you naked in the middle of a bustling street. Verdi's requiem is so powerful, it was reported that the person Verdi dedicated it to rose back to life after it was played one year after the man's death. He killed one triangle player in the symphony and then went back to his coffin. Some say the guy didn't really rise from the dead, the triangle guy just died but I cant trouble myself with the specifics. All I can remember is that it kicks that much ass.

The Requiem produces so much shock and awe back during the day that it still serves as a good benchmark for those oooh-ahhh background tracks you hear in the movies nowadays (i.e. Star War's theme, Lord of The Rings, K19 Widowmaker and others)

As a matter of fact, two of its tracks Agnus Dei and Rex Tremendae have been remade by Namco and Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra as soundtracks for Ace Combat: Shattered Skies, the action game with the best and most comprehensive soundtrack in playstation 2.

Thankfully, Verdi doesn't monopolize classical things that rock. Carl Orff's rendition of Carmina Burana. a collection of 13th century text pushes the limits further by putting on the rock spirit 600 years earlier than Jimi Hendrix.

Carmina Burana might sound familiar to you. It's been used by so many flicks already you're probably saying right now "So that's what it's called!" I know.

Wait till you hear the rest of the songs. If you happen to be a fan of Final Fantasy and know of the now legendary One Winged Angel theme of Sephiroth, half of it was plucked from the songs "O Fortuna", "Estuans interius", "Veni, veni, venias", and "Ave formosissima." (wikipedia)

You'll be orgasming with your clothes on. Here's a choir rendition of the original Orff music set for the opening song O Fortuna:

Listen to Verdi's and Carmina Burana so you dont restrict yourself to "cool" music being spoonfed to you by your music channels. More importantly, with the power of the net, dont be afraid to discover unpopular gems.

Fo chillin'

Money for Quotes

So I was hanging around PinoyExchange the other day when I saw a queer looking advertisment for probably the one of the most devilish of local spirits around (read: kanto drinks). It's a quote creation competition and 100 students will get 10 thousand pesos for winning entries.

Since I've been collecting self-quotations for quite some time now (as you can read from my previous posts) I thought I should join anyway. I know, I know, I'm not a student anymore, but I can always do the argument "but we are all students of life" and probably get a free drink or two.

Nevermind the fact that the contest about creating profound words about success is by an alcoholic drink-making company. Nevermind that the last place you'll be looking for profoundness is in the words of a man about to blackout from all the alcohol in his blood. Nevermind that relating drinking alcohol to succeeding in life is like relating getting shot at by an m60 machine gune to losing weight. No, I didn't mind that. Afterall, at that time I considered myself sober. And if I'm going to be competing against alcoholics, huzzah for me.

So I entered five quotes about success. If youve seen my recent list of autoquotations (an invented term for a quote you made for yourself), most of these are actually just derivations from older ones that's not actually related to success. (I would enter "two Successes is better than one failure" but the original quote isn't mine)

1. Successful is the man who makes others appreciate him not for what he has in commonality, but what he holds in difference.

2. There is a limit to what man can do. Success in life is knowing that of yourself and that of other people in everything that need be done.

3. Success in life depends in knowing when to fall back; That backing out is just moving on in another direction.

4. Oftentimes, it's not the success that needs to be achieved but the manner by which it is achieved that counts.

5. A simple rule governing success in life: Do what you love and love what you've done.

(For the love of God and everything rational, don't you dare steal these quotes without giving me at least a free shot of Brandy.)

So there. After placing the entries, I recieved an autosent confirmatory email from the guy at Emperador Brandy. Let me digest the contents for you.

Dear Jethro,

Thank you for joining Susi ng Tagumpay: Inspiring success through education. You have successfully registered our advocacy program for students.

It seems more than submitting quotes, I have also registered their program for students. Shouldn't I be earning money from all these achievements?

You may enter up to 10 qutes to give you more chances of winning Php 10,000.00 for you educational allowance! Log on to www.emperadorbrandy.comm and follow the links to submit your entries.

What the fuck is a "qutes" and "for you educational allowance". Qutes sound like an irish slang for something really nasty that I'd rather not mention. And I am not "educational allowance." And the link doesnt even work.

Entered quotes will be screened by a panel of highly respectable judges, which includes a representative from the academe, the government and the media.

Highly respectable. What the hell. Highly respected? Maybe they're just extremely acceptable. Again, I'm not sure.

Once again, thank you for your contribution in lifing the Filipino spirit through words of inspiration. Good luck!

This guy is a genius in creating words that I and Webster and Merriam cannot fathom. That or he doesn't know what spellcheck means. Who is this guy?

Sa Tagumpay,
Emperador Brandy

Holy Shit, it's the emperor himself emailing me. I feel honored. And by honored, I mean screwed. The guys who made this email wouldn't pass a breathalizer test if I asked them toreplace half their blood content with coca-cola.

I rest my case.

Kris Aquino for President : The Ultimate

Thursday, July 20, 2006

What do you look for in a president? Here's a personal list of attributes a prefect president should have that I've developed over the years. Some of them have been possessed by presidents before. Some, but not all - I took note of that. So as of the current presidency, here's my list:

- Political Lineage
- Good educational background in politics
- Strong personality
- Charismatic Following
- Strong interpersonal skills
- Sense of Humor
- Tits

Political lineage makes having public structures and streets named after a president easier. Since an offspring will most likely have the same surname as his political ancestors, they'll always have a highway or stadium or airport named after them. (Saves paint and confusion of renaming Buendia again.)

Good education is indespensible. You learn in school what things that you can do as a president to really screw things up (read: starts wars and kills normal people). Also you learn there that you have to be actually voted by a majority of voters to win - pretty handy for candidates who keep whining like menstrual bitches on why they didn't win. YOU DIDNT GET ENOUGH VOTES - SUCK IT UP.

A strong personality is necessary. Every great leader in history has this, from Grok the great from caveman times to Fidel Castro to Vladimir Putin (as a Russian, I strongly suspect that personality isn't the only "strong" thing in him *sniff*) It helps in getting things going your way.

Charismatic following helps, since people are generally like stupid sheep. If enough people believe in a person, the rest will follow the flow and not think anymore. Quiet morons are better than rambling morons.

Strong interpersonal skills is necessary since being president is all about relating the the people. The last thing we want for president is one that has stagefright and is antisocial - we all know where that lead America. A good president is like Miss Congeniality beauty pageant contestant. Looks good, has lots of friends and knows how to strut properly.

Sense of humor would be nice so we dont have to put up with el presidente getting "offended" everytime somebody makes a remark about how sucky administration can get. Worse than a whiner is a counter-whiner who has lots of legal backing (like an entire army of lawyers)

You might be wondering about the last factor. Well as you all know, we've had all previous items on presidents before already (though not in the same man or woman) and, admittingly, the streak is not too good. So I thought, maybe it's the tits. Maybe the sole reason that we dont have a strong leader right now is the missing significance of tits.

Think about it.

Given a nation where half of the people cannot appreciate written words and have a vocabulary list that cant fill a bond paper back to back, what will get more appreciation: A State of The Nation address speech with 2000 words, a rewritten constitution or FHM Centerfold? Yeah, I thought so too.

Given these factors, who do you think can become the ultimate president?

That's right bitches. Say hello to the perfect president.

Let's check if she conforms to our standards:

Political Lineage - She's got an airport, a sports complex, and a monetary bill named after her father. When she passes on, it'll only take a few strokes of Boysen paint to replace all the Ninoy's with "Kris"

Good Educational Background in Politics - Kris Aquino has been studying Law since forever. I dont know why she hasn't graduated yet. Maybe she's doing doctorate for every subject she's taken. She's that hardcore. Hardcore? HAAARDCORE!

Strong Personality - If squeezing the balls of a man, and a mayor at that, and going public with the whole mess, admitting to the whole world you have STD, and still getting the highest exclusivity contracts in public television history aren't signs of strong personality, I dont know what is.

Charismatic Following - Just look at the number of hits in this site: Kris Aquino Fan Site. If that many fans of hers can go online, think how many more are waiting outside the internet cafe, selling buko juice or whatever.

Strong Interpersonal Skills - Having a talkshow should be enough for this. That and having to deal with idiots on a daily basis on gameshows.

Sense of Humor - *insert signature Kris Aquino laughter here* 'Nuff Sed.

Tits - Uhhh... tits dont get bigger than 50-foot Bench Body adds outside EDSA. How's that for government propaganda?

Imagine it. When she runs, Kris doesn't have to spend money on posters. She endorses every other existing product in this country from lingerie to cars to ribbed condoms - her presence is almost uncanny. She doesnt have to introduce herself like other politicians because hell, even the people living in Sabah Indonesia know her (and I bet if they could vote for her they would). If Erap who no longer makes movies can win via landslide, think of somebody who has movies, tv shows, commericals and vaginal wash ads. Kris Aquino will win without a doubt.

So she'll win, what then? We wont need SONA anymore. Today With Kris show will be a daily report on how the nation is faring. No nation will ever grow aggressive on us because of four letters: TITS. If Saddam Hussein was female and looked like a Russian Hooker, do you think people will be as aggressive in deposing him/her? Uhuh.

Got rebels? Have them attend a session with Kris on The Buzz and let Kris talk them down to sobbing pussies complete with phone calls from the mother of the jihad leaders. Boy Abunda can help things along as Defense Minister and his probably good skill in blowing things up in case shit happens.

Problems with budget? We can always call the new central banker from Deal or No Deal. Woot. Cabinet selection will be done using GAME K N B so we dont get too many incompetent morons save for the necessary court jetsers like Robert Jaworksi and Tito Soto.

I even have a slogan for it already:

Krisendom. It'll be awesome.

*blog advertisement paid for by Friends of Unique Candidate Kris Youth (FUCK-Youth)

Oh and yeah, as requested. Here's the vid I mentioned in the YM conference the other day. I'll take it down after a while.

Schnappi, in case you didnt know is a German Crocodile from a children's show. He's basically like Pong Pagong, but not a turtle, not a Filipino and not a mascot. So there. In the vid: Celeste and Nicole (ang kulit!)

More About Blogs

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Another distinct behaviour I have observed in blogs is postocopying. (Bang! There's an invented word right there!) What's postocopying? It's basically like Xerox, only the one doing it is a retard. One guy takes what's already in another blog, rewords it or just copy and pastes it, and then publishes it in his own blog. Voilah! Instant blog entry. No sweat, no tears, no common sense.

Abso-fucking-lutely brilliant.


What is this, lechon-manok mentality? One guy sees profit in selling smokeroasted chicken with rich hickory smoke flavour from vehicular exhaust, and the rest of the community follows. Worst bit of this sort of thinking is that the clone competitors as I would call them would place their stalls beside the original store. The same goes for pearl shakes, laundromats, water-filling stations and prostitution dens (the last one is probably the only good thing in the listl; go drive the price down with competition! viva la proletariat!)


I guess the idea can be applied for blogs too, afterall, lechong manok vendors got to go online after some time. If some popular image, article or some other intellectual property attracts people and might even make the site owner sound more intellectual, then damn what's supposed to be their unique piece of claim on the net.

Screw integrity in the virgin ass.

Bobloggers paste it anyway, not thinking that there's a good chance some other guy in his blog link list has the same email forwarding junk in his blog. So basically browsing through blogs nowadays is like going to those tiangge-based shopping centers where you encounter at least 4 shops selling the same trinkets in a single floor. Same shit, same boring shit.

Do a self test. How many blogs in your recent memory contains an entry about Superman and Jesus being compared juxtaposed? I got five. FIVE. That's a basketball team full of assholes already and none of them probably even started the original idea, and it's not even such a good idea in the first place. Wanna try again? Look for Money Pacquaio.

I'd stab these people in the face with spoons if it werent an exercise in futility. There's just too many of them and too few spoons to use.

Now, I'm not saying you can't say anything that's not originally from you. You cant be thinking of new material all the time. There's a limit to what undiscussed topics are at hand. Not all people can be as funny as they all claim in their friendster testimonals. Occassionally you share what good you saw in another guy's work or you borrow existing work already for effect, and it's all good.

But a blog is supposed to be a weblog - a personal log of the author/s put online in the form of a website. I visit a site to see unique content and instead I see blogs containing shit from forwarded email day after day. Listen assholes, if I wanted to read spam I would have just opened my spam inbox with 2000 messages waiting for my perusal and swallow cyanide pills.

I'm thinking people who do this kind of travesty are the same retarded kids from gradeschool who kept copying essays instead of making their own; the types who would answer anything by the book and stare at you blankly at the first salvo of an opnion-based question. Somehow they grew up and their brains evolved to be internet-ready. Pity the net.

And yes, for those who seem to be enjoying asking, an overwhelming majority of written content on this site is mine save for one song lyrics and a couple of borrowed pictures. Stop asking.

Stop making the internet redundant. If you cant contribute anything, don't force the issue. You can help isntead by going back to your destiny of mixing cement and not bothering anyone about your problems with chewing sand.

And make sure it's good cement.

Killer Pickup Lines

Here's a list of killer pickuplines I could think of in under an hour while working on the specs for a program. By killer, I mean it could kill whoever uses it. Note that these items are for entertainment purposes only. Actual usage may lead to nausea, skeletal fracture, and untimely death. You have been warned. Lets begin:

Is my watch broken or did you just flash your showstopping smile?

You must be a blockbuster dvd, because I'm definitely checking you out!

Can I be your landlord? Because that's a lot!

You must be a sadist. You're always making it hard for me.

I'm hydrophobic. Can you hold my hand while I take the shower?

I'm wishing you're the fireworks type - goes out flashy and always ends with a bang.

Are you the knicknack paddywack girl? Coz you're certainly giving my dog a bone!

I like you the way I like my ice. (girl: cool and clear?) Crushed and inside my freezer.

There seems to be a problem with your car, ma'am. The driver needs a tight screw.

Your parents must be farmers, because they sure know how to make things grow...

Heaven must be missing an angel - and he's probably the only thing preventing me from jumping you like a devil in heat.

Hi, I'm Rob R Balloon. I believe at some point in your life you've blown me already.

You must be a tree in your previous life, because you sure know how to give men wood.

They should put you in the skills training seminar because you're the one I really want to pick up.

You make me harder than Michael Jackson in preschool. You want to perform "Beat it" with me?

This movie sucks hard. I bet you can do better though if you swallow.

Your body must be infected by rabies. The more I see it the more I drool.

And the most universal line ever:

PSST! Let's go.

That's about it. I can think of more but I have to get back to work. Got any other ideas? Post them here. ;)

Google Vandalism :)

Monday, July 17, 2006

[warning: the following articles contains language and terms not suitable for the technophobic (read: not geeks). Nerd supervision is advised.]

Google Talk. Google Spreadsheet. Google Suggest. Google SDK. Google Mail. Google Search. Google Stocks. Google Ads. Google Instant Noodles. Google Pictures. Google Groups. Google Condoms. Google Maps. Google Notebook. Google Ride.

Google Earth.

I don't know about you but am I the only one noticing that for every existing site type we have on the net (and possibly offline too) , it seems that Google has a version for it? They remind me of SM Bonus, the commodity that's supposed to be the generic equivalent to common grocery items raging from rice to plastic spoons to sardines to nuclear reactors.

Google. What started out as a Brainchild of a bunch of nerds in a basement with a computer has become a multimillion dollar thinktank factory conglomerate that has produced numerous products that's taking the computing world by storm. I'm not against anything that's happening though, since there's not much I can complain about google's services - freeloaders can't be choosy. It's not like they're whoring out their products like Microsoft - right? Right?

So, I was checking what other services they had and found probably one their most interesting projects yet. What is it, you ask?

It's called Google Sketch Up. Or as I would personally want to call it - Google Vandals.

So what is Google Sketch Up?

Google SketchUp (free) is an easy-to-learn 3D modeling program that enables you to explore the world in 3D. With just a few simple tools, you can create 3D models of houses, sheds, decks, home additions, woodworking projects - even space ships. And once you've built your models, you can place them in Google Earth, post them to the 3D Warehouse, or print hard copies. -

Simply put, it's a layman's alternative to the murerously complicated 3d graphics modelling programs like Maya and 3DStudio Max (used to create 3d models for games and films like Monster's Inc., Cars, Advent Children, and Tarzan X - I know, they all cant be real.)

Google Sketch Up is simple - if not too simple. Even the Counterstrike Map maker called Worldcraft has more features. To technical people in the know, Sketchup is more like a Little Tykes Plastic Car - fun to play with, but professionally useless.

But what makes it interesting? Two words: GOOGLE EARTH. Google Earth, in case they havent included it in the cityguide found in your mountain, is a program that shows a satellite image of the whole world with dead accuracy, even my house is half an inch in length and width at maximum zoom.

Whatever you create in Sketchup, you can put in the commercial world's currently most accurate map imaging system for all people to see. Can you see it now? Can. You. See. IT?!

Imagine placing symbolic buildings inside the map system. People would go see MalacaƱang Palace and see a rundown shack with demonstrators outside - in full 3D. Anybody can place their models anywhere - free for all. Or check your house to see the most amazing palace on the planet. Or a very large 3D Swastika on top of your racist neighbor's house.

It'll be like the frontier days of West America again.

Except the vandals would replace the cowboys in the shooting spree.

It's good technology though, and I myself enjoy making model houses. It's like Lego, except you dont have to convince your playmate that some of the bricks are edible. Still I wonder, what will happen if people get to figuring out evil ways to use this technology...

Only consolation we have is that thinking higher than that of your typical internet chimpanzee (read: online retard) is required to operate such a program.

And that's more than enough deterrent for now.

Still More Idiots On The Road

Sunday, July 16, 2006

I'm not sure if anybody remembers but I've already posted an article about assholes on the road a few months before. (link here) Well it looks like we wont be running out of people who have occupational hazards (read: they make being a road hazard their lifelong occupation) so Ive decided to do a reprise.

With fact that the only time I drive my car nowadays is during Sundays, I still got to encounter two morons in a row in a single idiot-dodging session (translation: driving). They're that numerous. Nature must really like making their kind, in a kid-likes-to-make-shit-appear-in-his-underpants kind of way.

First Idiot: I-Are-Driver

So I was in queue for parking the north carpark bldg of MoA (SM Mall of Asia, for all you mountain dwellers) . There were two queues and I was part of the queue eating up the outer lane of the road. All of a sudden, a third queue appeared and started cutting line for the outer queuers - including me. I kept my pace and when my turn to get cut came, it just had to be the idiot driver who tries to cut me. I get in position where he couldnt cut and then stopped since there was a car from me.

And what does this retard-of-a-driver do? He steps on the fucking gas pedal like he cant see a newly-carwashed bright silver SUV glimmering in the afternoon sun. His mother must have dropped him once to many times to have missed what RED LIGHT means.

So I get off my car and wait for him to come out. I was already hauling ass at this point because he was the one who was cutting in line and he hit me from behind (by law, if you hit a rear bumper, you will always be to blame, partly or wholly). I had this case at the palm of my hands.

Then he gets out. Holy shit. All the seriousness in my face vanished when he started talking like Mr. Shooli of Mongolian Barbecue. He barely understood Tagalog and he spoke in cryptic sentence patterns (e.g. Ako tama iyo. Ako pagawa kaya. Di lito lito ha!) I actually blurted out "What the fuck is you smoking, Marley?" five minutes into the conversation (read: accusation throwing), unfortunately for me, he didnt understand english either.

Anyway as I understood it, he started accusing me that I was the one who hit him, in reverse, and brushing a long gash in his side. I can admit that a car does jerk backward after a brake but it's certainly not enough to do a 10 inch gash (maybe half an inch). After a while he gave up this accusation, specially after the cops came and cleared it up that it was HIS fault and there was no way in hell he could reverse the story (take that, crouching tiger)

I hated the inconvenience of having to lower my IQ while talking tot his guy so I offered the easy-way-out of paying me money for me to fix the damn thing. I offered 3k, since the part hit was fiberglass that couldn't be easily repainted. He refused and claimed he can have it repaired at 500. It was ridiculous. Even the police were finding the counter-offer amusing. After a while, I got bored with explaining logic to the guy who turned out to be a foreigner from China (as I saw in his Int'd driver's license). The police got bored eventually as well. So the police told us that they'll just take the case to the precinct by follwing their car.

In case you dont know, Going to the precinct = at least 7 days of paper work plus working hour appearances plus lots of fucking redtape plus no guarantee you will be getting your money's worth of compensation.

The moment the police car started moving, the chinese man started speaking straight filipino (translation: he started thinking, period) He agrees to pay the last asked price and then drives way, knowing a case like that can give him problems as an alien. (read this Superman: FUCK ALIENS.) I get my money and give the policemen 100 pesos for playing their part in pressuring the fuck to pay off. Unknown to the roadtard, my sister had talked the police into faking that they've filed a report already earlier.

In case you're wondering, I'm not planning on getting the scratch fixed. It's not too pronounced and an idiot just might hit it again in the future. We ate at Crazy Roll instead using part of the money, but at the expense of a few points of IQ had just lost in the run. The idiot who couldnt follow rules just had to be taught a lesson.

Idiot #2: The Human Sidemirror.

After eating at Tagaytay Steakhouse with my family, we went home thinking that we've already gotten more than the recommended daily moron dosage for that day. But no. We encounter yet another car, a honda civic, with idiot passengers instead.

At first I thought it was an illusion. I mean, nobody could be THAT stupid. But I'm once again proven wrong by mothery nature by presenting to me the HUMAN SIDEMIRROR.

He was protruding like a malignant wart on Lucy Torres's face. Everytime the car turned, he made hand gesture signals becoming of a "bus conductor" in a traffic jam. But since the signal light of the car was far from broken, his waving became a signal of his infinite retardation instead. And he actually thought it was cool to do so too since he started winking at girls who cared to notice. They're probably thinking what I'm thinking too: How much ~is that doggie in the windooooooow~? I do hope his owner puts him down soon. And seriously.

Why do people stick parts of their shit out of the window anyway? Elbows, arms, hands with smokes. Does it actually make them cool? I guess it's part of the twisted filipino view of what "cool cars" are, with the fat mufflers and puny 16-valve shits that they think are speed devils on the road. Your car aint that great, and you're still just a moron even when on wheels.

If that group of people who stick shit out of the windows is a clan, this guy, with is reversed cap and flailing arms is probably KING. Half of his body was out the window. One freak move by another car from the opposite lane would rip his torso in half and probably dent the opposite car and spray red paint on the road. I'm just concerned with the opposite car and the metroaids who have to clean him up.

Endagering yourself is one thing. Risking it at the expense of other people who don't want to be associated with you is another. If you think you're showing signs of stupidity, do us all a favor - DON'T SEE IF YOU REALLY ARE BY BECOMING A ROAD HAZARD.

You just sometimes have to wonder how these guys survive on a day to day baside. A coconut probably has more survivability.

Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuutsu Shirt!!

[special post made specially for the occassional otaku readers of this site(read: anime addicts)]

As promised, here are pictures for the custom Suzumiya Haruhi No Yuutsu FanShirts soon to be mass produced by Redkinoko Enterprises *evil glee*. This shirt cost me a bit more than I had originally estimated but I'm hoping to make future ones cheap enough to be actually wanted by people.

First image is the frontof the shirt with SOS-dan logo, back of the shirt is the tres marias of the show with a bit of description at the side of each image. Don't get creeped out if you get one too many eyes glued at your back while wearing this one - they're not out to rape you, they just think you're one sexy bitch because you're wearing the ultimate sexicon shirt on the planet. And I'm not even exaggerating this - I swear, all babes and geeks alike will be all over you. *plug plug*.

If everything goes according to schedule, I should be able to take orders by July 30 in time for the National Cosplay Competition by Otakuzine. Speaking of Cosplay, I also have this third picture. You should be able to guess what it is from the looks of it if you made proper note of the first two images. (and no, it doesn't belong to me and I wont be selling this kind of merchandise anytime soon)

Now back to regular programming.


Friday, July 14, 2006

I wonder what would happen if we turned our presidential electory process into a reality tv show. It'll be the first of its kind in the planet. Like any democracy, we'll still be able to choose our leaders, but we'll be choosing in style, via text or phoneline, send VOTE <space> VOTERSID <space> CANDIDATE'S NAME and send to 2333, may chance ka pang manalo ng bagong government contract! And what better way to get to know them than to pit the candidates against one another in a game that brings out their personalities?

We'll call it DemocraTV, with the tagline "Dream! Elect! Survive!"

Candidates will be selected via the traditional Comelec procedure of add-all-significant-figures-and-add-one-candidatorial-joke. All candidates will then be put inside Malacanang palace where they'll be given challenges like budgeting, legislation and allocation of daily tasks. Nafrel cameras will be installed and all camera feed will be broadcast via government sponsored channels.

Each week, they'll be sent to a confessional booth to state their platform for surviving the competition and how they feel about the platform of the other contestants and try to nominate other players.

Candidates who get the most number of nominations will be up for eviction voting and instead of voting for the person we want in power, we'll just vote for the person we hate more. Money earned through the votation system will be spent towards killing more rebels up north (who are probably busy voting against the presidentiable who would want them dead). Candidate with the most number of votes by the eviction night gets booted, and he will no longer be allowed to have children or visit any SM mall, so only the truly certain will think of running as President. People will think so much more rationally when they know they have something to lose.

At the end of the season, only 1 person can remain in Malacanang. He will then be proclaimed President of the Republic. By the time he wins, we would've known everything about him already from his sleeping habits to his policial way of thinking. It'll be hard to make your actions scripted on a hundred day basis.

That way people cant complain why their leader is messed up. Nobody's ever tried to oust the winner of American Idol before. Your choice, your prize. If you're rallying, you're ralling against your own stupid actions.

It's a win-win-win situation.

So what's the deal with me proposing this kind of system? That's because if this does get implemented, I'll be the first person to try and convince Kris Aquino to run. And she'll win, not that she wont if she ran today, but with this system and her camera antics, it'd be a lot easier for her.

Why do I want Kris Aquino to win? Answers in a future blog entry.

The Dr. Man Consipracy

I dont want to be wordy. I just want to let this out before the mechaclones get me. I have discovered of a conspiracy that shakes the very foundation of the way of life we have today. I shall call this conspiracy the Doctor Man conspiracy.

In case you're not old enough, or you were still living under a stone during the time it went on air, Doctor Man is the evil emperor of the Gear empire, fighting the Biomic Soldiers in a show called BIOMAN. The show is a kids show that falls under the japanese genre called Sentai, which is basically like hentai, but with the heroes wearing tight shiny polyester suits and helmets instead of the normal nothing-there suits - hence the S instead of H.

But then again, as I've said, I realised there's more to this kids show than meets the eye (of Dr. Man, since he's got only one). I was watching the news the other day when I realized that the reason Dr. Man and the whole Bioman series went off the air was that Doctor Man was up to no good.

How was I able to figure this out? Simple. I took a look at the profile picture of his evil krew and found out that one of his high-ranking henchmen had already penetrated the highest echelons of our government.

Who am I talking about? I'm talking about our vice-president. He's Dr. Man's henchman. Remember how bioman during its initial airing, Magandang Gabi Bayan, Noli de Castro's news show always follows after Bioman and Shaider? That's because he's part OF the cast and he only needs to change costumes.

Here's the ultimate proof. Look for the guy in blue. Note: the pictures came from and and contain no photoshop editing whatsoever. (you can click it to get the full size)

He may have fooled the lot of us but he's not bullshitting me. I saw through his plastic headgear even back when I was a kid. For all we know, other henchmen in the picture could be controlling our country now. Here is a short description of Meison taken from

The highest ranking of the Big Three and certainly the most sadistic. He is the one who killed Mika Koizumi with the Bio Negaparticle Gun in episode 10. He is also capable of designing his own weapons such as the tentacle tube in episode 19. He also masterminds an assasination attempt against Doctorman in episode 28. He fires energy bolts from his staff. He is later rebuilt with more formidable weaponry.

Take note that he's a guy who can kill a member of a children's action show and get away with it. Even the badass called Tank in Captain Power couldn't do that. He has tentacles (the japanese symbol of godhood) and he even tries to kill the main antagonist of the show even if he's on the same camp. And he's serving as the vice presidentof our Country.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

(you can tell others of this conspiracy by using the forward as email button beneath this line.)

The Key To Ultimate Knowledge

Thursday, July 13, 2006

So I was randomly checking blogs late last night when a thought just hit me the way a brick would a glass window sheltering our president's autobiography (expectedly shattering) - could it be that I have stumbled upon the true key to omnipotence? After much more recalling and more research all over the so called blogosphere, I have come to a singular conclusion:

Crossing the International Date Line Makes You Smart.

That's right boys and girls, expats of all ages. Apparently having crossed the international date line entitles you to vast quantities of thinking power required to gain understanding of how our society works! Ever notice how the most influential articles are almost always written by expatriates now living in the States? How they always have a say on what's going in our country, why things are happening the way they are, and why the grand United States of America is so much better?

That's right. From clueless douches before they left the Philippine Islands, they've achieved the status of omnipotence, mastering the art of being total douchebags the only way an enlightened pilgrim (read: deserter) can. So here's one of at least five blog descriptions I've checked that night and it pretty much sums up the attitude of these illuminati:

A Filipino living in the United States started blogging about the Philippine political scene. He names the government, the academe and organized religion as the causes of poverty in the Philippines.

Include there the family, the media, the culture and not having any money as a whole and he would have pinpointed all possible causes of poverty anywhere. I'll make a prediction right now. In a few more years, this guy will be discovering the wheel as the single most important tool of transportation to man - that or that his secret identity is Captain Common Sense with his General Information beam to defeat his enemies. He continues:

There was a time when he thought that micro-financing would provide the much-needed capital to uplift the lives of marginal Filipinos.

Money curing poverty. Absolutely genius.

Then, he realized that the inability of the masses to rise from the quagmire is anchored on more deep-rooted reasons.

Like not having any money perhaps?

As with many Filipinos who migrated to the U.S. as adolescents or adults, Mell retains many
fond memories of the country he left behind.

I couldn't help myself from laughing hard after reading this. It reminded me of my childhood, back when I was young and stupid - except for this guy's case, only the latter applies.

And it's not just that blog. Or other blogs. I've been to the so called promised land - twice. Everytime I tried to raise the issue of the Philippine state of life with almost everybody living there, the "life's better here because you dont know how to run shit there" mentality is as prevalent as gay people in men's choirs. Whether it's boasting or just faint self-reassurance for their own wellbeing that drives them to keep on repeating that kind of idea, I'm not sure.

So here's my analogy where the expat is the med student. The medicine student looks at a sick patient, then the student looks at a healthy patient. The student says to the sick patient that he's sick because he's not like the healthy patient. Seeing a healthy patient firsthand gives him enough credibility to be able to diagnose the sick patient as a doctor. When asked what the problem is, he replies "Because he has sickness." when asked for a cure, he says "I'm only here to diagnose the sick patient since only the healthy patient is paying me."

Again I find myself asking why these people even bother talking about "our" way of life. So here's what I say to any expat who thinks any better:

You left us, took oath to another Flag and stepped on your own just to get that green card of yours. Your country is no longer our country and unless we invade your country, chances are, our concerns won't have anything to do with yours. Being able to experience an orderly society doesnt make you capable of fixing what's wrong with ours, and it's not like we're asking for your ideas anyway.

Even worse, the only news that ever gets to you are those that you see on your limited channels and whatever hits the internet (the reporting medium with the most number of errors) and your contemporary human experience is no longer connected to us.

Check your passport. You're a Joe now. At least you should be. Nevermind what other Joes think about you and your perspective towards your own. Or what sad piecemeal luxury life you're living now. Or how you get treated in your new country.

Look at things on the bright side. Your high-and-mighty-but-clueless attitude towards suresolving life's problems has already turned you into half the american you should be. Now if only you can work on that skin tone...

Until then:

p.s.: I did not put the source for the cited entry for the same reasons as before. Baka maghalo lang ang balat sa tinalupan.

What I Hate About Blogs (Part 1)

I was talking to my friend Lou a while ago. As it turns out, we got same beef about personal blogs. There's just too much senseless ranting in them. Now, I'm not against rant articles. As you've seen in this blog, I have my share of rants as well, mostly on how stupid people can get and never really get anything else.

What I'm let's-abort-the-next-baby-of-this-person-kind of against are those senseless rantings from idiots about their personal lives as though strangers online reading their logs would actually give half a second of care about their sad lives. Dude, nobody cares. If someone does care, it's probably that 40yo weirdo who always checks blogs of strangers with the hopes getting to molest you someday.

Listen, everybody's got problems. Don't act so special by broadcasting yours like some pilldriven actor looking for publicity. If you want to vent out using your online journal, do it like the highend mammal that came out of your mother's vagina. Present the problem, be objective about why the problem is there and most important of all, make sure you have a point in your rant. Unless, of course, your point in the whole thing is that you're an ignoramus and that you want to exemplify it further using blogging.

I've lost count as to how many entries I've read with the writer babbling about how much his life sucks in the most incoherrent way possible (read: retarded) without taste, wit, or even a sense of direction. Bottomline: Don't put the rant in ignorant.

I failed Mr. Dontrato's test agian today. SHIT FUCK MOTHER****ER. I swera he's takin it personal on me. I dont want to retake SPLELING101 again. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK The food in the cafeteria sucks and I got dumped because I have erectile dysfunction. [end of post]

The guy practically drew an "I'm an idiot; shoot me and my future children please." over his head. When I saw that message, I was reminded of raving lunatics after their dose of rugby. I've seen more logical arguments being written in public restrooms,

(edited as requested by our international friends: Maria, your **** are huge! Can I touch your **** so I can **** you. )

At least I found what he said amusing and he had a central theme for what he was saying. And it's not taking up cyberspace. Because that's what pointless rant posts that don't mean to share information are - senseless and wasteful of cyberspace that could've been put to better use.

The internet is not a garbage dump. Stop putting garbage on it.

When artists say they want to capture their furstrations in their art, you dont see them taking out their anger in their canvass by taking a dump, piddling their shit with a few brushstrokes and call it art (well, except for very few exceptions, mostly French ones). Even angry music isn't created by hitting people with your stratocaster and laugh incesantly as you watch them bleed to death. Art's no longer art when it becomes a felony.

Everytime you place a senseless rant on your blog, God kills a kitten.

Think of the kittens.

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