What's ailing me and the balm

"Why did you live your lives so blatantly, so flamboyantly? I'm sorry, but if Brian Gorrell don't get you, then I will." - Kitty Go


As much as I wanted to quit Arnel Pineda cold turkey, I have been unable to. I tried by controlling myself from peeking at Arnelpinedafans.com then wham! there are more videos and update about Journey and of Arnel. I love this site!!!
And as much as I want to continue living in my fantasy world ogling, daydreaming and exercising poetic license (excessively) in my writing about Arnel the reality remains that back home –the Philippines, things are not well. The things that are bothering me so much lately are the POEA, the Vicente Soto Medical Center scandal and Lex Adonis –the jailed media man. I am still researching on these issues, but I have finally seen the video of the infamous surgery in Cebu. At first, I could not make a serious comment on it, as I did not have any proof. But after analyzing the video, I can definitely say those medical personnel involved need to be hanged. So where are the same people who thought Terri Hatcher’s statement was worth protesting about?
Even though I still own properties and maintain an apartment in the Philippines, I don’t have to go back there anymore, but Arnel has to. He will go back to that mess where the POEA instead of helping and assisting the OFW (the number one breadwinner for the Philippines, in their billions of dollars in remittances) consistently finds ways to bleed the OFW financially. One in particular that makes my blood curdle is their so-called PeDos fee (Pre-departure Seminar fee). God forbid if they miss one more opportunity to suck more blood out of the turnip. Who is the monkey with the peanut brain who heads the POEA? Call me I need to teach you a few things. Then there’s the case of politicos suing media people for libel. Mike Arroyo at the last count has sued at least 43 journalists. I like his wife Gloria though. Although I myself have some problem with the ethics or lack thereof of some of these Filipino journalists, most of them are very disciplined and exercised journalistic professionalism. Kitty Go and I are on the same wavelength on this issue of libel and the media, reason I like her.
My editor and mentor told me I have to get back and finish my book by January and stop this insanity about Arnel, that Arnel is not cutting the check. But hey, money saved is money earned; Arnel is my Xanax and Zoloft combined. Can you tell that when I wrote of the above; POEA, etc, I am prone to violence but writing about Arnel transports me to lala land? Oh well.

What's Up With People

When I am not wandering aimlessly here or abroad, I really do have a life. And I do important things like watching an important show - ala Broadway. Last Saturday I was invited by my friend Billy to watch "Up With People" present a multi-cultural expression of what the world looks like when it is united.

Up With People is a global education program for young adults ages 18 to 29. Founded 43 years ago, it was conceived and driven by the old adage we famously hear all the time - "The youth is the hope of tomorrow". The program makes classroom theories about global perspectives, leadership and inter-cultural communication come alive through hands-on application.

Although a person regardless of age if equipped with the right skills and attitude can make a difference locally and globally, I feel that the young can dance and tickle a keyboard without having to worry about an arthritic limb. And that is just what we were treated to...nimble performers with energy not generated by Starbucks.
As we entered the door, young men and women were lined up to direct the guests and taking our tickets was a young man with a smile as big as Texas -"Bienvenuto," he said as he gripped my hand. Not sure how to respond I stammered "uhh, whatever" and he smiled even bigger.
The students were from all over the world and they sang and danced dressed in the costume of the country they represent. The stage was bursting with energy and color not to mention the student's enthusiastic anticipation of the next country they were about to fly to. Natalya from Uzbekistan, one of the 2 students that Billy hosted came to chat with us. She told us she was one of the 25 who was picked to live with the village people in Thailand for a week. She made it sound like, "Woo-hoo, I won the Texas lotto!" I wondered if she knew what she was getting into. But really, if this group doesn't do anything else but make this trip to Thailand their life will never be the same. The program is far-reaching and has a rippling effect not only on the student's life but to everyone involved; the local community that they would be descending upon and the host families who opened their hearts and homes and rearranged not only their furnitures but also their schedules. Then there's people like me who just sat and watched...for free.
I was particularly awed by this girl who came out dressed like a Spanish senorita. She was led by another girl to the front of the stage. You can tell she was handicapped, until she let that vocal chord explode. Mezzo Soprano? She was the female version of Arnel Pineda ( my new source of infatuation). Her name is Jessica Rojas. After her performance she was led back out of the stage and I silently wondered what else could a blind girl do for the organization. In my limited world and selfish tendency I bordered on thinking that she might be more of a liability than an asset to the organization. Until Billy told me that she not only could sing, she is also a travelling staff member. You see what I mean when I say that this UWP program is far reaching? After watching Jessica what's my excuse for not doing anything? As of this writing Jessica still haunts me. And I mean that in the most positive way.

Open Letter to Journey

An Open Letter to Journey

Gentlemen, I was going to write sooner because I had some questions about the symbolism of your logo. What’s with the dung beetle with wings? You see, even though I’ve heard of Journey and loved Journey songs, I was not really interested as to who you were, individually or collectively, until Arnel Pineda showed up. I know you guys are busy so I went to the library instead and the research librarian gave me enough books to research about dung beetles. I’m telling you - librarians are a different breed; they’re like a breathing Google. I told her I was not researching for scientific purposes that would benefit mankind but that this was all about my racing heart rate caused by you guys. You would be proud of me because even though you are supposed to be quiet in libraries, I managed in hushed tones to tell her about ya’ll coming to Dallas. And of course, what’s Journey without Arnel.

Anyway, here’s the meat of why I am writing to you. As I watched your videos in Chile (for the nth time) I had a light bulb moment, which I would like to address each one of you.

I will start off with you Deen:
Towards the end when Arnel was handed a trophy, he kissed it and he handed it to you, but you didn’t even touch it. Instead you put your hand around his shoulder and I could not hear what you were saying but sounded like “No bro’ it’s for you!” That almost made me cry. It takes a bigger man to do that. I think that was your defining moment. I so love you for that, for knowing to make Arnel feel that he deserved that for himself. I cover you with my prayers that God will sustain you to have the strength to resist the wiles of drugs and alcohol because I want you to to be healthy so you can continue to beat them drums like an Iraqi prisoner.

Jonathan, I watched you tickle them ivories and I imagine you tickling my navel (I wish anyway) then you lowered your head just enough, raised your hand and the crowd went wild…. ooohhh. That is so cool but I want to go back to that interview with KNBR when you were talking about Arnel “who kept looking at you like saying, Can I go home now?” It was not because he was tired, that’s for sure, because like you admitted, after 4 songs in, he was still kicking. When he gave you that look like he wanted to go home already, it was because after hanging out with you guys for weeks on end, all he must have been eating was burgers and fries… you know, the American staple? He wanted to go home because he missed eating rice and fish. If you know what’s good for the band, ya’ll need to keep that in mind: we Filipinos are PBR, “powered by rice” per Douglas MaCarthur. Burgers and fries are good but to Filipinos that’s just snacks.

Neal, first off from the bottom of my racing heart, I thank God for who you are. I read that you always gave people the “chance to be” and your instinct seems to work all the time. It is people like you who give our aspiring and struggling wanna bes the drive and the determination to keep pushing their wares hoping that one day, someone will dare give them the chance. But I have a beef about you throwing towels to the audience. I noticed that Arnel held on to his, but I think the crowd started to ask for his too, so he reluctantly gave it to them. I don’t care if you have perspired and blown snot on the towels we need them in the Philippines. And I promise you, we will not keep it unwashed for over a year like Monica Lewinsky did. Remember that controversial dress that was stained with Bill Clinton’s banana water? Well, you get my point.

Arnel, My Arnel: I read that Filipinos at the Las Vegas concert were waving banners – "Arnel For President." Don’t worry about that, they did that to Manny Pacquiao too.
Right now your marquee reads:
Arnel Pineda - Singer/Songwriter, Journey lead singer = SEXY.
If you fall into this pressure of becoming a politician, I cringe at the vision:
Arnel Pineda - Philippine Politician = CORRUPT.
It’s a no-brainer, man.

Now Ross, I don’t know how you ended up having more hair than me, and I think Michael Bolton asked that same question too, but that’s beside the point.
When you said, “ I think we will move here” I hope you were kidding. The Filipinos in California would not like Journey living in Chile taking Arnel away from them. You would not want to tick them off. No, they’re not mean people who will curse you behind your back. They will look at you with goo-goo eyes then cuss you out in Tagalog or in Bisaya. But seriously man, I can see you’re tired so if you’re just looking for another place to retire, come live with me in Cebu. So call me.

Arnel Anonymous

Feeling of jumpiness or nervousness
Feeling of shakiness
Anxiety
Irritability or easily excited
Emotional volatility, rapid emotional changes
Depression
Fatigue
Difficulty with thinking clearly
Bad dreams

According to Alcoholics Anonymous the above symptoms are what an alcoholic experiences when trying to quit the booze. And the exact same symptoms are what one experiences when an AP addict tries to get freed from anything Arnel Pineda. Like logging into AP forums 9 times a day, incessant talking about AP, giddily watching his videos while humming along with him because really, that’s all you can do – hum. (Or risk looking stupid like Syasya Padilla and Martin Nievera).
Then there’s the constant replaying in your mind of how cute he puts his hands together when he tries to clap not to mention the mooneyes when he strive to reach a higher note. And of course, his quintessential smile that dances in your head and if you’re not careful, will get you committed to the mental ward at the county hospital without your consent.

I have no shame when it comes to Arnel; I talk about him regardless what setting I am in. I was at a friend’s birthday party the other day. I gave the prerequisite hugs and wishes and “how’s the husband and kids” routine. And listened to some sob stories even though I could care less that one guest's husband was hauled off to jail for beating a co-worker because the co-worker said he was voting for Osama- when actually he meant Obama.

My friends know that my genes are not predisposed to addiction of any kind but they are painfully aware that I am always looking for the next high. And the "high" at the moment is Arnel Pineda. They also can't deny the fact that the only man I talk about with a passion and dedication is Jesus Christ, so when I started ranting about Arnel, they know I must be on to something.

I had not seen this group of white friends for quite some time, so this was the first time they heard me talk about AP. I gave them the abridged version of the Neal Schon episode then gave them the link so when they get home they could fire up their computer. We finished the cake, hugged some more then I got in my car and headed to lala land again. I mean home.

Two hours later, my phone rang and it was the birthday girl. “Ritchie, I just watched the video of that Filipino guy Arnel.” And? “I just want to scoop him up and plant him in my lap.” She said it like it’s a matter of entitlement. I was bent over laughing and I said “ Betty, how old are you today?” "Seventy-six” she said.
And I thought I was the only one who’s got no shame. After we hung up, I had that smile on my face like -See? I told you he is addicting. But then again, she may not live long enough to get hooked.

Crisis in Cebu

Yesterday, on the Drudge Report, in red and on top of the page it says : 100,000 may have died in Myanmar (Burma) cyclone.
While a Cebu paper carried the headline : A TEAM from the National Bureau of Investigation (NBI) Computer Crimes Division will be in Cebu today in a mission to identify who uploaded on Youtube.com. the video depicting the removal of a body spray canister from a patient’s rectum.
Notice the difference of the two headlines on what matters to some people?
I've heard of kids swallowing all kinds of stuff. But an adult with a canister up his rectum? Why? and who stuck it up there?
A month or so ago, this same paper reported about this Jan-jan, the guy from Cebu whose boyfriend (yes, boyfriend) stuck a perfume canister up his anus. When I read it, I didn't think it was funny. Constipation is not funny. At least, I don't think it is. So can you imagine a canister stuck up there? I don't care how small.
So Jan-jan went to the city hospital to have it removed. And it was removed. Not just removed but "happily removed." The medical team who did the procedure were clapping and laughing.
And what's a happy gathering without someone capturing the moment. The moment was frozen in time and was even uploaded on YouTube. (YouTube always gets you in trouble, like getting everyone addicted to Arnel Pineda). So the legal saga began when Jan-jan found out that his arse was up on Youtube. He sued the hospital for 6million Pesos! Also, there were talks of possible revocation of the teams licenses - for jeering. No, jeering is ok, just so you don't do it on Youtube.
I went to this hospital four years ago with my Australian friend because she runs a charitable foundation that helps this hospital. While there, I saw 2 cats lethargically walking and casually licking on dead bodies in one room then leisurely walk over to another room to visit the maternity patients. A 3rd cat too tired to walk but with moon eyes, was coiled and relaxing on the lower level of the medicine cart while a nurse in crisply ironed white uniform smilingly pushed it around. She must be a fresh graduate. I asked my friend, "Is this ok with the doctors here?" She looked at me funny. "With the few and overworked doctors we have, do you think 3 malnourished cats would bother them?"
As I was reading Jan-jan's story, I thought, maybe one of these "few" doctors did the procedure. But the newspaper said that there were as many as 14 medical personnel in the OR. Did these corrupt government officials hire more doctors since I was last there? I doubt it.
Because I only read bits and pieces of the whole story, I don't really know the whole truth. But here's my perspective on this news bit. Here in America, we have stores everywhere selling sex toys. I even passed by one the other day. The building looked like a church were it not for the sign that says it was not. So we can assume that there are people who "really" use these toys, or that nice building wouldn't be standing there. Anyone who has kids or has been around kids knows that anything could happen to any toy. It could malfunction or you could have a malfunctioning playmate. Imagine US taxpayer's ire and horror if Dallas Morning News carried the headline that the FBI are on the hunt for the techie who uploaded the video of some malfunctioning sex toy.

Please don't get me wrong. I understand that doctors should be held to the highest degree of accountability and that patients are due the utmost respect regardless of their ability to pay or lack thereof. Jan-jan should not be put through the public humiliation (he was already humiliated in private... and in private parts). But to go to an extreme measure of bringing in the NBI to Cebu? With the current rice crisis? Who pays for their food, hotel and transportation not to mention the bar tabs? I could just hear their drunken conversation discussing the days progress: "So, you got any leads as to who uploaded the video on YouTube?" "Naah, but I got the canister. I think I will post it on eBay."
You understand my frustration here? Mark Twain is right : If you don't read the newspaper, you are uninformed. If you read the newspaper you are misinformed.

Oh Well...Here I go Again

This is so not cool anymore. Jimmy Buffet came to town, right in my neighborhood and I missed it. No, I am not a parrothead but that's beside the point. How could I miss Jimmy Buffet goosing the local parrotheads?
Because I was "preoccupied" with Arnel Pineda. I am not ready to use the word "obsessed" so I am being gentle with myself here. Nothing and no one makes me lose my head - not film or sports celebrities anyway. Well, unless you count the time last year when I was at the Masters' Tournament and I cried because Tiger Woods stepped on my toes - not really, but you know what I mean? That close.

The last 3 weeks, I am only getting 3 to 4 hours of sleep. I have jumped over the fence and crossed the line of sanity. This is my typical day now; before I go to sleep, I watch Arnel Pineda videos. I used to when I wake up, stagger straight to the kitchen and grind my own beans to make coffee. (a pound costing more than my hourly pay) Yes, that's how discriminating I am with my caffeine. But now, I go straight to my computer - flickering my tired, sleepy lashes and watch more Arnel Pineda videos! By then, I am late for work so I just stir up some instant Nescafe. Then when I get to work I watch some more of his videos, of course, not minding my co-workers rolling eyes. When the phone rings I get ticked that I am being disturbed in my humming -- highway run, in the midnight sun....
I also now call him My Arnel. "Now that is sick", my daughter says.

After my last post someone emailed me, asking if I will be writing more about AP. I said, "I hope not, what else could I say about him anymore?" But I was wrong, I still am not able to shut up about My Arnel. My friends are obligingly kind - they indulge me even when I am riding on their last nerves - because of my talking constantly about My Arnel.

But one just could not stand it anymore, he told me the other day, " You are like a post turtle"
A what? "Did you ever drive down a country road and come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top? You know he didn't get there by himself, he doesn't belong there, he can't get anything done while he's up there, and you just want to help the poor thing down. That's a post turtle. In other words, you need to get back down to earth and be useful again."
But I am useful, I protested. Because in my "preoccupation" with My Arnel I make sure to pray for him.

I say, Lord Jesus, please take care of Arnel's vocal cords, because I know that them Journey songs are known to rip vocal chords, but I also understand that if You brought him to this level, You can and will protect him. Also Lord, if Cherry and Cherub can't come with him on his tours, please take care of them back home and comfort Cherry's heart so she won't worry about them groupies. It would be nice if You arrange a visa for them but in time, I know You will do that.
I know You know this Lord, but Arnel needs to sing only when necessary, so please don't let him sing again with SyaSya and Martin. They look ridiculously pathetic next to him.
Oh, and another thing Lord, would You please tell the Filipinos in California when they meet Arnel at the airport, not to kiss him hard on the cheek so he won't misalign his already problematic jaw? Or better yet, tell them not to kiss him at all. Because, really, I can't handle another video of them hogging him while I watch and salivate.

And with that prayer I sign off with a prayer for myself : to come out of lala land, so I can sleep again, do my job at work that I am paid to do and most of all write again like I am an adult - in my right mind. And I mean write again, but enough already about My Arnel.

Arnel Pineda's Journey

I don't fall in love anymore and I sure don't with Filipino men. Well, maybe. I don't care to watch or hear any of the Filipino talents we have, not even our famous actors or actresses in the US- in fact they make me sick if not piss me off. But two weeks ago, Chat, John and I were at La Madeleine for lunch and she started telling me about some Filipino guy who sings and was discovered on YouTube by Journey - the famous band in the US. I had to think hard of who Journey is so John my favorite son- in-law started humming "Faithfully". As soon as I got home I went to YouTube and watched the video. Immediately, I felt like I was strapped in a straightjacket. I was gripped. I remembered an old black and white footage of The Beatles arriving in America and the camera panned on women crying and stretching their hand out wanting to touch them. In disgust under my breath I called those women, stupid, lunatic etc. Well, to my horror, I too became a lunatic for Arnel Pineda, except there was no camera panning on me.

Arnel Pineda!!! I was captured, smitten, bitten, sick to the nines and goosed to death. I suddenly found myself unable to explain my euphoria. I was so exhilarated I could not sleep that night. The next morning in my pensive moment I pondered on what God must have been thinking that day in 1967.

In a town of Sampalok, Manila, Arnel was born. Six years later, Arnel's parents would position him on top of a table and make him sing while a band called Journey was being formed somewhere in California. Journey went on to sell 43 million copies while Arnel was living off of left over crumbs, scavenging for scrap metals and selling empty bottles in order to eat. At the same time, successively, the year 1977, 1978 and 1979 - three boys were born respectively in America, Taiwan and Germany.

God looked down from heaven smiling while methodically creating a position at Journey. Hmm.... He said, "Arnel, hang in there. The design is almost complete. I just need to get these three boys together so they can create YouTube. In the meantime, I will give you a glimpse of life outside the Philippines so go to Hong Kong and sing there. I will get you back to the Philippines when it is time because I know you really want to go to America. And by the way, don't worry about the position at Journey - you already have the job. I am just waiting for Steve Chen, Chad Hurley and Jawed Karim to iron out the kinks at YouTube, so when Noel uploads your clips it will be perfect for Neal Schon to view and hear.

Arnel, if I can put all this together you think I would overlook the US embassy in Manila? Don't sweat it man. I will get the adjudicating officer to be at Bagaberde and hear you sing. I will make sure he drinks enough San Miguel that even if you sound like a frog he won't notice. And hey, don't fret when you get to the embassy! At first you will show up at Singer's window (don't laugh at his name, it's not a coincidence) but that American who had too much San Miguel will take over your case and he will remember you. I told him to give you the visa so you can go see Schon and the gang in San Francisco. And like I said, you already got the job so just relax in Chile. And you thought I had forgotten you. Don't stop believing, the wheel in the sky is my sign that with open arms I am faithfully watching over you."

Then God giggled and rested. But then He remembered that I, Ritchie, for two weeks went to bed crying and wishing for a ticket to see Arnel when Journey comes to Dallas in July. I feigned madness, illness and depression until Chat was convinced that the only way to heal me was to buy me a front row ticket. Whew -- what I have to go through to get a Mother's day gift.

Panic Attack Abroad

Two months ago I went to the Bahamas. That same week before my flight, I was already anxious I could feel a full blown panic attack coming on. Normal people would be excited (to say the least) about an impending vacation. But not me. The silent torment and fear I felt was all I could bear, I contemplated on cancelling the whole thing. But I kept telling myself -I will never be able to do anything outside of my daily routine if I let this fear control me.

I kept asking God for a sign to stop me from going. No answer, So I went. Once inside the new DFW terminal I started to feel better. Nice restaurants serving a good choice of breakfast foods! This was my first time to fly out of the new terminal, it reminded me of the Hongkong airport-huge and nice but not quiet.

I was leisurely eating my ham and egg and sipping on my capuccino while talking to my friend in New Jersey. After we hang up I made a concentrated effort to convince myself that it is ok for myself to have fun--to enjoy this trip! I don't know when I picked up this baggage of feeling guilty everytime I am having fun. But lately, I discovered that my panic disorder came with a bonus--I just could not enjoy anything (whatever it is) without feeling guilty. I need someone to slap me over the head and tell me softly or loudly --it's ok, you have my permission to enjoy yourself. Why is that? My psychiatrist didn't get to answer this question because after our first meeting and he told me that I need to see him once a week at least for the first 2 months, I decided I was not that screwed up after all. Eighty dollars a week so he can look at me cross-eyed and pronounce me crazy?

On the flight to our stop-over in Fort Lauderdale, I was "normal" again and I wanted to preserve the feeling by watching a documentary about China, narrated by this solo traveler named Justine. See, she's a solo traveler too! I tried to encourage myself. I found that my portable dvd player can rescue me from pesty seatmates and/or upcoming panic attacks.

When we landed, I went to buy lunch. Why is it that it is either food or pills before I can feel comfortable in any given situation. I was not hungry, I just felt that it was time to take my food. I paced back and forth by the gate because I could see that the airplane taking me to the Bahamas was smaller than what I have been used to. This was my first time to fly on a small airplane. There were two flight attendants; a white woman and a male who looked Middle Eastern but his accent betrayed his looks. This also being my first time to go to the Bahamas, I was unfamiliar of a Bahamian accent. I was in a mix of frustration from trying to understand what he was saying and fear thinking he was Isaac's militant fanatical cousin. Oh, dear God, he's going to blow up this plane and I could not be identified by my dental records because as my stepson once told me he has more college degrees than I have teeth.

The sound of the airplanes' engine trying to get off the ground and act like it could not, made me pray more seriously. Lord, in between the choices of this plane crashing because of engine failure and being blown off by a terrorist, let it be the latter. At least, I will have the chance to try and have a scene with the hijacker then I can call and tell my daughter Chat some stories that she can relay to the news media. And knowing her, she would make up real good ones. Though posthumously, someone will see my name in print since I have been unlucky with publishing companies to get my book published. Lord, I am not asking for much, If I have to go down in flames, I want to make it loud too.

I was so focused in my prayer I did not notice the man seated next to me was drooling on my shoulder. Nor did I hear him snore. It made sense why his wife sat 2 rows away from him.

When we landed at Nassau, all I could think of was run to the counter of American airlines and see if I could get back on the plane and fly back to Dallas. I was by then not only very sad, but very anxious- I could feel I was about to black out. But I pressed on. I tried the breathing technique, I applied mind manipulation. Neither one worked. I got to the hotel and went to look for a restaurant - time to take my food. But the rice and the fried conch did not have power over my pounding and racing heartbeat. I held out taking my pill - telling myself instead, I can do this. I called my daughter and made her promise me that the next time I plan on another trip to make sure and tie me to a post and leave me there for dead.

With Gods' providence I managed my panic attack to a comfortable level. Also with Gods providence I got on the wrong bus. I was going to the botanical garden, instead I got on a bus going the opposite direction. (One thing about travelling alone, you can do just whatever you want to do.) The bus driver asked me if I wanted to go with Ava, his sister in-law who was also on the bus, after all, this was a Sunday. Thank God my shorts were not that short because Ava introduced me to the Pastor and he introduced me to the whole congregation. Look what Ava drag in here. I spent the whole day worshipping (and mostly eating) with them.

Needless to say, I managed to enjoy my weekend stay there even without anyone's permission. But Chat and I concluded that I don't have to spend all that money to have a panic attack abroad; for a lot less I could do it here locally. As often as I don't want it.

Tragic Comedy

When I tell people I don't watch tv because I don't have one, they don't know how or what to take me for. My reasoning is this, " What do I do with all that information?"
I scour the web for news that interests me, and most of the time I find that there's really nothing that I need to know. But even though 95 percent of the news I read on the paper about Cebu irks me, to say the least, I still try to scan the headlines at least once a week. Just so I know if a typhoon came and flushed my apartment to the river. Today, the above picture and caption below made me chuckle.
"Firefighters, assisted by 10 residents, had to push one of Oslob’s firetrucks to the scene of the fire, 50 meters away, so that it could pump water to put out the blaze."

Oslob is a town south of where my apartment in Cebu is. An old church built in the late 1800 was gutted by a fire that could have been prevented if they had a fire truck. And why don't they have a working fire truck? The mayor said the clutch was needing repair. I could not get mad anymore, and I could not afford a laugh, I can only chuckle. Corruption happens in all levels of life whether it is in Cebu, Sudan or America so I should not waste my breath lambasting the corrupt politicians in the Philippines anymore. Remember, I am tired of politicians.

But Filipinos are different. We are the only culture that takes a lot and forgets too soon. Spanish colonization? That's ok, at least we inherited the "mestizo" look. Japanese bayonet? Ooh, but at least we got Toyota surpluses.

Corrupt politicos? Shhh...they gave us a can of sardines in exchange for our votes-- remember?

Silda Spitzer and Us

For the life of me I could not ride on the bandwagon of "Take the kids and run Silda" as what some of Mrs. Spitzers' friend's are telling her. I read comments like, "she wasted her time on a fraud, why is she standing by his side inspite of what he has done?" Pleeees--I am so sick of this people trying to act sanctimonious. Why is it that people are so quick to pass judgement or give advice? Another comment says- " I can't believe that she gave up her career to support this husband who cheated on her." What an idiotic comment!!! How many of us get married and predict exactly how that husband or wife will turn out? If machineries break down and gives us trouble, so does live human beings! Come on idiots! What could be a better career than to run a household, and manage your husband? Is there anything better than raising children and training them in the way that they should go? (Even though some of them chose to become head gangbangers instead of becoming the PUS) Everything in life is a choice and a gamble. (Except the choice to accept Jesus as your Savior) You work for a company and become a CEO, make millions in salaries and bonuses, make the company grow and make more millions or you could work for a company and get fired before you get to buy the perfect picture frame for your desk. In everything we take a chance, but I think I would rather take a chance on a more meaningful endeavor, like massaging human beings not stocks and figures. But then again, that's just me.

Silda's so-called friends are advising her "to leave the scum." What I have observed about people who are quick to give advice to people who are in a tight situation, is that they are the same people who would not know what to do when put in the same situation. Only Silda knows the real Eliot, only Silda knows what's good for her and her children. Only Silda knows what she is capable of. Silda is a trusted aide of Eliot -and he claims that publicly, reason that he gave her an office next to his. And she was one of the few in his inner circle to advise him not to resign in haste. And I think the same tactic she will use in her marriage--if and when she leaves him, it will NOT be in haste. I don't feel sorry for Silda, I feel sorry for her friends. She hasn't lost her mind yet, her so-called supporters already has. But this I say of a true friend, you stand alongside and shut up. When asked of your advice, you give them your opinion or better yet, give them a parable like Jesus did. But then again, that's just me.

Why are we so interested in the sex lives of our politicians? Why are we awakened, if not catapulted to think everytime we read or hear about someones philanderings? At work, I talk about the rising gas prices and the dollar driving south, and everyone just gives me a courteous but hardly audible " I know." As if saying, aw shut up, what can we do about it? But when I said, "The governor of New York hired a prostitute" everyone's head craned to look at me " Reaally? When?"

Is it the sex or the politicians? I thought we are tired of politicians, reason we don't vote anymore. Bloggers and columnists are busy keeping this Spitzer thing alive. And almost all of them are saying the same thing, Silda, leave the jerk and move on. But there's a hidden or subconscious motive to everyone's writings and opinions on this matter --to find meaning to Silda's predicament in the hope that we too can find meaning in ours.

Why can't we leave Silda Spitzer alone? Meghan Daum in her column with LA Times says it well.
" No wonder we keep searching for meaning in a story whose real meaning is something we don't exactly want to know."