the mungo conspiracy

Funny how my brain works, one time, I had forgotten to buy new razors and so had to make do with old not so sharp ones. As I was daintily applying rubbing alcohol onto my freshly shaven face, I was reminded of a movie I once saw – Rambo, First Blood. Remember that Sylvester Stallone flick? Remember what finally set him off on that murderous rampage? It wasn’t that he got arrested for some lame made-up reason or the police brutality after that. No, it was not even the lame-ass redneck version of the water torture. What finally set off Rambo was that the deputies were going to shave him without shaving cream. As I suffered from the micro-cuts of my haphazard shave, I understood the man. Sylvester Stallone is a genius.

I ’ve a spokening-dollar nephew. Which is strange really, since no one in my family speaks English at home. Oh yes, like any typical Filipino family, English is our second language, and we resort to a phrase or two when discussing technical stuff. But Tagalog is our language. I blame the baby-sitter – TV. Nickelodeon to be more precise. With both my brother and his wife working full-time, the young tot basically grew up with his tita and grandma preparing his lunches, and TV as the sitter. One time, on the way to Sunday lunch, the 3 year-old enunciated in his perfect American twang “Come on lola, let’s go.” To which, the farmer’s wife from Nueva Ecija retorted “Lintek kang bata ka, pati ba naman ako i-inglisin mo!” I see nothing wrong with learning a second language, of course, especially English, the language of commerce in the global business world. But let us not lose our precious cultural heritage. Tagalog is not just our language it is a very beautiful language. Reall...

I try not to be judgmental, give people a chance, and not let first impressions become final conclusions. But guess what? Stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. Like, if you know another Led Zeppelin song apart from “Stairway to Heaven”, then you smoked a joint at one time or another. If you’ve ever had a Britney Spears record, in whatever shape, form, or format, pirate or original (though much sadder if you actually paid full price for it), then your cellphone is way too expensive given your salary. If you’ve ever attempted to sing an Aegis song in public, then you own at least one shirt a size too small. If you can name all the members of either F4 or A4, then you just don’t watch ultimate fighting. If you are a Ginebra basketball team fan, especially during the time of Jawo, then I must really watch it when I play cards with you. If you’re Pinoy, born and raised, and basketball just doesn’t interest you. Whether it is playing or just even watching the FIBA, th...

I was working overtime one night and decided to order take-out. And this is what I discovered. That popular hamburger chain will not deliver ketchup unless you specifically ask for it. Yes, even if you order burger and fries. I asked the delivery guy “Why no ketchup?” and he tells me that he, one time, on his own initiative took some ketchup sachets to go with the burger and fries order. But to his dismay was reprimanded for it by his supervisor. This is what we get. They pay that over-rated celebrity a gazillion pesos to endorse their product and we get scrimped on in ketchup. It wouldn’t be so bad if I was home. I always have ketchup, but sadly, not in the office. What is the world coming to? You have to specify that you like bagoong to go with your kare-kare? That you like your softdrinks cold? I say “NO!” We need to put a stop to this nonsense. I refuse to believe that the fate of their entire multi-billion business empire rests on ketchup savings. Even when you dine-in...

image from here Leonardo Da Vinci didn’t have a client when he painted the Mona Lisa. And here’s how I know. It’s the most beautiful man-made creation without being perfect. The horizon behind Mona Lisa is not even level. Surely, a client, out to prove she’s not in the production meetings for the free donuts would have noticed. “I like the general flow so far, Leo, but can we do something about the horizon?” I guess that one comment would be fine. Problem is these geniuses do not stop at that. “I think it would be better if she didn’t have too large a forehead. Can we somehow deflect the focus from that?” And some other genius, not to be outdone, “Ah yes, and she looks pale. Is she sick?” At the end of 200 such production meetings, the most famous painting of Leonardo would have ended with a Hitler mustache. No kidding, it is a strong confident statement, some cubicle-jock daring to be known as a risk-taker would insist. Once, a long...

It’s all a lie! Here’s how it happened, I am nearly sure. Forget for a second that I am a conspiracy nut and almost always paranoid. The machine that shreds cows and turns them into corned beef lost a tooth. Instead of uniform shreds of meat, it started spitting out chunks. “Wait!” the supervisor exclaimed as he admonished his crew who were about to throw away the defective product. “Let’s get Kris Aquino to endorse it”, and therein lies the genius. Chunky corned beef? No problem. Get that irritating daughter of our most beloved hero to endorse it. She can sell anything. As much as we all want her to fall flat on her face, secretly, all women want to be her. And that is the saddest truth about women. And what about her boy? Some genius thought it was a good idea to get Boy Abunda to endorse shampoo. I wonder how that meeting went. No one? Not one? Not the client, the director, the copy-writer, the coffee-runner, noticed? The man is bald, for crying out loud! The ...

There has to be some Pinoy blood in Norah Jones. Yes, that singer. Why do I say this? Did I study her genealogy and find some secret Filipino lineage? No. I am too lazy for that. I leave the hard work and research to Ambeth Ocampo. So how in God’s good earth did I come up with that earth-shattering assertion? Simple, the superfluous “h” gave her away. It's Norah, after all, and not Nora. What’s up with the Pinoy and the superfluous “h”? Ghirlie. Bhryan. Bhoy. Sarah. Oh wait, that last one would be correct. And those pirated DVDs that has the English subtitles all terribly wrong? I am guessing you need the superfluous “h” to apply for that job. Jhon Dhavid – DVD subtitle writer.

Forget the social contract. Politics, Philippine democracy style, is all entertainment. Name one president, nay, one public official who once elected into office actually fulfilled his campaign promise. So why even bother finding out their platform? It’s a total waste of time. The so-called intellectuals are not very intelligent if you ask me. I say, we embrace the reality of Philippine politics. Let’s up the ante even. Instead of the mudslinging campaign period followed by the boring and arduous casting and counting of ballots, we do a television series, Survivor Payatas. Sixteen presidential candidates, 39 days, dumped in the Payatas landfill. Give them minimum wage to live on. And no, the minimum wage is not free. It’s the reward! Challenges can be designed to reveal their skills in balancing the budget, the best to deliver his presidential commencement speech, or the best strategy to end the conflict in Mindanao. Let’s give it a slight touch of social relevance, just enough so...

Friday lunch, any cafeteria in Metro Manila, and I am willing to bet my lunch money that mungo is the vegetable of the day. Why? Not that there is anything wrong with it. I myself love mungo. But what’s with mungo and Fridays? Here‘s my theory. There is a mafia-like organization that controls the mungo market in the Philippines. These wiseguys force cafeteria owners to serve mungo on Friday lunches -- or else. This creates an artificial increase in the demand for mungo on Fridays, only to deflate dramatically come opening of the stock market Monday morning. I am no expert, but I believe there is money to be made there somewhere.

The planet Mars has two moons. One named Phobos, the other Deimos. Jupiter has thirty, or at least thirty as far as I can recall from grade school. That translates to thirty exotic names all in all, to be memorized by young malleable minds. Let me see… Europa… Juno… Juno… Europa… argh… memory falters with age. But here’s the thing. What’s the name of our moon? Moon, would be a common name. Not the proper names some nerd at the Harvard Observatory had to come up with for the Martian twin moons. Think about it. Our moon is nameless. No one has bothered to christen it anything. It’s like calling Pasig, the river. Notice, you don’t even need to capitalize the first letter of “moon”. I am no great astronomer. I doubt I would ever discover a planet, a star, or a big enough chunk of rock in outer space to warrant a name. But as the man who first recognized the need to name our own moon, I therefore assume for myself the duty and great honor of naming Earth’s moon. I say, we call it Cory...