Only 550 Words on Manny Pacquiao and Facebook Friends Who Support Him

I didn’t think it was my straight friends’ duty to come to my defense when Manny Pacquiao so famously said very ignorant things about gays and animals. I didn’t think I was entitled to their charity because it’s not as if I have been very supportive or vocal about causes that any of my friends – gay or straight – may have wanted me to support. I’m sure, though, that if it had been any of their basic rights that were suddenly called into question, I would not have acted so callously.

On the other hand, straight and “straight” friends who urged/are urging everyone to just move on from the issue as there are more pressing problems that are more worthy of discussion than Gay Problems are just as awful as MP. I could have lived without that kind of admonition to practically forget about the fact that for years, my peoples have been denied civil rights. I could have lived not knowing how they feel about their fellow human beings not enjoying the same rights as them.

I have around 600+ FB friends, so I know there’s bound to be a few profiles who would say shit like ‘Move on!’ or ‘What is your problem?’ or ‘If one man’s words can shake your beliefs, your beliefs aren’t too strong to begin with’ or some shit. What a waste. They’re about as wasteful as those who didn’t think to just use plain and fewer words to expose the homophobia that runs in their hateful, spiteful veins. Them and the sports fans/Pacquiao fans who don’t realize that if he wins, takes a seat in the Senate, votes against a cause they fiercely support and believe, and uses the book of Revelations as the basis of his decisions, they will be very sorry, and it would be too late. I’m not a fan of stupid-shaming (although it is often fun to read) but it is hard to deny that stupidity and lack of patience for the art of thinking is what’s causing all this.

Also hate those who have nothing to say, but thought it worthy of their time to write 2,000-word essays about how everyone should just respect everyone’s opinion. It’s the equivalent of wanting to shush everyone who are raising valid points about granting certain people some basic human rights, and knocking yourself out writing an essay that says nothing and wastes everyone’s time. This issue reveals something rotten about their personality, specifically their inability to see beyond the Pacquiao fanaticism and into the sheer stupidity of his comments and the seriousness of the matter.

I realize I’m not making brilliant contributions to this discussion myself, but this affects me as a person who might want to marry a person with dick someday, and I just need to say that I’m not going to take any more shit words and phrases from ‘friends’ who are expressing opinions that are shit. I truly do not want to become the kind of angry writing person in the internet who adds so many words so he can… add more words. Fiery discussions are on their way out, but it won’t stop here. To friends who are aware that I occasionally post feelings up in here, stop pretending people like me don’t exist in your life.

 

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Link These and Die

I regard every essay posted in Facebook or Twitter with suspicion because life is short and I don’t want to spend precious seconds of my life reading worthlessness when I can spend it trolling prestigious publications such as Gawker, Mariah Daily, Jessica Rules the Universe and Read This and Die. It’s an economical way of plowing through daily Internet readings. Sometimes I regard these essays with contempt because suspicion and contempt are best friends. I can only imagine how someone with the same tendency as me feels when I post essays that entertain and impress me greatly. In the spirit of democracy feel free to express your feelings about people like me who post essays such as the ones I do in your own Pat Session.

Travel!

I’ve been seeing this travel-related essay too often and too much. It basically pontificates the virtues of travelling while young. It’s a bombastic persuasion on how youthful travelling can be so nurturing to the soul and well-being. Point taken, but actually, travelling is so expensive. I’m saying ‘expensive’ but I’m also meaning I don’t like spending time at airports, falling in line for bus tickets, jeeps, and other such cruelties to the mind, body, spirit and feet. A friend once emoted exactly how I feel about the kind of travelling I do (leisurely): I like the feeling of being in a place but I’ve never warmed to the necessity of having to face people whose job it is to suspect my intentions for lugging big, uncomfortable bags to places where about a dozen other people in my Facebook have re-enacted the exact same poses in, like as if they’re the very first human beings to ever pose inappropriately beside a religious statue, wearing the same sets of wacky facial expressions.

But really, people who enjoy travelling and posting pictures of their naked selves in the beach, or fully clothed in the mountains, etc, are people whose passion for travelling I totally respect. I get that their exposure in my timelines are accidents of their having cameras and FB/Twitter. Travel people are not the same as skinny people who go to fancily ambienced restaurants so they can hashtag foodporn their pics (which I can tolerate if you’re a chunky/fast metabolismed person with a nice camera who actually likes food). You’re fine, travel people. I especially like it when you go by yourselves and never feel the need to make me feel inadequate for not vomiting all over myself for not booking the next piso-fared flight to Turks and Caicos. I guess my point is I don’t mind travelling but I’d rather be magically transported to a place. But I prefer reading and that’s travelling, too!

Things to accomplish in your 20s

This is popular with people whose lives are perfect or whose lives are perfectly advertised. To better ram their points across, they point out that they really, really have accomplished a lot and are perfectly happy in their achievements as 20-something persons and that in fact numbers 2, 3 and 5 are crossed off their list. As a twenty-something person who hasn’t achieved a quarter of what this magnanimous Internet person is telling me to achieve already, I sit by the sidelines in the meantime and swallow whole my peers’ glittering achievements. Thank you, my mouth is so full.

Patricia Evangelista’s things

I don’t know what you see in Patricia Evangelista’s writing that you would mercilessly bombard timelines with her essays but every time I read an article of hers, I imagine her face. It’s a face so serious it will make you question the existence of humor. I will admit that I don’t  read her often because I’d rather think about Channing Tatum’s loins or read serial killer novels, but when my timeline is Patricia Evangelista’d I can’t help but notice and read each word, and think, ‘Gurl, chill! Gurl, listen to some Carly Rae or some Britney.’ I kinda like her column about Ernesto Maceda, though.

List of things gays need to stop doing

In this, the writer gives a guideline on how not to behave as a gay person. But you know what, writer? Being a homosexual in this world is hard. You may think it’s easy, but it’s not. Our inward-smirking society may give the impression that it’s totally okay to be gay but still, no. We get innumerable rules on how to maintain an acceptable amount of gayness that we should unleash to our fellowmen so adding to that is mean.

But I will agree on one point and that is in the needless sassyfication of the self (the way actually paminta gays attempt to be sassy and attempt Z-snapping personas – #4 on the list) just so one can meet the expectations of how the average, unexposed-to-gays perceive a gay person. I don’t z-snap in public but I do sometimes exhibit flamboyant tendencies just because I feel I can behave as a certain type of gay without having to think if my behaviour is becoming distractingly gay. It’s silly but I act a bit swishy around friends who know and I don’t get why I do either, but maybe it’s because my thing is I have to be myself.

You can’t follow hunks on Instagram AND like their photos without being suspected of being a fag. If you do manage to follow a hunk, you might have to do it one at a time (so, say, you want to follow both Semerad twin, you have to settle with one and follow the other one some weeks after just so it won’t look suspiciously creepy to people who, despite fat, flaming evidences to the contrary, still think of you as straight). You also can’t comment on your out, freedom-loving gay friends’ posts the way you want to. You may get away with the occasional Chos but sometimes you want to have variation and use Char, but Char will most certainly raise an alarm.

Also, you get endlessly jeered by clueless or vicious people who find it highly retarded (and maybe frightening) that at your age, you have no girlfriend. It feels intrusive and harrassy when you get teased with females you’d rather be friends with. I refuse to be the type who ceremoniously announces whatever people feel I need to ceremoniously announce, but there are fools who will want to worm this information out of you. It’s hard.

Don't be fooled by the nice cover for this is a horror.
Don’t be fooled by the nice cover for this is a horror.

Never Let Me Go makes you wonder why Kathy H, Tommy D and Ruth didn’t just escape and live a life that’s rightfully theirs, keeping kidneys they rightfully own. Is it because they have integrity and pride (of the fact that they’re excellent keepers of organs)? Surely, obedience is not the moral lesson being peddled here because if surrendering to the system is this horrific dystopia’s virtue, then shucks. Is it a golden metaphor for How Life Is, the life that you, me and we have is actually like Kathy, Tommy and Ruth’s? The kind where we are all of us in a system and there are ways to get out of it because as most of us are aware the world is large with hideouts and escapes, but that there are rules to be followed, words to be kept and most importantly, cares to be given, but we stay and wait ’til we ‘complete’. I have a feeling, and it’s quite strong, Kazuo Ishiguro doesn’t want to share his and our world’s specifics which is how it remains mysterious, shitty, pretty, worth living, blah blah blah.

Responsible, Sensitive Social Media Person

If you find yourself having a bad day, you are probably itching to say, ‘This day can suck a cock’ up in your Facebook or Twitter because there’s only so much you can do to put a little spin to the all too familiar expression, ‘This day sucks’ into something more specific, concrete, and pointed. But since you ought to care about the morning-after regrets of posting such negativities, you restrain yourself and let out a little scream deep inside yourself, out of reach of everyone’s social feeds.

You get like that sometimes, do you not, all itchy to let the world know of your yuppie, middle-class inconveniences and relevant-only-to-you rants? It’s as if the anger that sprouts from the little hasslefest that is your daily morning rush hour commute is invalid or false if they don’t get social media’d.

Tough if you’re into social media and you care about impressions. I try to refrain from vomiting all over the net where people in my life of all shapes, sizes and cuss-words/dick and bitch ‘jokes’ tolerance converge and manage to gag word vomit reflexes. But if you’re completely uncaring about the kind of character your feed is shaping for you, these might be some of the things you have been itching to say:

  1. This week can suck a dick.
  2. This day can suck a cock.
  3. Philippine transportation system, please suck a dick.
  4. Right to say shit about people who deserve it is worth fighting for.
  5. Sometimes your friend invites your for a drink so they can Facebook in front of you. (For friends who can’t get enough of socializing even while in the thick of socializing, who feel compelled to impose their socializations in every imaginable and available dimensions.)
  6. In case purgatory gets tired of its name, it can call itself ‘Wednesday’.
  7. The MRT is truly one of mankind’s worst inventions. (Sometimes, tagging whoever manages that awful piece of  transportation trash, to impart such simple a message as ‘MRT is the worst train on Earth,’ or ‘Riding the MRT is one of the most dignity-defying transport experience no one deserves to live through.‘ might be more effective. But if you think really hard, there are other awful public transport options and you realize they all deserve this kind of criticism. To economize, use #3.)
  8. Counting one’s blessings is exhausting. (For when you feel like complaining, but you’re aware that you’re somehow ‘still blessed’, and you’re concerned you might come off as an ungrateful whiner, but you just cannot shake off the feeling that sometimes, certain blessings are indeed exhausting to have and count, wicked as that may sound.)
  9. I’m too dressed for stress’ is a better platitude. (Not to pick fights with friends who have perpetually bubbly dispositions who say things like ‘I’m too blessed to be stressed’, but reducing the genuine stress some of us feel to a bunch of feel-good rhyming words deserves a little dig.)
  10. This bus/shuttle/cab is so hot. Satan must be driving it. (For the daily commute anger-causer.)
But a responsible, sensitive social media person will avoid very public displays of hate and try to practice vitriol-control, although some still fail, to the detriment of his conscience and anxiety-tolerance systems. There is an idea of just such a person. He’s the kind who likes check-in statuses, changes in relationship statuses, pictures of himself, pictures of people who tag him even though he’s not in the pictures. He posts in Instagram, shares such photos on Facebook or wherever, and adds a vaguely humorous but more important, safe caption. He reiterates fun just had through a reassuring tweet. If he is committed to creating and perpetuating this proper, pleasant online persona, he may occasionally say things like ‘Back to reality’, or any of the go-to platitudes and vague, cryptic stuff that are terrific substitutes to specific realities one must face, for instance, work. So instead of saying something like, ‘Back to my shit office to deal with my shit boss!’, it’s just plain, old Back to Reality. Whether these characteristics are the true marks of a RSSMP is highly debatable, because of course a true RSSMP can always prevent damage by saying nothing.

Shit-brown Morgue & Other Hilarious Boner-killers

The Pink Morgue and Other Homoerotic Stories of Mysteries and Suspense’s greatest crime is not that it’s laughable. It’s that it’s so corny and unerotic and so full of deceptions and lies starting with the ‘Homoerotic’ and the ‘Suspense’ in the title. The author and publisher, Jack Sagrado, is per the book itself, the country’s premier writer of homoerotic stories of mystery and suspense. Okay.

People should approach this not as serious literature but as a kind of pornography, which might exactly be the author’s intent. The good news is that trashy things can be enjoyable too. I don’t know if drinking games are done in celebration of awful books such as this but in case anybody ever needed one, get this and you’re all set. Drinking game’s rule could be: take a shot every time a participant opens a random page containing corny, stilted dialogue. This game will be fun but also hazardous to all as extreme drunkenness is sure to be had.

I checked the publisher Redbridge Books Publishing on the web and found ample evidence of grand ambition, it’s heartbreaking. Its Facebook page indicates its dedication to ‘publishing high quality original books for and by the Filipino gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer (GLBTQ).’ It also aims to be ‘the premier GLBTQ publishing company in the Philippines, in Asia, and the world by pursuing the highest standards of book design and production…’ Tall pronouncements such as these make it all the more confusing that its premier book is of substandard quality. All efforts seem obviously to have gone to looking for the perfect pair of man-tits with which to slap on its admittedly fine-looking cover.

Despite this, I humbly highly recommend this book to fans of trash. This is not sarcasm, just an honest to God, straight-faced recommendation. Be warned though that what you’re experiencing is not a ‘haunting passage to the deepest, darkest recesses of human consciousness’. Instead, there will be lots of ‘brief and small chortles’, conversations that sound like DOMs speaking to store-bought whores, plenty of corniness, and some of the most painful, unfunny usages of Gay Lingo ever.

My favourite things in it:

The gays are called Dr Angelo Sanvictores, Juan Carlos Quintero, Lester Dantes, Andy Angeles, Jr, while the rest are either an Aling Babang or Mang Bruno

Aling Babang saying things like ‘inundated’

‘Oh Ric, I thought my feelings were wrong and will go unreciprocated. I even tried to forget you but I never succeeded. I couldn’t stop loving you.’

‘I wanted to kiss you that time, Ric. I wanted to touch you. But I wasn’t sure if you were feeling the same way too…’

‘Lintek naman, how’s that fair?’

Paolo Montresor, Fortunato Fermin in a story called Club Amontillado

Mang Bruno: You just go ahead and cut this body whatever you want. I mean, it’s not as if this stupid thing here will ever complain… And I wouldn’t really care if you butcher this body like an animal. I mean, with some bodies, perhaps, I’d mind. But this fellow here is a worthless piece of crap.

‘His tongue was begging entrance to my mouth.’

‘His briefs landed on top of the television set and hung there like an oversized moth.’

‘Rolly then went near the body, and seeing Vida dead, he picked up a big shard of broken glass and began partitioning her face like a small bilao of biko.’

‘Some people wear masks to conceal their true identities or hide their real emotions. Some to live out certain childhood fantasies… I wear one for the same reason. Among others.’

‘His car followed mine, and after a short drive, we reached the exclusive and high-class condominium building where I live.’

‘The interaction in the parking lot however fleeting was to my chagrin, vividly captured in those snapshots I was holding in my hands’

Understand that this is not an act of superiority-demonstration. This is merely a sharing of found joys.

You wouldn’t think that a group announcing itself as a Premier-something would be so deficient in taste and structure, but this book venture managed to be immodest, ridiculous and mockable all at the same time. In short, us, its target market, have just been given a gift. Congrats and thanks, but please stop saying things like ‘deepest, darkest recesses’ because we will be more than glad to wade through your shallow, superficial publications. We all know that ‘deepest, darkest recesses’ sounds nice and mysterious but assigned to the wrong product, it’s deceitful and stupid. And try not to lord it over with the premiership.

Contagia

It wasn’t my plan to see Contagion when it screened in Manila because it looked like a highbrow-fest what with all the Academy Award winners and losers in it. I watch the occasional Oscary films but I don’t feel like watching those since I’m kind of not wanting to engage in too much brain activity lately. But a friend badmouthed the film and went to great lengths trying to strip the movie of any worth. Great lengths being an FB group message warning of its garbageness. Then he sort of launched an anti-Contagion campaign as if the movie isn’t such a huge flop enough and posted a flat out ‘Contagion sucks’ post of sort which though I wasn’t designated protector of the Steven Soderbergh filmography I thought was a bit much.

What’s striking was not that someone would express dismay over a seemingly difficult movie; it’s that the person expressing it is someone who I know is a fan of highly intellectual things, who would argue with anyone about politics, religion, sex, art, film, underwear, literature, etc. So the friend, who I’m mostly okay with – ok as in outside of our circle we don’t care enough about each other to ask about how each other’s families are doing, etc, so you know this is certainly not personal – raped Contagion in front of a relatively sizeable Facebook crowd (and where else can a larger crowd be had? Where else can a captive audience be easier to snatch) and that is all the reason I needed to want to see the film for myself. I saw it not because I felt strongly for Steven Soderbergh’s works but because sometimes truly awful word-of-mouth is irresistible.

I know that no one takes my takes on social networking behaviour seriously and the only person who thinks I’m such an expert on psychology is myself but the criticism ambience is becoming alarming. There are people who don’t care for critics, people who even think critics are funny (whatever that means), and then there are the critic-dependents who wouldn’t watch a film unless it’s rated with a 65%+ freshness in Rottentomatoes.com.

Contagion is the perfect film with which to observe people’s behaviors towards criticism, says the expert. People who could think for themselves naturally do not subscribe to critics’ opinions to form their own but there always will be the ‘thinkers’, the supposed intelligent ones who would purposely shun sorta brainy stuff just to show how certain widely perceived culturati things are beneath them.What it could be is a ploy to monopolize and keep all discussions of intellectual merit to those which these same people (ie aforementioned friend) find worthy. Or maybe Steven Soderbergh molested friend’s (and similar people’s) puppies in their youth and/or their drug addict sensibilities were seriously scarred by the Soderbergh film, Traffic. Just wild-guessing!

To illustrate, suppose you’re a smartypant and a film like Inception is showing and people are actively campaigning for its greatness and enjoyability. You  will shut it out of your life and maybe throw in a nasty comment or two about its great potential to bore, and then express your own preference for lowbrow flicks like Hot Chicks, and feel good about yourself. That sucks! If you think you’ve got such a hot pair of brains, you will not let your bias affect your right to enjoy a truly remarkably made Christopher Nolan film, or in this case, a good Soderbergh film. But for the record I didn’t care for Inception too because it was so boring. What makes me special is that I hated Inception because it was so boring and I have extremely high tolerance for boring. And unlike Inception, Contagion is really not pa-intellectual. That’s just his style! It scatters details and characters in a way that can be alienating but everything is so urgent and focused, you don’t forget for a moment that you’re watching a film about an illness. And it’s called ‘Contagion’.

To make a point I could have gone on living without saying, I could say that contrary to his opinion, Contagion is quite good. But point or no point, the movie is not worthy of a peer pressure-motivated censorship. I also like very much the music and the dryness of it, and the terrificality of the acting. I liked Gwyneth, Matt Damon, Kate Winslet, Jennifer Ehle and Marion Cotillard, and I like the dry, sandpapery look of it. See, it has a market! In the old days, as in around 3 months ago, I would have attempted to do a review thingy of it, probably, but considering how inept I actually am at doing that, I reduce my thoughts on films and things in the most uncriticy way because already, my eyes have been opened and I now realize how ignorant I appear every time I try to opine on something I don’t fully understand and appreciate.

But, whatever! Someone spreading contagious remarks about Contagion is delicious. Har! Maybe the friend is just aiming for a punch line. He is probably waiting for someone to challenge his probable perception of the film’s ending as a kind of a ridiculous surprise. Maybe he hates Steven Soderbergh. He’s free to hate. The trouble with this particular hate is that if people take heed and ignore Contagion, they will never experience its alleged awfulness by themselves. The admonition to not consume something is detrimental to everyone’s right to criticize. Criticism is fine. It’s fun. It’s just not for everyone.

Sikyo

I have been waging a probably futile fight against security guards in Manila. I’m aware of this fight’s futility but I feel like it needs to be addressed. I’m never going to win this so-called fight via passive-aggressiveness. I can try and get people to do what I do to rile security guards up but I have a feeling that being sarcastic and making dabog are never going to produce results.

The fight is not with any specific security guard, as in with the kupal sikyo in Ayala MRT station, the selective bag-inspecting sikyo in my building, etc, but with the idea of having security guards everywhere: malls, LRT, MRT, office buildings, any place we think is dangerous, which is  everywhere.

Every day I have to deal with at least 3 to 4 security guards. One in the morning when I go to work, then in the evening after work, and one in the MRT if I’m in a hurry to get home and another one if I’m entering a mall or whatever public space I need to go to for whatever. The MRT/LRT guards are the worst. In banks, hospitals and restaurants, I can understand the presence of security guards, but to install them in mall entrances, train stations, etc, and have them inspect our belongings, is just so worthless. It is a waste of everyone’s time. People who hire them have done nothing useful but deploy them in these thankless jobs of having to pry open everyone’s bags to check for bombs which they will never ever find. No security guard can save us from Manila’s special kind of everyday peril.

What are they really, really looking for anyway? It’s either dynamite or guns. This is just stupid. I can’t imagine any of these guards apprehending someone who actually had a bomb or gun in his possession and refusing him entry. In the first place, people with guns are either powerful people from affluent families who would never ride the MRT, or police/military men, some of which are actually criminals. Really totally worthless to check our bags, really. I also hate very much those guards who are selective in bag inspection, those who don’t check old ladies’ bags because women are never going to be terrorist or gun possessors.

In my old coffee shop office, the security guards were very useful. They spot people who leave valuables, they keep an eye on suspicious looking people, and they double as busboys which was really helpful to us. They are definitely with the marginal 10% useful guards. At least 80-90% of the security guards in public places are worthless. This is really poor statistics that I’m just drawing from daily experience but I firmly believe this. They are worthless!