A government of pimps

I never thought I would ever say this about my beloved country but "TANGINA, WALA NA TALAGANG PAGASA ANG PILIPINAS!" As the transfer of Smith back to U.S. custody and the DFA's (Department of Fawning Asswipes) intervention (AGAIN!) in the case against the thieving Chinese fishermen show, we cannot rely on our government to defend its own. We are literally being raped and pillaged by these foreign fucks and douchebags like GMA and Romulo are more interested in not offending those fuckers' sensibilities rather than protecting its citizens and precious resources. Like it’s not enough that hordes of our countrymen are already in foreign servitude ("bagong bayani" my ass, they're the government's "gatasang baka") because they couldn't get a decent life here, not even if they worked their ass to the bone. God, this government will pimp anything! Honestly, I just want to go all El Fili on the whole country. Aaarrgh, I hate this annoyance! Di ako makasulat ng maayos!

Thank you. Yes, YOU!

In spite of myself, the holidays have forced me to reflect on the people who I’ve loved and been my unfailing family all these years—my friends. I realize that my aversion for the niceties of maintaining relationships (text- and call-backs), manic-depressive behavior and selfish need for solitude can drive even the most loyal friend away. So to all my friends (old and new) who have kept faith and continued to seek out my company and help me through rough times, thank you. All your efforts, kind words and yes, even forwarded jokes, have not been lost on my cold, autistic heart. Your friendship keeps me sane and grateful.

Remember: I may be a lazy friend but I’m the lazy friend that loves you. And because I’m too lazy to be anything else, I’m still going to be your friend long after you thought it possible. Here’s to a lifetime of happy new years my friends!!!

Wine, women and song

Last night I went to Conspiracy bar in Quezon City to watch my friend’s pantasya du jour, Lyn Sherman, and was wonderfully surprised by another singer, Ms. Susan Fernandez. My friends and I were drinking in the garden when I heard what I thought was a softly-playing Esther Satterfield CD in the background. Turns out it was Ms. Fernandez and let me say this: you can’t sing “Love Is Stronger Far Than We” unless you have a pure, exceptionally beautiful voice. Anything less and the song would lose its pathos and become just another maudlin love song. Susan Fernandez had it. My friend JL helpfully clued in my ignorant ass (“Sino siya? Bakit di ko siya kilala?”) by explaining that Susan is, in fact, a well-known folk singer who used to be married to political scientist and writer (and “asshole husband”) Alex Magno. He further added: “Nung bata ako crush na crush ko iyan si San-su. Grabe ang ganda niyan nung araw.” (Aside: I was mildly amused by his comment. As the son of newspaperman Jose Burgos he probably did see a lot of these activists and folk artists when he was still a young boy. In fact, “San-su” is probably his father’s name for Susan which lends a touching gravitas to his innocent remark.)

While much of her repertoire leaned towards more popular songs, there was something about her quiet singing and the way she would occasionally preface her numbers with little back stories that gave her performance a certain depth. I suppose it’s the calm certainty of a woman in her middle years. In contrast, Lyn Sherman’s performance relied more on clever arrangements and stylized vocals that betrayed her relative youth and still precarious place in the world. But there’s no doubt that she’s good and can hold her own against even Fernandez though I had a sense that Susan’s performance threw her a bit and left her a little too awestruck. (Later, Mon and I would have a discussion: While I agree that pretty young things are great for sex, it’s really women closer to your age who are more compelling.)

The evening ended as all bangenge evenings should: with a heated argument about jazz, a clumsy reconciliation and unabashed, if drunken, declarations of “I love you” before we all staggered back to whence we came.

Postscript: I love you too, Egay. Your musician’s heart is true. The same holds for your writer’s heart, Charleson.

Go away, Santa!

Dear Santa,

I wish the holiday season was over. It's like a bad amusement park ride and I'm waiting for it to end with eyes closed, teeth set and fists clenched. Meanwhile, I'm easing my holiday discomfort via near-nightly inebriation. So please Santa, go away before my liver gives out. And take all my ho-hoing family and friends with you.

Love,
Joyce

P.S. I hope you enjoyed the milk and cookies I left out for you last night.

With priests like these, who needs Satan?

I deliberately avoid writing about current events in my blog because socio-political commentary is not really my thing. But when I read Archbishop Oscar Cruz’s remarks in the aftermath of the Subic rape case I was so incensed that I just had to write about it. He said that the case offered lessons to Filipinos; “and women, most especially, should be taught that ‘womanhood is precious and noble, so it is not right for them to be flaunting it around.’” He further added that “they should not appear cheap and practically inviting to be violated by men.”

Dear Bishop of Eternal Ignorance and Darkness, what exactly do you mean when you say “flaunting it around?” When a woman goes out wearing a mini skirt and a spaghetti-strapped shirt, does that constitute “flaunting” her womanhood? I think I can safely speak for all women when I categorically state that no woman, or at least no woman in her right mind, deliberately sets out to “invite” rape or any form of sexual harassment—whether she goes out in a bikini or a burkah. And by perpetuating the notion that women who act and appear cheap deserve to be sexually violated by men, you Bishop, have just condoned, nay encouraged, the rape of women. Congratulations, through your ignorant remarks you have set the cause of women back 1,000 years. I’m sure your Taliban friends will be happy.

Sadly, many in our society subscribe to the same twisted thinking that Bishop Cruz espouses. It is the old archetype of woman as seductress, maliciously tempting men and leading them to their doom. History and literature is rife with cautionary tales against falling for the sexual wiles of women, from the biblical Eve to the Sirens of Greek mythology to Nabokov’s Lolita. By telling women not to “flaunt” their sexuality, people like Bishop Cruz are demonizing women and by doing so, they are shifting the blame of rape from the rapist to the rape victim. In effect, they are saying it is the woman’s fault for giving men reason to rape them. As if men don’t have a choice in the matter! It is this generally cavalier attitude towards rape that forces victims to suffer in silent anguish and humiliation rather than bring their rapists to justice.

Then there’s Fr. James Reuter who insists that what happened wasn’t rape at all because it was consensual. Consent, James, not only means that the person must act freely and voluntarily, it must also preclude that the victim has full knowledge, understanding and acceptance of the nature of the act. Nicole was drunk out of her mind. Do you honestly believe that a person severely impaired by alcohol can act freely and have full knowledge, understanding and acceptance of what is happening to her?

It is prejudiced statements from men of the cloth like Fr. Reuter and Bishop Cruz that make me question why I bother to remain in a Church ruled by patriarchal, ignorant, sexist assholes. In the Bible, coveting, stealing and killing are three of the sins listed in the Ten Commandments. When a man rapes a women, he covets what he should not, steals what is not rightfully his, and by doing so, kills the woman’s spirit and sense of self-worth. You’d think these priests would at least remember these three commandments before they condemn Nicole and women in general. NO ONE deserves to be raped. Neither a sex worker nor the most virtuous woman on the planet. Not even when a woman is stoned or drunk out of her gourd or acting provocatively. NO ONE DESERVES TO BE RAPED.

Oscar, I would say “Putangina mo!” but that would be an insult to the prostitutes of the world. Instead I shall say “Tangaangina mo!” Your mother is a dumb bitch for raising her boy to become a sexist, ignorant, bigoted pig. May she burn in hell for what she’s done. And as for you, well, I take back what I said about no one deserving to be raped. Because obviously, you do. So here’s a Christmas wish from me to you: may you be gang-banged by five burly Americans with a frock fetish. (And that goes for your friend, James, too.)

Tigyawat sa ilong

I have a zit in my right nostril the size of a small child. It’s so bad it looks like I’m about to birth an alien booger baby into the world. I dealt with it the way anyone with an alien problem would: ruthlessly with the help of a sharp instrument—in this case, a nail-cutter. I went and ripped the fucker out. The pain was fantastic and brought tears to my eyes. Sigourney would be proud.

I rooted among my sister’s stash of ointments for benzoyl peroxide. I found countless vials and tubes with arcane descriptions like high performance balancing cleansing oil fresh, crème regenerante contour des yeux, dark spot corrector pen, fraicheur toni-active, ultimate whitening spot eraser, maquiliquide UV perfect forever, but NO benzoyl peroxide. Sweet mother of god, where is acne cream when you need it?!

I was getting desperate. Blood and fluid were dripping out of my zit non-stop. Then I remembered this bit of low-rent homeopathic wisdom. Yes, Colgate! I hurriedly stuffed toothpaste up my nose. Within five seconds I was whimpering for my Mama. What the fuck was I thinking?! I cleaned it up as best as I could, found a bottle of Betadine and shot the contents up my nose.

Well it’s stopped bleeding now and I’m just waiting for the PGH/dental office smell to go away. Tanginang tigyawat!