Why Bother?

So there goes another four years down the drain. The Olympics happens every four years, so we have around that time to turn enthusiastic kids into world-class athletes. We have around four years to scout around for individuals who, in my opinion, should be as of this point born with the ancestral DNA of mythical creatures; demigods who were kissed by the deities' own bloodline, giving them superpowers that will allow them to perform great feats.

So we ask the same question every time our athletes go home with store-bought souvenirs instead of gold medals: Why did we NOT win a single medal?

I admit, I am not a sports official so I will not be able to answer that question. Instead, I will ask a question that the ordinary guy-off-the-street could ask (and possibly answer): why do we even bother sending athletes when we know they will not win anyway?

I tried to ask a couple of people that question, and almost all of them have the same answer: Its not winning that counts, its the experience. Its the fact that we were able to represent our country in the prestigious sporting event. Its the camaraderie, its the friendship, yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah.

I got no qualms about that; but isn't it the reason why we join competitions is to win, at least? If they sent athletes for the sake of camaraderie and world peace in the first place, then they just should have sent ME instead; they will not need to spend four years training me. They will not need to spend money for my gym usage, my foreign coaches and their hotel expenses, among others. I could just show up on the day, fly out to London, march, smile, and wave on the opening ceremony, and just be crappy on the competition itself because after all, that's all I came out to do. This means that if an official from the Philippine Sports Commission would go on record in saying that winning is not important in this case, and they do not even bother thinking about ways on how to make our athletes win, and it's all about representing the country and winning just comes at a close second, then I take back everything I say.

If the coaches knew that their swimmer could never reach the best qualifying time for the medals round, then what's the point of sending him out?

MY point is, if the trainers even knew that their athletes will barely pass qualifying rounds and will have absolutely NO CHANCE of reaching the medal round, then why even bother sending them out there in the first place? If the swimming coaches knew that their swimmer could never reach the best qualifying time for the medals round, then what's the point of sending him out?

I remember two or three days ago when Olympic Team Philippines' final bet, Danny Caluag for the BMX competition, was able to qualify for the second round of eliminations. Caluag barely made it (he was in final qualifying position), and when asked if he was worried for placing last in the qualifying round and if it worried him at all, he shrugged and with all confidence, he stated that the time trials did not worry him at all, and placing last did not mean that he can't get a medal.

As of this writing, I've read in an Inquirer.net article that Caluag placed LAST (yet again) in the second round of eliminations, therefore disqualifying him from moving forward. I held on to his every word. I believed him for I did not know much about the BMX competition, so who am I to question what he can do? What happened to the bravado, the machismo, and the attitude? It would have been better if he admitted to the public that he knew that he was not going to win a medal, and he was there for the experience and the prestige of adding the title of 2012 Olympian to his name.

This being said, I say we completely FORGET about the Olympics because its hopeless and pointless; please spare us the time, money, effort, and the emotional investment because we already know the outcome. I say we invest all our powers to other sporting endeavors like football (the Azkals), Boxing (Pacquiao, Julaton, Donaire, etc.), Softball (Team Manila, recent champions of Big League Softball Championships in Michigan), and others.

Like I said, I am no sports specialist, but I suggest during the next Olympics, we should just watch the opening ceremony and then turn the TV off.

When Gods Walked Among Us

The Patron God of Lightbulbs.  Don't Ask Me Why.

As we put all of the shenanigans behind us and move forward to the unknown future, I unexpectedly realize that I am gradually becoming a part of the entire affair of the death of Dolphy.  As a longtime spectator from the window existence, little by little I sense that I am feeling the after-effects of his passing.

His movies and TV shows had become a part of our being one way or another; and for my slice of the pie, it was during the late 1980’s when RPN9 was Dolphy’s kingdom.  It started out with ‘John ‘n’ Marsha’, so I think, and then there was ‘Plaza 1899’ (where he played the captain of a barangay full of other great comedians like Panchito, Babalu, Don Pepot, and others), and then there was ‘Gabi ni Dolphy’ which was an evening variety show.  After he had gone to other things, RPN showcased Dolphy’s body of work during weekday mornings through RVQ presents, where his movies such as ‘My Heart Belongs To Daddy’,  ‘Titser’s Pet’, ‘My Bugoy Goes to Congress’, and ‘The Quick Brown Fox’ became brunch staples.

And in thinking beyond Dolphy’s passing, Fernando Poe Jr. suddenly came to mind, and I became concious of the fact that we will never again see a new FPJ film.  Going further than that, I realize that Lino Broca is dead too; and so is Rudy Fernandez, Panchito, Dindo Fernando, and all the other people who once made up what was once great in Pinoy entertainment.

As he rightfully takes his place on Mount Olympus, we now have a complete pantheon of gods looking after us, a book of heroes and legends that all should try to measure up to.

The sad fact is not because Dolphy is dead but rather he was the last one; and all of them are gone.  These folks did not just live and die in their own time, these are people whom everybody looked up to; from the aspiring dramatic actor and director to the simplest tricycle driver and blue collar family man.  All of them had something to say once, and we all listened.  We agreed and disagreed with them, imagining ourselves talking in their voices and disagreeing with them, laughing at their mistakes and see them laugh at us for ours, and despising them for their evil.

Like the ceasars and pharaohs of old, now that Dolphy is dead, he is deified.  As he rightfully takes his place in Mount Olympus, we now have a complete pantheon of gods looking after us, a book of heroes and legends that all should try to measure up to.  Future comedians, actors and directors now have patron saints; for every time they try to take their careers to the next step or even by just finishing a scene, they can now ask themselves: “Did I measure up? Am I doing right now as he did?”

Oh. I forgot! Nora and Vilma are still around, so I guess not all are lost. 

Ang Babae Sa Septic Tank: Eugene Domingo’s Film All the Way

First and foremost, I have not read a single review for the movie “Ang Babae Sa Septic Tank”, so as not to influence my critique.

Secondly, being that this is a well-loved movie, allow me to put the blame upon all the made-up hype and propaganda claiming that this film is too good to be true; and I hold the people’s word-of-mouth liable for what may sound as a bad assessment coming from me.

“Ang Babae Sa Septic Tank” stars Eugene Domingo, JM De Guzman, and Kean Cipriano, and it is an inside look into the creation of Filipino indie (independent) movies through the misadventures of three (no, two!) young filmmakers. Eugene Domingo plays a fictional  version of herself (and perhaps realistic versions of well-known Filipina actresses) who is asked to be the star in the movie that will be shot and filmed by the producer played by JM De Guzman and idealistic director played by Kean Cipriano. Not to give away any important details, the movie is about the brainstorming of two filmmakers on how to go about creating THE movie masterpiece worthy of the annual foreign film festival circuit, and along way they encounter mishaps and strange circumstances. The premise of the film-within-the-film deals with Ms. Domingo as a mother who was forced to sell one of her children to a pedophile due to extreme poverty.

It seemed as though the entire movie is an acting piece made with her in mind; a well-written personal resumé to keep the juicy parts coming in.

Now the bitter herbs: story-wise, there’s not much to go on; just a day in the life of two individuals conversing about making a movie. The supposed “plot-twists” (two of them) are strategically placed in the final moments of the movie to add extra oomph to an otherwise-dreary storytelling; I’m not even going to say why the movie is called “Babae sa Septic Tank” because I just might ruin it for folks who have not seen it yet. One could swear that they took the plot from an old high school stage play trick wherein they act out a single scene in different styles (Violent, Melodramatic, Musical, Slow Motion, etc.). Creativity and effort towards direction and production design are unmistakable (given the probable lack of budget common to these kinds of movies), but it still lacks the grip to keep viewers interested until the very last moment.

The real gem of the movie is Eugene Domingo. It seemed as though the entire movie is an acting piece made with her in mind; a well-written personal resumé to keep the juicy parts coming in. Once again she proves her adaptability in different kinds of characters; even if it is just in one movie. She upstages every single actor and actress in all of the scenes she is in. She plays the prima donna, the poor mother, the broadway performer, and the cliché drama actress all quite masterfully. The movie should have been eponymously titled “The Eugene Domingo Movie”, but that would make one of her in-movie counterparts just too happy.

Altogether, “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” is quite forgettable, but nevertheless deserves applause for the effort. There were a lot of things that could have been done to make it way better. for some people it may be enough, but take Eugene Domingo away from it and the entire picture would be crumble to dust.

We can thank them for teaching some basics on budget filmmaking, though.

Sex in the Philippine Cinema: Nude Ladies and Sex Scenes Galore! (Warning: possible explicit content)

How long has it been since we last saw a pito-pito movie?

By pito-pito movie, I mean those soft porn, for adults only movies that have absolutely no story value at all; movies that were made in seven days or less (hence the name) which translates to minimum output, maximum pay for sexual deviants masquerading as film producers in the mid to late 90’s? To be perfectly honest, the last one I saw was “Anakan Mo Ako” starring Klaudia Koronel, back when I was in college. These movies, as it may, are successors to the ST (Sex Trip) films, which are successors of the Bold Films, which were successors of the Pene (penetration, with close-ups of actual penises going into vaginas) films. Today we have indie films carrying the torch.

Forgive my innocent heart, but I thought these movies were works of art. Really. Seriously. Probably because they kept telling us that these were pieces of Rembrandts and Picassos way back when a major movie star was our president and Armida Siguion-Reyna was our MTRCB chair. I remember Armida laughing at the faces of conservatives when she allowed movies with titles such as “Malagkit”, “Kapag Ang Palay Naging Bigas May Bumayo”, “Sisirin”, “Anakan Mo Ako”, “Sex Education”, and many more, saying that they find these titles harmless and funny at worst, and they do convey important, current societal messages.

With Angela Velez’s android boobs, you can never go wrong.

When I first watched “Anakan mo ako”, it was about a dying indigenous tribe of women in which the existence of their culture depended upon the remaining two men, one of which is infertile, and the race to impregnate as many women as possible is the key to their survival. “Sex Education”, meanwhile is a coming of age story about college students who goes through trials. In the end they grow older and wiser and never look back. I found myself in the shoes of the chracters as I was going through the same things they were (pun unintended).


Back then, this was a time when my idealism was hungry and knowledge was the food of choice. Growing up in a church-going family meant that Jesus is always right and everything else is the devil (non-negotiable), and watching women perform simulated sex scenes in ridiculous movies pretending to be messages to society was a complete taboo. I was a good son, but this was my form of rebellion against the establishment, creepy and disturbing it may sound.

Idealism and rebellion withdrawn, “Anakan Mo Ako” was nothing more than a poorly-made porno. The acting, if they were acting, was horrible, and the best performance would be Klaudia Koronel’s moans and groans as she pretended to reach orgasm in all 4 of her sex scenes; and who would believe that a poor and hungry tribe of women were composed of attractive, scantily-clad, big-boobed sexpots? “Sex Education” was even more absurd and mindless; as I pretended to be watching a classic in the lines of Mark Gil’s “Batch ’81” and an edgier version of “Bagets”, I was actually watching softcore garbage with 30-something actresses pretending to be 16 or 17, having simulated sex. With Angela Velez’s android boobs, you can never go wrong.

We have Henry Sy to thank for killing the pito-pito industry when he banned showing them at SM Cinemas.


Which brings me to, believe it or not, the point of all this. As an actor on these movies, how do you grow old to live a normal life with children, knowing that there was a point in your life when you willingly allow yourself to be exposed for millions to see and allow yourselves to be masturbated upon repeatedly for generations to come? How do you get over the fact that, in the advent of the internet, your legacy to the world will be your fake boobs and your unshaved pubes for people to ogle and salivate on? And how do you live with the fact that when you type your name on Google, you will see a big picture of your hard, throbbing penis?

Just asking. Immortality’s a bitch.

A Letter of Apology

Everyday for the last 3 or 4 years, we have been bombarded by news of former president and incumbent Pampanga Representative Gloria Arroyo's alleged misdeeds and corruption while she and her husband were in power: The ZTE scandal, the Hello Garci brouhaha and the vote-rigging in Mindanao, various alleged misuse of public funds, the awesome US mansions that they owned, the midnight appointments, and much more. The day is never a day when we do not hear anything new about another government fund that was misappropriated or mishandled by her or any one of her friends in high places.

However, to make this sound less political, this really is not about our former president. This is really about me; I have been living in shame within the last decade. This is because I was not only aware about what was happening, but I also committed the unforgivable crime of letting the offenders get away with it—and grab power.

Yes. I voted for Gloria Arroyo to be president.

As far back as a year before the election, I already had my mind made up to vote for Raul Roco, and it was not a care whether he was going to lose or not; I voted for him the previous elections when he lost, but that never unfazed me. He was an honorable man and he was brilliant, and I was going to vote for him again because it was the right thing to do.

And then the unthinkable happened: Fernando Poe Jr. announced his candidacy.

I did not hold a grudge against FPJ. By then he was the greatest Filipino actor who ever lived, but it was the mere fact that he didn't know jack about politics and he was being backed up by then ultra-corrupt former president Joseph Estrada that I realized the country was going to the pits if FPJ had become president.

And then, Raul Roco was rushed to the hospital for fatigue (I think), and he had announced that he was putting a stop to his sorties in the middle of campaign period for health reasons. I was still going to vote for him, but I already had doubts. This time I began to think and weigh my decision: If I vote for Roco, he will lose anyway and I would have wasted my vote, and FPJ may get the upper hand from president Arroyo; and if that someone in the palace did not have clue on what he's doing, then the country will truly go to the dogs.

This time, family pressure was already on my shoulders. My family, the patriarch being an ultra-right wing conservative, wanted me to vote for Arroyo. For years I did not care for their political ideals because I came to realize that they have been wrong in that area before. "We do not have a choice, Paul," they said. "Would you throw your vote to a losing candidate, or would you throw it to someone who could actually win against corruption and ignorance? Do not waste your vote on someone who will not win! Vote for Gloria, and we are sure not to have FPJ as president."

The advice sounded painful, but by then I had made the most difficult decision and the biggest political mistake of my life: I heeded their advice. The tip of my pen was on the ballot, still having second thoughts; I then breathed heavily and began to write her full name above the line in capital letters: GLORIA MACAPAGAL-ARROYO. There.

I got pats on the back. Very well done, ol' chap. I did this not because of myself, but because I did not want the president of this country to be someone ignorant only to be a puppet by a gambling drunkard who we just ousted a few years ago.

Of course Arroyo won, by a margin of a million plus votes. I breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was fine for a time.

Then one scandal after another popped up. Election-rigging. ZTE. Hello Garci. Mansions. By then, I thought that I had been betrayed. Raped; sodomized by an army of demons in the depths of Hell. Every time a news article comes up, I cannot help but feel gravely responsible for it. The vote I threw for Arroyo was wasted as well anyway, being that she did not really need it. She already made up for it through the vote-rigging. I even fought for her in chat circles; I told them that these were all lies, and they should take their cases to court...

...Only to have all those cases strategically steered by a court of her own peers.

If I voted for Roco in the first place, I would not have been a part of this grand larceny. He may have lost, yes, but I should still have kept my dignity intact. I would have had the smug and smarts to stand up and laugh at those who voted for her.

Funny thing is, I think it would have been better if FPJ became president. So FPJ was the lesser evil. Imagine that.

It took time for me to realize that I am guilty. This is my fault, all this. Even this very second, the end is nowhere in sight. Arroyo still has the mists of darkness over us, but now there is a light of hope that is being held by a few. There are pain and heartaches more to come and it will probably take a few more years before we rid ourselves completely of this mess that I am partly responsible for.

I am sorry for not having a backbone to stand up for nobility. I am REALLY sorry that I listened to my family's advice; and I am sorry that I voted for Arroyo.

I hope that you all could forgive me.