THE NEW SOAP

By: Iris P. Concepcion

This year is for the pooridge and the hushed entrances of merry makers giving us all a glance of what had been oblique, tasteless and the clearly stomped.

In instances where natural egos are stoked by guilt and shame, the happy elvins of the underworld save, and save the day.

Sure looks bright: Top Ten Best Coming.

STEPPING FORWARD

By: Iris P. Concepcion

This time around, the nuggets of wisdom I had inherited from my ascendants won't come to naught. For unobliterated years, they had taught me the value of dignity even in the face of firecracker doomsayers popping on stranded kids' gaggle of giggles (nothing beats the "isa pa, isa pa" of a two-year old encouraging you to give more armpit squeezes like I am a battery of laughter).

I have seen these ascendants fought devils wearing their muddied feet and craggy faces. One thing I noticed: they never speak much. A sentence, a pause can suffice as paragraphs of spiritual and transformational undertones, sometimes hiding their majestic gloriousness in calm and quiet sobriety.

I am trying to compete, word for word, one of these admired writers but I always fail beside this towering, un-inferno scribbler. Here:

http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view/20101229-311596/Stepping-back

I felt peace upon reading that we are on same rocking shuttle, battling laser(s)words of annoyances. It feels good to have a human being accentuating what is obvious and sharing my happy clubfoot. Even if we do our defenses via quirky lollipops, humungous biscuits, funny candies, enormous diapers and underground music, the forefront is still with us. We do not need an I-pod; we aspire for body-enhancing melodies to stuff our ears with wax in G-clefts and notes.

On another note, one of my ascendants, in our weird, coming together gatherings, blurted needlessly: "I hate him. He is obtuse." I laughed, of course. It was exactly my point of contention, boiling as it were at the back of my critical mind.

I need to allow these kind of earthlings to flourish. You can sell everything in your life for that rare gift of formenting even a single, productive deed.

Then, you can walk and write and talk and laugh and smirk and contemplate even if psychotic animals are prowling on the road.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE. Thank you for visiting this corn page over the years. The cob is still strong and lately, wearing pink.

THE MOST MEANINGFUL EVENING MASS SO FAR
By: Iris P. Concepcion

The first thing I conditioned myself this Christmas is to not check on anything remotely connected with gadgets and the information highway.

My priest, a rotund, appealing speaker (he was delivering a point via word cadence) gave a notch higher meaning for the influx of various messages: the tweets are all the same.

I heeded.

Once I did, I actually lived for less, experienced a Vatican feel of a mass (University of Santo Tomas football arena), made people who are not normally givers, give, and delighted myself at the picture perfect shrieks of children who engaged themselves in an equivalent of ecclesiastical footrace for adults (one who could recite the Hail Mary in the loudest voice gets a trip to Alaska): gift bragging.

I do not know if there is a change of baptismal certificates this side of the planet but even the benefactors were shocked to find themselves sources of these wonderful surprises: their names were on the gifts where the immense word from is spelled out.

I, myself, did not give anyone anything but I am glad I wasn't singled out as one of the benevolent benefactors. There is a whole year to fill the gap up. Sniggers and smiles.

Santa Claus does not want chased; he wants to explain to this writer that his gang of reindeers and late night workers (they do plumbing, electrical fix, water connectivity, hair, pedicure and manicure, bake bread----toilers) do not simply create parks, they also have a surprise for adults. They were also sharing their music for free. Sleigh? Think of microphones instead.

Aside from the generous array of skyways and pathways that make pedestrians like me enjoy the pleasures of walking, they also showed me that even the poor can have access to world-class medical services. Not exactly the traditional practitioners of the hospital trade, they have improved the manner of getting lab tests and temperatures: these med gadgets look gorgeous and handy. My companion even went through the length of terming the equipment "cute."

Even the hospital's ward section can be decent, functional and excellent. It is clean: I have never been prouder of the people behind these improvements. They are given to people at the grassroots level.

It is another Christmas gift of wisdom and discovery.

Experiencing the best is not a luxury of the moneyed. Even those without can have an access to these traditionally nouveau riche enclaves. I count it as a meaningful blessing: it is trickling down to the mass, finally. That is Christmas at its best.

Instead of amassing large cache of worldly goods and multiplying families, I can sense that they are truly into tractors, vachoes, equipment that can be used in hospitals and other trades. They also produce rare but affordable, yummy stuff that do not scrimp on size. They are sooooo huge. It is not simply biscuit. It is BISCUIT. I had gobbled a marshmallow product that I thought at first was from the United States. The packaging is tremendously Hershey's-like (they gave this to the kids on my street). Upon reading the label, I found out that it is manufactured at Nicanor Roxas Street, Bgy. Domingo, Quezon City.

The Philippines can make stuff like this one: why hide the talent behind it?

I ate "bangus" and pancit with an old lady during Christmas Day, barehand. I was lent a liquid wash (a thing I have affinity for since way back) that was not removed from my biscuit tub when I was beginning to lose my soap. I also had these: hot choco milk, candies and a burger paid for by an elf in pink. A friend distributed candies long stuck in the refrigerator to the playing children. I think I made one cry: over the excess of not having grabbed the opportunity to correct the wrong when it could have been done.

His words: "Nagsisisi na ako Iris." I think he was sporting a boxed shin already. A Top Ten guy (great write-up at last--I sense a merging of two worlds) did it to him I suppose.

One of the corn kids actually thought of gifting me a burger when I am at my hungriest. Her words: "Natanggap mo na pagkain?" Apparently, she was given money from a baptismal event. She had it delivered. One of those Buy One, Take One offers.

She blew all her money in a computer game. She had a fit the other day why the corn would not get anything for splurging. She actually cried. I do not know why she wants me to brag: it is not just my cup of tea.

She was having games with guns being shot and I reprimanded her. It was back to doing manicures and puzzles.

My point being: this was a kid who once held me tight since a very engaging woman pointed a bubble gun at her. I was furious inside. Last Christmas, she got a bubble bin, but from the mouth of a rabbit with a grinding watermill. It is battery-operated and could form bubble foams that can cover the whole street stretch.

I mean, for fair deal, it was tops. Even the design.

And the Vatican-like mass: from the choir to the phalanx of priests who simply gave away what is the true state of our nation, it has got to be the most memorable celebration that I have attended in years.

Spoken in Tagalog, the celebrant spoke: "Sa di pa rin nakakaintindi." Followed by a loud bang. It is as succinct as a clip on a film. Even masses can be this opulent but elegant, grandeur but understated. It was a homily of hope, of giving free lanes to those who can do much to improve our state of affairs. They do not need accolades, they throw the tags away to those who need them.

One must give credit to that priest who battled it all alone in the preaching yard, sandwiched as he was in that arena of cymbals and bastions of godly roars. Even the hecklers had experienced the beauty of Yuletide words and their relevance to our daily existence.

And the choir. Always, the relevancy astounds. Since we do service to God, it is but proper to accord him godly praises too.

For the people behind this meaningful celebration: Thank You very much.

And yes, I just ate with Santa. He is tall and huge and XXXXXXLLLLLLL. He brought a coterie of winking old people who freaked me out with their film faces. I ate a super jumbo siopao and offered it to one of these guys: He refused and made an expanding square (subtext: you'll get fat). He never spoke. He put a siopao sauce to his noodles. Odd eating habbit. This is the famous place where a queer slogan is painted:

Una sa timpla. Una sa sarap.

I do not have any idea what it actually means.

The circle continues to go round and round and round and round and round and round and I am getting ultra........square.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR
By: Iris P. Concepcion

Perhaps, he could read the corn's mind.

Perhaps, there is poetic justice when people above 30s and 40s experience the American Pie pivotal scenes in reverse, over a small room and sharp talks.

And thus, the musical guy teased needlessly the woman in a frumpy dress and berserk hair as she sees the center of this blog with the stompy: "Hi."

"Ohhhhhhhh, she blushed," ascendant cum musician cum brilliant guy cum supporter cum cheerleader said, himself blushing, pointing at the object of mutual blushing source.

"He is your crush?" teasing furthermore with eyes blinking.

Like a Santa, cherries bedewed her skin and it is terrible.

She walked out, shocked to find out that after all the years of beautiful and rough travels, he can still DO it.

Blush my foot. Who would have ever thought?

From a column of Carmen Pedrosa:

Also in the interview was Peter Amores, a rich boy who studied in La Salle. He is good-looking, confident and intelligent enough to be an executive, a government functionary or a politician. But he chose a different career path to become the founder of the organization to provide football training to youth in poor communities around the Philippines.

Yes, who would have thought.

THE NEW BATTLE FOR MUSICAL SUPREMACY: EARL KLUGH vs. LEE RITENOUR
(Subtext: StronGest Points of My Chair-Better Other)
By: Iris P. Concepcion

You know how it is when you breeze through a certain groove of the mind that totally develops into a state of being: at rest, it hums like a free bird who can afford to laugh merrily at the anger and hurt and depression of those who had been slugged out on primetime, humiliated professionally perhaps out of their shelf: solid as their triumvirate of $85 camel-hopping sojourns and still, continually mad. I do not know where that immense professional sulking came from.

I advise for myself, something that you can likewise copy: listen to the mix tapes of the usual suspects.

An old Lee Ritenour vinyl mixed with rap does not sound commercial but it does bring back old memories of hopping grasshoppers and lizards on ceilings: that rare scratching of stereo needle on an LP (long playing) record that is a pretty sight for an otherwise highly-tech and mechanical engineering procedure. It operates by itself. It gets aloft like a robot, in exact numbering, and lands on the record like a ballet dancer's tutu romancing the dancing floor.

And that rare shshhshhshhhhsrrrrssst sound goes with the opening notes. The art of cleaning up the vinyl in that powder-puff like, round thing, removing dust from the rotating table. It is like a Japanese-looking brusko having rabbit-teeth looking for clothes.

I am astonished: Handsome Daddy has a deep, I mean DEEP playlist. Lou Rawls to Mabuhay Singers. Extensive. I mean, massive.

Thus: I ponder. This total wonder as written below. By people who can't dig Lou Rawls.

I like this outburst of shriek, this fortitude to whack. They all make noise about genitals (they'd be upping the level of discussion to armpits, elbows, and again, the boring genitals---they must be so obsessed with getting laid they could not stop yacking about it) and how they are mutilated and scraped and all that gore. My man just says: Oh, look at the clock.

It points perpetually at 8:00.

That is an intelligent man's treatise on productivity. It is magnificent; a psychology find for the superb and the understated. It ceases to be a threat since we are just barfing all around to make the very obvious statement.

Let us put it this way: there is a wish list coming from a woman who had paid his dues to widen the roads. She had delivered half of the list in a hilarious manner. And it was fun looking at that, done.

About the creative subtext, the guy actually hates me for my needless, unmoving stature. Exasperation, howl and it is funny looking at that, totally. He does not blow his top and I am wondering how it works for him.

He just placed our wrecked chair in the middle of the road: with kids performing gymnastics on it. I never did understand how brilliant he is with handling his stature. I am extremely shamed that I had ascribed nerdiness to a clearly reinvigorating, adventurous, smart, brave soul of the world. He goes to Bangkok and does not visit its brothels. He just stays in his hotel looking like a sad sack as his siblings scout the flea markets.

Really? Look at that impish grin.

What have I done to bump into such a terribly pious and wild man of the universe, I can only surmise.

Developing a weird crush on someone you have loved in reverse, fart and all, is horror. At 40? Ostentatious, rough, evil and tacky.

Damn if this is still logical and sane. Get your Earl Klugh record and play it till Christmas.

Goryong!!!!!!

From the President this time:

Be thankful to God for your blessings and put others' welfare before yours.

These were part of the Christmas message of President Benigno Simeon Aquino III posted on the Official Gazette on Wednesday.

In his message, taped earlier on Monday at the Rizal Ceremonial Hall of the Malacañang Palace, Aquino urged Filipinos to share the Christmas spirit not only this Yuletide season but the whole year round.

"Hindi kaya’t mas bibilis pa ang ating pag-unlad kung ang kapakanan ng ating kapwa ang uunahin bago ang sarili? Sama-sama nating abutin ang ating mithiin, kung saan ang nagmamalasakit at minalasakitan ay parehong nagagalak ngayon o pagkalipas man ng Pasko," he said.

(Will we not fare better if we put the welfare of others before ours? Let us sacrifice for others and bring joy both to ourselves and our neighbors.)

Aquino said he is happy that the hard work of Filipinos, along with their unity and "bayanihan" spirit amid hardships, is bearing fruit.

"Malaki na ang ipinagbago ng ating kalagayan mula sa ating dinatnan (We have come a long way from the problems we went through)," he said.

He urged Filipinos to be thankful to God for giving His only Son to save mankind.

"Pasasalamat sa Poong Maykapal na inialay sa atin ang sarili Niyang anak upang iligtas tayo sa ating mga kasalanan," he said.

(We must be thankful to God who gave us His only Son that we may be saved from our sins.)

Full text of the President's Christmas message

Isang masagana at maligayang pasko po sa inyong lahat.

Madalas nating naririnig na iba talaga ang Paskong Pinoy. Nasa loob man o labas ng ating bansa, damang-dama natin ang ngiti at saya tuwing nagtitipon at nagdiriwang ang buong pamilya.

Lubos akong nagagalak sa ating pagsisikap na itaguyod ang kultura at mga kaugaliang bumubuo sa ating pagka-Pilipino: pagkakaisa, pagbabayanihan, at pag-asa sa harap ng anumang pagsubok.

Lagi po sana nating isapuso sa kabila ng ating pagdiriwang ang tunay na diwa ng Pasko:

Pasasalamat sa Poong Maykapal na inialay sa atin ang sarili Niyang anak upang iligtas tayo sa ating mga kasalanan.

Nawa’y maipamalas din natin ang ganitong pagmamalasakit at pagmamahal sa ating kapwa.

Malaki na ang ipinagbago ng ating kalagayan mula sa ating dinatnan.

Hindi kaya’t mas bibilis pa ang ating pag-unlad kung ang kapakanan ng ating kapwa ang uunahin bago ang sarili?

Sama-sama nating abutin ang ating mithiin, kung saan ang nagmamalasakit at minalasakitan ay parehong nagagalak ngayon o pagkalipas man ng Pasko.

Nawa’y maging masaya at makabuluhan ang inyong mga Pasko sa piling ng inyong mga mahal sa buhay.

Muli, maligayang Pasko po sa inyong lahat.

GREATNESS
By: Iris P. Concepcion

"We can always start with showing public derision at those who betray their calling, which is to make law serve justice and not thwart it, by making them pariahs in their own country. We can always make the shameless feel truly shameless. That is Public Opinion. That is power."--Conrad de Quiros

This morning, I browsed the three leading broadsheets of the country. They seem to be getting thinner daily. I do not know how much it costs to print on paper nowadays. My newspaper delivery guy said over the curious page : "If I can pose in buff there next time, perhaps, they'd buy it."

He was referring of course to a newspaper that is not my first reading priority in these transformational times.

Instead of the fashion page, I saw an advertisement for chicken instead. Are we moving on to a new dimension of serving print justice?

Perhaps, we are.

I am beginning to realize that the business pages are getting bulkier (good twirl), giving opportunities and investments their own limelight parade (cymbals, drums and bass) in the riotous and wild reading field. I have wished for this during my earlier, nondescript, writing career. I am astonished it is coming into full fruition.

I was a girl who wrote about soap suds for a business space. I have come a long, long way I suppose. Now, I am the girl who owns a corn blog.

Shift in the course of how we receive information is no longer a monopoly of the traditional, adhesive writing band. The world is extending, and so does the multiple access on how we actually view it. I heard a very sane man speak overnight: there is a need to redefine the role of editorship and I personally believe, it is finally breaking in.

Case in point: My revered, favorite columnist above spelled a director's name as Jim Liberan. It is no typo, laughing matter. It is as it should be.

Of course, you occasionally encounter the non-sequiturs of Tagalog obscenities hurled at those who perform well, but that is likewise a moronic privilege, if you ask me.

Who shall define for us this burst of enigmatic entrance onto a wonderful unknown? Why is this breed having the day of their lives while taking on the hardest responsibilities on earth?

What the hell is this exciting, creatively manipulative, bold, daring, conscientious bang onto the medium? Who started it?

And why do the bearers of lightsabers look gorgeous?

Writers like this mammal from Manila Bulletin:

Palace, BSP defend peso printing errors

By MADEL R. SABATER

December 20, 2010, 12:45pm

MANILA, Philippines – Malacañang said on Monday that the Office of the President (OP) had nothing to do with errors found on some new Philippine peso bills and took a swipe at the opposition for trying to pin blame on the Aquino administration.

Probed by reporters regarding some graphical errors on the new bank notes, Presidential Spokesman Edwin Lacierda said the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas (BSP) should be the one to explain the errors.

“The BSP and the Monetary Board were the ones that crafted the new bills, hindi dumaan sa [it was not coursed through the] Office of the President because they’re independent so we have no comment on the matter,” Lacierda said.

“We would like to ask the BSP to explain,” he added, as he stressed that the Office of the President was not involved in the production of the new peso bills, which took three years to develop.

Lacierda said those who had pointed out the errors are the same ones who keep criticizing the Aquino administration.

“They’re nitpicking. It’s very clear, even if it wasn’t the responsibility of the Executive Branch or at least the Office of the President, they’re finding ways and they’re trying to gather all they can to hit on the President even if he’s not totally involved in some of the actions,” Lacierda said.

He also assured that the Aquino administration will just do its job and carry on with reforms towards transparency and accountability, particularly in the coming year.

“They shall wait for us next year. Our promise is to deliver next year,” Lacierda said.

“ The budget has been approved so we can work in which, if they want, we have the budget to do all the things that we need to do for next year – infrastructure-wise and program-wise, we’ll be hitting the ground running next year,” he added.

On Monday, the BSP defended its new peso notes, mocked by critics for featuring error-strewn maps of the country and apparently inventing a new species of parrot.

The BSP started shipping the bills to banks last Friday and they should be publicly available by Christmas, BSP Deputy Governor Diwa Gunigundo said.

He defended the artistic rendition of Philippine maps appearing on the 20-, 50-, 100-, 200-, 500-, and 1,000-peso notes (45 US cents-22.59 dollars), which excluded the Batanes islands near Taiwan and misplaced some of the country's top tourist draws.

“If we want to make the Philippine map that specific and accurate we would have had to draw all 7,000 islands,” Gunigundo said in an interview on DZBB radio.

“What we wanted to do was abstract the general location of all these important parts of the Philippines,” he said.

Map makers, including one of the experts drafted to delineate the boundaries of the Tubbataha Reefs natural park in 1994, have pointed out that the spectacular coral formation was misplaced by hundreds of kilometers.

Gunigundo also defended the rendering of a rare native bird, the blue-naped parrot, on the 500-peso bill, saying it was patterned after the yellow color scheme of the denomination.

The Wild Bird Club of the Philippines, a birdwatchers' organization, has insisted the yellow-beaked parrot on the note does not exist anywhere in the country, since in real life the bluenaped parrot has a red beak.

Launched on Dec. 16, 2010, the new Philippine bank notes have been lauded by President Aquino for its improved security features that would make counterfeiting more difficult.

Aside from its enhanced security features, the new P500-bill showcases the image of the President’s parents: the late former Sen. Benigno Aquino, Jr. and late former Pres. Corazon Aquino with President Benigno S. Aquino III’s signature, which is said to be the first in the world to have both parents and their son to be featured in one bank note.

Or this, from the Philippine Star:

Noy hits critics of new bank notes

By Aurea Calica (The Philippine Star) Updated December 21, 2010 12:00 AM Comments (33)

MANILA, Philippines - President Aquino lashed back yesterday at the critics of the new bank notes, saying they should get a “map or a GPS” if they want to be geographically correct and not nitpick on the bank notes’ design.

“We should ask the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas. It’s not a map, it’s not a cartographer’s sketch, there’s a degree of artistic license also,” Aquino told reporters in an ambush interview at the airport where he surprised overseas Filipino workers returning for the holi- days.

“If I want to find out about a particular area I’ll look for a map, or I’ll go to the GPS (Global Positioning System). The currency, there’s finite amount of space on the bill and you’re supposed to include so many things... the history, the sights,” Aquino said.

“We’re inviting tourists to come and visit, our aspirations, and then you put it in what? Two inches by five inches. Itong magagaling, baka (these clever guys, maybe) they want to do it in a particular canvass,” Aquino said.

Aquino said the new bank notes have improved security features and are harder for counterfeiters to copy.

“We want to make it difficult to fake the bill because the (past) designs have been there for a long time now. The advances in technology make it easier to duplicate bills that have been in existence. There are many security features and I think the objective will be achieved,” Aquino said.

Presidential spokesman Edwin Lacierda said critics were obviously nitpicking as they pointed out the geographical errors in the new bills. They also said the color of the rare parrot’s beak in the P500 was wrong.

“It’s very clear, even if it wasn’t the responsibility of the executive branch or at least the Office of the President, they’re finding ways and they’re trying to gather all they can to hit the President even if he’s not involved in some of the actions. They shall wait for us next year. Our promise is to deliver next year. The budget has been approved so we can work (and)… do all the things that we need to do for next year – infrastructure-wise and program-wise, we’ll be hitting the ground running next year,” Lacierda said.

Lacierda said the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas, the Monetary Board and the Numismatic Society were the ones which designed the new bills and that as independent institutions, they didn’t have to seek approval of the Office of the President.

Speaking to ANC, BSP Deputy Governor Diwa Guinigundo said some of the alleged errors are not errors but “abstractions of reality.”

“I don’t think we want to describe them as errors. They are abstractions of reality. Abstractions in the sense that number 1, the map is not really complete in the sense that what we really wanted to show is the general geographical location of the six important World Heritage sites in the Philippines, for example, the Mountain Province which houses the Rice Terraces,” he said in an interview on ANC’s “Headstart.”

LITTLE CHRISTMAS DEWS
BY: Iris P. Concepcion

I was having a mid-morning coffee outside my sentinel's den with the usual array of people mounting their works: mothers feeding their children; opening of stalls; newspapers sold; coffee sipped and words slurred.

A familiar face of a guy parked his car outside. It is sky blue. With ample cheeks and happy smile, he asked if he could use the space for parking. I said "Yes."

As usual, was haggling kids for small bargains--small shrieks, new blabber of poetry (they speak in tongues), laughter galore. They never disappoint me. There goes the unique shrieks and cries and mouths tumbling down the throats with vocalized grins. Our smallest tot bonged his biscuit can, singing Jingle Bells.

The parking guy returned. He left three 5 peso coins in front of the kid. This whole transaction of glorifying humanity (I do not know why he needs to pay for a stalled car) sank in.

We forgot to thank the man. We can buy one diaper for the money he had mistakenly construed as a Christmas carol. Now the cute she does not have to pee and walk in shambles like a damp mitten.

I had likewise, sporadically, eaten cinnabons on plate, halved bread, rice, free choco toppings, biscuits, sweets, seemingly out of nowhere. I can also read newspapers for free. I always return them semi-dishevelled. The newspaper guy always teaches me how to fold it properly.

A guy placed his empty lacto-bacilli drink bottle on a toe of a snoring person lying on a tricycle. He has a dome tummy. It was hilarious.

I just read an article by Eddie Ilarde. Gad. Student Canteen resurrection? Baffling. Internet is a real goldmine for comedy skits.

In between extolling the flock to reform, a priest says something like Samurai-Wit among the biblical passages. And he says horrifying adjectives like "Still The Mary Immaculate Conception" like it is 1920. Very Ava Gardner. He showers his flock with not sprinkles, but loads and loads of water. The best place to pray even if it gained a notoriety as the church with the most split couples (if you wed here).

A short guy crying : "I am a Mary believer." Weird.

Nothing beats a good night sleep though. I think I could doze off above a ceiling, on a tin roof, and I'd still snore like a whale (better other always points this out: I do not know where he got my sleeping dossier).

(I am alarmed that this kid beside me is sipping black coffee and dunking his bread on it).

So many opening and closing parentheses on this entry. Where I am writing at, there's a freshly brewed coffee given for free. I can walk briskly. I am eating hamburger. I was not elbowed by a crazy mob in the last 22 hours. I am searching for an orphan this Christmas without realizing that I AM ONE.

I do not know if I can still enter that fabulous airport. I wish I had its interiors camera-ed (my kids do not dig publicity and I hate them for it). All steel, very Superman. The ones helping the OFW's are so young. I could only see their eyes from my seat, like a cartoon strip. It is terribly kewl.

I always wake up to a bright, yellow ribbon: it perks up my day, always.

Sad Christmas? Think again.

Like today: I listened to a Coldplay song "Yellow" redone by a dear friend. He is a brilliant salesman cum gossip fodder. It eerily sounds like the voice of our prexy. The lyrics went this way:

"Am gonna stick my tongue for all the things I've done, and it is called yellow."

P.S. Azure not as nerve-tingling as Crimson. But I like anything with blue on it, as a matter of fact. Note to post: WHAT are you?

EXCESS
By: Iris P. Concepcion

Most of the fascinating reads I have gorged on and had gained access to in the past years came from the Web.

It is not exactly a fastidiously, prosy kind of sentence build-ups: I have actually read BETTER sentence structures than these.

The first time I realized this was when I bumped my letter-fancy eyes to a site. I was instantly inspired by McSweeney's, a New Yorkian type of off-the-box critique on everything, from eyebrows to leggings to undiscovered vinyls. No ads, no pop-outs, just a canvass of words existing as monuments to visceral and auditory experimentations that are beyond hyper-realism. These are the insane mind bites (insane in that they can afford to be freely brilliant) without begging nor pestering for any feedback whistle.

These are writers who would not sell their douchiness for inglorious ratings. They can afford to be rich that way.

From then on I would match the flux of these word architectures with actual print fixes. They became my yardstick for craftsmanship, not the other way around. It is not obligated to commercials nor to muscling bigwigs, thus, this unconstrained travels of the cranium without the guilt disorders accompanying it.

Most of my fiction germinated from this process. I have seen my works redone, re-edited, stolen, mocked and slashed by the better-equipped word technocrats. My computer crashed one time as people visited my room, innocently picking on my keyboards. I am trustful of friends. I do know who they are right now.

My real editors preferred visiting me at the house though, with my manuscripts pencilled in by unique annotations. Over noodles and pasta, we have reached, communication-wise, far-ranging topics like theater, films, rivers and the tawdry happiness arising from sporadic moments of solitude.

A sample of our discussion: The art of having mosquito nets where marital brawls are staged in some far-flung barrio setting. I do not think we need to, ever, dissect the sanctity of variety show dance sequences with much vigor and immortal passion after this nonsensical delving into the psyche of creative quest.

Now, we have seen the fruits of these gigantic pursuits for excellence. In reverse, we pray in silence. We have the armory to improve the guilds of aesthetic productions but chose the opposite. Instead of embracing the world with its natural sources of inspiration, we stepped on it with our new-found stilletos and focused camera angles. We are so tired of the quest that we could not write more than that. We equate our triumphs with the number of conquests we have bagged along the way and we weep whenever we see our beautiful, discretionary decisions.

That is hardcore drama, if you pin it down to that level.

Come to think of it, these are excellent film scripts, staring right into your faces. Only fools will not grab the opportunity to write them down.

If this creative excess could not mount a cultural awakening Byzantinian in nature, I wouldn't know what will.

Yes, the Web taught me this. Mainstream media had dulled me for a long time. The wave of Internet information opened up a world unshackled by traditional gatekeepers that are content with repeating formulaic mind settings.

Here, excess is good. Here, excess is tranformational. Here, excess is even Godly.

Here, exacting creative revenge is sweet: even my local panciteria has a crazy guy refusing the food of his heckler. Such dignity. The dialogue went:

Hefty guy: "Sira ulo na yang pari....ni reyp kasi yung kapatid, walang alam."

Bystanders: "Di naman po siguro."

Hefty guy: "Hoy tanggapin mo yang pizza na binibigay sa yo!!" (my only participation here, as the pizza giver).

Bystanders: "Di ka naman po pinapakialaman."

Hefty guy goes to the cashier for his leftover to be packed.

Waitress: "Bakit di nyo na lang ibigay to sa sira ulo na sinasabi nyo. Wala siyang makain."

Hefty guy: "Hoy ito, kainin mo...ayaw mo? Ha? Ha?"

Crazy guy received it but was saying "coconut", waving it for people to view his given loot. His way of saying, I do not like to eat.

Hefty guy: "Ayaw mo talaga? Akina, isoli."

Crazy guy politely gave it back but only after giving me a contented smile.

Moral of the story: Had he seen I was not hungry enough, he would have gotten my pizza. But he saw through that and left me, as is.

Title of Film: Street Dignity. Even paupers can teach us a thing or two about principle.

Do I need a station to improve on this impromptu celluloid?

Here, even excess is functional.

HOW IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED YESTERDAY

By: Iris P. Concepcion

I did not use the goggles above to digest what actually happened yesterday.

Here I go again. Words spill out from the scribbling bin and the most chased man is taking a nap after one day of overtly disciplined interaction.

I just figured it out: I got my Valentine present this Christmas.

And this actually happened yesterday. There is a faster, speedier, more efficient manner of accomplishing tasks without ruining a rebonded hair, cracking shoes nor overtly dramatizing the relentless pouring of guilt tears.

This is what the children had taught me to explain what actually happened yesterday (redundancy for better recall):

1.) The new radical twist to fist fighting is hosing down on whatever belittles the capacity of the mind, hindering the opening of creative valves. Staging a protest these days is not a manufactured march into the fray. It is a protest for, and exclusively for, societal excellence. This is not wasted on littering the roads with leaflets (who shall pick up the garbage after?). This is done in rooms of brainstorming: drawing the maps for improvements without the diversionary sights of alluring basketball hoops (they shall come in due time, and only upon a merited nod) nor skimpy skirts with extended legs dumbing the mind for possible work relapses.

2.) You always lead by example. What if government had actually instituted transformative things but does not fret, lose sleep nor bother about feedback i.e., we need to trumpet this via a massive p.r. machinery work. What if, there is indeed a side of this country that can achieve efficiency without much blah and fanfare?

3.) I have often heard silly stuff like M is young, he does not know anything. Yesterday, I actually saw what is the reverse: mayhem on the streets with numerous vendors defying zoning orders. There are areas where they are actually countenanced and encouraged to be undisciplined. Some people go the extra mile to pay thousands for this contrived chaos (how boring). In X-Marked areas where gongs stay soft but ring loudly in efficacy, public-urban planning is working well without the deafening howls. I told a taxi driver: this feels not like the Philippines. Given the free hand to design and change the unappetizing main thoroughfares, they not only deliver but they deliver with pleasing aesthetics.

4.) The more you have access to people who frame the world, the more you must be circumspect and careful how to utilize this link to positive use. It is not a gateway for eternal free loads, leisure and pleasure and obsessive binging. Some of the the most successful people I know only eat bread while their creations are utilized by millions of beneficiaries.

5.) It feels extremely good to be a part of an allegedly naive and inexperienced bunch of molders (they are really excellent implementors: they walk their talk). Whenever I see the various structures used by even an ordinary person (could be part of the mob or plain mass), I am thankful for arriving at this realization. Similar to coming into full circle. Designing the minds who design the world is no easy task but it warms the breeches of contentment in the long run. When they reroute their previously fixated priorities like caving in to hormonal passions, they now switch if for projects replete with national interest.

A guy serving me my usual fare of breakfast (seldom--if I got the extra dough) asked me in his uniquely smirky, odd-faced way what I am writing using the borrowed table. He queried if I am writing a love letter.

I howled back:

"NAH. I AM WRITING SO YOU CAN WALK SAFELY ON THE STREETS WITHOUT GETTING ELBOWED."

See? He provided me a reason for writing without me knowing it.

The picture above? That is how two of the corn's children genuflect over the calm of pretense. They do this in, like, seconds while sleeping.

Terrible work habit, but it works.

THE CHRISTMAS TREE IN THE REFURBISHED AIRPORT

By: Iris P. Concepcion

I did confess here that I may have to leave this page for a long period of time. You see, I am chasing Santa's sleigh. It is worth the sloping experience since one of the crawling turtles has a crush on one of the reindeers.

I sent off a niece of mine at the airport (she is celebrating Christmas with her parents abroad) earlier and saw some of the pertinent changes in the processing procedures (NAIA T3). Even my niece was impressed: space-wise---a breeze, uncluttered lobby, affordable food (one always associates airport food with expensive prices). Inside it was a bust of our revered martyr Ninoy Aquino with his immortal words: "The Filipino Is Worth Dying For."

On top of it was an advertisement of two women leisurely bathing in spa (you couldn't miss the faces: they are this country's most photographed innovators) and the time clocks flashed all over the world: Paris, US, Dubai, Istanbul and so on and so forth. This is for an international destination lane.

I have experienced riding in this area twice in my life and I shall confess, it makes travelling educational and extra pertinent. It is, moreover, race sensitive. It has a special area for Muslim women to perform their religious rituals. I could not dissect enough the fact that, again, young people in these islands who have visions larger than search talents and cookie baking did this country extremely good. In just four months!

If a lot of people bicker on them for not owning enough riches, perhaps, the better explanation is: they did not pocket enough for personal gratifications but instead funneled it to public structures. Like the parks and airports: this is a side of this country that actually shows public service can be worldclass (like Singapore), efficient, sane and disciplined. You can choose various rides from the area: bus, taxi (fixed rate) and even jeepneys are accessible if you care to walk far enough. There are safe sidewalks to trod on. I have seen visitors not being harassed at the exit gate for freebies.

We passed by the old terminals and you can thus compare: this could only be the best defense against the raging howlers. I do not know if they can muster enough courage to experience the affordable but posh amenities though: it cuts like a conscience-invader. I think they termed the improvements as AJA (Association of Japanese and Anglo Conglomerate)----or something to that effect. It is ISO-certified (it definitely shows).

The buffet lunch/dinner does not reach three hundred pesos (P300); the personnel courteous and fast. There is no mayhem along the alleys. Every person seems to know where to put himself/herself in that surface of efficiency: toe the line, line-up, be quiet and ask the guards for direction.

Now I know why it is not merely wagging its tail this time. This is Pinoy country at its best.

Thanks Juan, truly, for making us number ONE! We build airports and you can only hack us.

And now, the GOOD news from Manila Bulletin:

A click a day, keeps the guilt away

By LAUREN ACURANTES

December 16, 2010, 9:12pm

GLOBALMOJO - Use your mouse to do some good. Photo from globalmojo.com.

Ever wanted to do some good while just sitting in front of your computer? Several websites now offer you the ability to do just that.

GlobalMojo is a free web browser that has aligned itself with several different internet companies to allow users to donate money to charities of their choice. Users just have to use their services or click on their ads.

A simple search on Yahoo, for instance, would yield a 10-cent profit. Over time you can see those donations add up and before you know it, you have already donated five dollars to the World Wildlife Fund (or whichever charity is close to your heart), all by just browsing and clicking away.

Available as a stand-alone browser or as plug-in for Firefox, the browser is made from Mozilla’s open-source technology so you are assured of its speed and reliability.

So far the charities covered are all based in the US and Canada, but some of them, Ancop Foundation Inc., for example, is a charitable institution aimed at providing quality education for the less fortunate children in the Philippines.

Feed your vocabulary, feed the world
Another website with a heart, Freerice.com, promises to give exactly what it says, free rice.

The people behind this quirky, little online word game promises to donate grains of rice to the United Nations World Food Program for every question players answer correctly.

The game is played by logging into the website and getting a page that shows a word on top and four others at the bottom. All one has to do is pick the correct meaning of the word. Simple.

The words are also pretty basic so it’s good practice even for elementary school children.

Every question answered correctly garners 10 grains of rice; get five in a row and they will donate 50 in your behalf. The more people who play, the more rice is donated to feed the hungry.

The site also allows users to create groups so you and your friends (and others around the world) can you use it as a worthwhile way to network socially.

STILL.....KIDS' PLAYGROUND

By: Iris P. Concepcion

Dinosaurs, great bench concepts, shoe house, dragon tail and a kid's widest smile gobbling an ice cream with deliberate gusto.

My cheap cellphone took these pictures: I ceased using it for texting.

One can sleep and have a picnic here.

Cost?

Just ten bucks.

For added fun, visit mnn.com, it is good for your eyebrows.

This is already customary to me: people speaking in tongues and ascendants wiggling their tongue tails for me not to alight, be poised,stay in a corner. When I did, more riches are known and I always end up asking the questions. Eventually, you see more and more of the reasons why you get singled out for your ferocious words. It is a badge to have this warped affinity: it is almost crazy egging on but there it is. I think I want to be a pauper with enough cash for eternal slides at the playground than experiencing the Marco Polo discoveries.

New word coined by kids: elepante. For elephant.

To my forefathers, friends, fat and thin and sometimes ugly and beautiful and smart and senseless children:

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL EARTHLINGS! CHEERS!

CHILDREN'S PLAYGROUND

By:Iris P.Concepcion

In my almost existentialist forays unto the world of the living for the past six years that had seen and heard isolation, loss, bullying, threats and digging unto the psychology of persons (the best gauge is how they react to money), I am thankful that I have seen the better side of humanity without the benefit of headlines and much mouth bullhorning. I often wonder why I must be so stubborn getting my own way, on my own terms, even if I have to shrink whatever I currently own. Let it be, but let it be for NOT following what is just popular.

Years ago, I had written some of my rough ideas on how I would like to be governed as a citizen. Some of them had been copied or extracted by inutile and haughty basketball players who thought that height is a badge to earn credibility. Not. I emailed these aspirations via a State of the Nation pseudo address. I wrote about my small nuggets of un-wisdom on this website.

I am not sure who had accidentally bumped into my words. By sheer magic and wonder, the things I aimed for on a public scale (those that could benefit millions and not just the upper echelons of society) started raining down on the fields. I did ask for better public parks; for better-looking pathways; for faster-functioning government agencies.

By long shot, I did wish for a corrupt-free society.

Since I am a walker, I wished for safer road pathways. And well-constructed roads. I got this eventually via the more circumspect group of public servants. I dub them my public, working boyband. There are lots of them milling: I saw these figureheads when I was taking the pictures above.

Yes, they are still not haughty to take credit for the things they had started. Unpublicized implementation of public works seem to make them hermetian all of a sudden. In fact, out of their generosity of appropriation, they placed the names of people other than them in the wall of appreciation. Garbage cans bear the names of politicians that they have never handled; societies get congratulated for things that they had not solved.

This place is a labor of fatherly love; of a ring hellbent on making my wishes come true. Anyone who says I am shooting for nothing must come visit the places I am writing here. I have been to this area before and the carabao was not even cleaned up. The brains behind the improvised lot have benches carried by frogs; shoes straight from my fantasy fairy tale books. They even have the gift of laughter as them creators painted the crocodiles with their favorite colors(yellow, purple,green,blue). The old structures, you can likewise compare with the new ones: the old ones have sand structures underneath the swing and seesaw.

Go to the comfort room: there is a good, mall-like, expensive faucet and heavens, it is working. It is Italian-made.

I texted my ascendants, this may not cost much but out of the little amount that you have contributed, creatively, you have made a lot of people below 10"feet extremely happy. They need not buy P100 worth of game cards now to play the wild imaginings of their tender, creative life.

I might not be writing daily on this blog since I am following Santa on his sleigh, hence, I play favorites as a way to thank all the people who had formed my own way of thinking in an embracing and expanding way. The way you have treated me shall last a long, long time in my memory of scribbling existence.

TOP LIST OF CHRISTMAS "MADAMDAMING SALAMAT":

1.) The newspaper Philippine Star= In case you have not noticed, most of my favorite people's words reside inside these pages. And in case you have not noticed more, they are giving a new twist to writing that is grand, illuminating, upfront and reading further, overtly original. I have not experienced this kind of editorial hand in my entire life of digesting letters. It is a difficult task, you can see its style being labored for hours inside a dinghy, alternate world of sourcing. It reads like an underground blog, even. I have been with its writers, at some cornerstore, or at junkyards, one time or another. Certain days, they might be snuffed but when this corn's spawn handles the gateway, expect a hullabaloo of extraordinary burst of fantastic information. I never thoroughly liked this paper before since the topmost columnist in this island is Conrad de Quiros ( a writer for a rival paper) but as I went along in my quest for the creatively true, I found my eyes looking for Star's blue and yellow logo. I feel safe among its writers. Its Lifestyle and Young Star sections have the best content in terms of breaking the rules of being pioneering. Yes, they are MY children. All of them.

2.) DA-ED magazine = I do not know if I have read its articles. One of its frontcovers was printed in glaring green with the face of a Marilyn-Monroe like woman in black clutches. Try if you can look for a copy of this one. Its presentation blew me at first glance.

3.) Daddies and Mommies = I had often been singled out that I do not seem to warm verily to women presences but I did. I especially like my petite one who had packed a lifeworth of stories in 10 minutes of exchange--from sexual beginnings to politics without having to throttle the obvious down my cranium. She is a very intelligent woman and had raised her kids well. My fathers: what can you say? Part bohemes, comedians, protectors, innovators, shoemakers, howlers and fulltime directors. It is cool that they are hefty and huge and goodlooking and very, very frank. These are not sissies of the underworld. And they cry with me, and that's the most manly thing you can ever achieve in this world of emergencies and Pacquiaos. And they are not loudmouthed dead guys with potbellies filled with humbug. That is for tailenders, I suppose. My Dad played a song for this unsatisfied political hustler: He Can't Get Any Satisfaction. Still looking for life's meaning even at twilight years is a testament to his calm, serene and diplomatic style. I always fight, and I fight for the mistresses who had been whacked by these Pegasus habitues. Oh Lord, give them the gift of comprehension as they watch their kids being cared for in slides by a family not their own. Around his time, while they are pissing off people, a kid is being guided to her/his Christmas gathering, complete with toys and gifts. How to preserve that wonder, that is my case.

4.) Restaurateurs who had given me different tastes of the palate without the loud P.R. blah. I had bought them cheap. Part of the fun is finding their locations. I am always guided by gut names: Joe's or something wind-like in direction shall always land me on the right spots, more often than not. I still have to find my better other's salad, he had been harping about it for ages.

5.) My better other, and the President for giving someone a chance like me to dream and dream big, despite the last sentences of the third item. Number One people need not talk for who else is above them except an immaculate sky?

Go on creating, children of God. Stay away from pools. Mommy will buy wings for you.

CLICK..............ME

By: Iris P. Concepcion

Shuffled leaves of pages hit the period as things unfold, miraculously from the innate craftsmanship of children.

These are snapshots taken by happy hands. Hands that irk, probe, question, chastise, worry, laugh, sleep, yawn, scratch and well, sit down. Hands that have mouths, hands with 236 fingers clicking the camera's "click" mode that dig deep, looking for the better meaning of life (forget I wrote the last words--it is stupid and it is mine).

The first shot speaks for itself. That is a page of a film pitch, inviting creative investors to try the Philippines as a shooting location. I was alarmed by the numerous dots. In case you are wondering who owns that black-pencilled annotation, let us make her the mystery girl of the moment.

The next shot is the cornkid's scribbling. I could not, for the life of me, force her to reply to queries that she does not like to answer. This is part of her exam. The item drew an "ant" and she must identify what the insect is in its Filipino equivalent term. It is langgam.

Why on earth she would write the lgorog twiddle is beyond my comprehension but I totally laughed over this creepy stubbornness; this devil-may-care attitude that some quarters may frown upon. Of course, I told her it was the wrong letters she had placed.

She simply gave me a knowing, throaty smile that is definitely deep-timbred. It is totally zombie for shock value.

Well, there is your profound answer to all the terrible questions thrown at this writer:

Lgorog.

On another note: Have you ever tried waking up to hilarious music that is supposedly, in intent and meaning, not originally a funny material? I never get spectacular music from my radio (although I do catch irreverent but dynamo music there once in a while) but the oddest places.

I watched a film that is not either on DVD or Betamax (wala lang, I like writing the word Betamax, it is so dinosaur) and in between breaks, I had listened to the best sounding disco tracks I haven't heard in years. I have the option to turn off the inanity but I could not bring myself to shut off the otherwise dug masterpieces of the down and yonder. They are irresistible. Of course, out of enjoying myself over the melodies and musical progressions, I have to be stunted by apocalypsian thunderstorms. I do not know: how can I be so silly, lame, humbug and content like a bug and laughing like an ass most of the time? Do I need to pay for this secret clown dancing over my head?

I think I need a salad but I need to grow vegetables to eat one. Perhaps, I'd start by picking on trees, toss in some duct water and fight everyone with a spoon. Who knows?

Someone is not going to get his salad though. Truly, that was an awful, awful, miserable, miserable column. But the products are primetime comedy, I'll give you that.

“I am grateful that you have chosen to tread the straight path with us, the path that leads to human development and ultimately to national progress. Thank you for making the world a better place, one hour at a time,” the President added.--President Noynoy Aquino

GIVING
By: Iris P. Concepcion

The President of the Philippines delivered this in a caucus concerning a private funding for children. The organization aims to help destitute kids in their educational travails, this quest for knowledge as they discover the world of amazing possibilities that could mold them as productive citizens of this country.

I have seen the film Happyland and saw how the greased children of a slum ghetto had received a box filled with shoes from one kindly Father who sprung out the gift out of nowhere. The amount raised for this noble cause (staggering amount) could easily finance the sporting aspirations of these kids. When I saw the director of the film blinking and holding back his tears when the film closed in its world premiere showing, I felt for him.

I likewise received a message that divulges much of how we see the world differently:

"One day, a rich dad took his son on a trip. He wanted to show him how poor someone could be. They spent time on the farm of a poor family. On the way home, Dad asked: How did you see how poor they are? What did you learn?

Son said: We have one dog, they have four. We have a pool, they have rivers. We have lanterns at night, they have stars. We buy food, they grow theirs. We have fences and walls to protect, they have friends. We have encyclopedias, they have bibles.

Then the boy added: Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are. It is not about money that puts you to riches. It is about simplicity in having GOD in your life."

I am grateful this year for the gift of people who had taught me how to delimit anxieties and worries through their wonderful wisdom. I had been brought to people who need more help than the nightly alcoholic habitues who precariously need affirmations of their dramatic selves (how little and small their priorities are, and how terribly off-balanced). If someone could not afford to be decent, then, at least, there is this desire to change the myopic and selfish mindset of bruised egos that had known only abandonment, abuse, mistress/wife-beating and control all their life.

A wonderful man I had encountered, the cornerstone of this blog for years, calmed my spirits when I confessed one time: people had been clipping me for a Grinch Christmas. I realized, it could be the most meaningful that I may spend in my entire lifetime. He itemized the priority places. He listed them as follows:

1.) Orphanage
2.) Do A Fun Thing

Simply put. He then outlined a dateline for it: one week for raising money, one week to spend it meaningfully, one week to pursue a writing of choice.

I never could understand why he could simplify even the most difficult tasks so easily: if you see structures that had been finished silently like some silent magician had built them, you see his hand as part of it. He never stresses himself out; he gives me good music; he comforts me in a totally different manner of protection that never knows abuse nor dominance.

It is irksome too that he manages to look good even after all these harrowing activities.

Faith in humanity takes a long leap to cling to. Daily, he teaches me things so different from his life of affluence.

He asks me for tips on how to implement things; what could be improved on. I do the rough drafts--they immaculately appear in beautiful things along the roads where I pass months after. I sometimes weep when I see them (slides can be emotional); I sometimes laugh (City of God graffiti) and I say thank you.

ODD HAILERS
By: Iris P. Concepcion

The Supreme Court's decision upholding the illegality of creating the Truth Commission is the first decision (perceived as a setback) that is hailed by a Congressman traditionally regarded as left of leaning. This made me ubiquitously suspect of the inherent release of this news motive immediately.

The President obviously was up-ended on this one as he was doing the groundbreaking ceremony of a Medical City facility and his Cabinet men were helping out typhoon victims recover from their lost properties and shattered lives.

A well-known and incisive writer told me that some quarters are building up the credibility of a pretender to the throne and discredit Aquino as he implements speedily the necessary reforms inside the government. They are afraid of the good publicity feedback it could get from the community, thus, weakening their leader of choice.

Watching the news is interpreting the news wisely. This is an administration that no longer gives in to cabalistic posturings and pressures of groups. It knows how to parry this time around.

Government people in the past had been helping much in weeding out the leeches inside the system: those who had sat pretty well on executive waterworks and electricity funds (diverted money). These likewise include funds coming in from foreign fundings that are aimed to help marginalized sectors but are instead used to useless wastage of travels abroad instead of genuine and true-blue implementation of projects. No, this ceased to be an issue of mere NBN-ZTE deal already. It is far larger than that. Visual communication and documentations are far better than rumor-mongering this time around.

There is likewise a legit news source that detailed out how these chaotic "kuligligs" ruin the city's traffic: they are just there to sow disorder, nothing more (the going rate I was told is P4,000 per tricycle unit). These people are being used to disrupt the good implementation of projects seen to benefit millions of pedestrians and the people in general.

I am sure the good men of the previous administration know exactly how to play against the old hats of defensive spinning this time around. Perceptive cognition of the true causes of this attempt to discredit Aquino comes from one group and I do hope these seemingly innocent powerplayers start policing their own junkyards of horribly kept perks and start writing the root cause as it is. If they want to be freed from the inquiries, they better start ploughing back these kept funds to where they truly belong: government coffers.

The Palace then issued a statement that persons transgressing the law attached to the previous administration can still be prosecuted in other venues. This is the right thing to do. The last publicized news conference of President Aquino was more telling and deeper than this surface scratch on what is really going on. This is a test of credibility and this includes the credibility of how media leaks sensitive news to the public too. Just research on how sites are slanted and you can see the huger picture.

One particular network site was quoting a politician over a football win that has nothing to do with anything except to land a second name on the news. I am wondering why this rush and frenzied capture for "governing" is adamant. They must be too eager to serve the people. It couldn't wait. If only they could translate this passion to actual work.

In less than four months, a lot of sound policy implementations headed their way into our public institutions due to Aquino's relentless pursuit of fixing the government house. This is bad news for groups who thrive on scandals, mistress-digging wars, spray-paintings and chaos for monetary bargainings least blackmail shall ensue.

Right now, people are more perceptive though. Trace the records of lawmakers who had the balls to question the processes from within, how they went about it and you shall get the clearer picture. Stay pertinently close to the services replete with national interest.

I was also told that less and less people are relying on broadsheets for news items. One columnist essayed this. I think we are at this juncture where underground bloggers and common citizens are challenging the methods of news being guarded by traditional gatekeepers. The credible items get linked. That is the thing going on right now.

And yes, this government I believe shall go after the REAL culprits this time around. And no, I do not think they could bring down Aquino on this one.

Ski boots and faulty misuse of unionized fundings:

Walk your talk this time around. Let us see how you fare in the productivity front.

In four months, what have YOU done? Show them to us.

SELLING THE PHILIPPINES
By: Iris P. Concepcion

I recently got a lot of brochures about film making in this country.

I had expressed my gratitude for a small coterie of ragtag megmen who had reality-based stories spanning the best places in the world: they had been shown in several select theaters. I had reviewed them opulently here, yesterday being the latest. Someone tried to cannibalize these materials but the weirder men of the universe saved the day eventually.

I do not know how to react to this notebook-like selling of the country. It has headings like "More About The Archipelago". The pictures on it are manned by just one network: I could not understand why places instead of creative people are highlighted though. Directors' Profiles with small clips of their amazing shots would be more apt (for collaborative work) perhaps, and so on and so forth.

Sample of the pitch:

"Philippines, the newly emerged Mecca for independent films......."

Another two:

"Filipino cinema is definitely one of the most exciting in Southeast Asia."

"Philippines is a good filmmaking destination...Filipinos have a strong edge in making films not only because of their proficiency in English, but also because they have stories to tell; stories with heart that will touch the international audience."

It extremely bothered me that people shall blow millions if not billions for sentences like this one while I struggle with my words for a penny. Either we do hire the best pitchmen in this side of the world or we are merely snobbish of better outputs.

Sad to say, the kids with me threw it out and told me things only I must know. I think they know better than myself.

I also think it is not a badge to berate people based on perceived longetivity in any industry. We just need to embrace those on the outside looking in and perhaps, outputs shall be well-executed. Steering our country into the map of well, excellence, is a bitch but we do need to find the hugest bitch to implement it and we need newness, not rehashed themes, to pursue this.

I am not picking on the sentences, they are properly formed.

But since this is a filmmaking pitch, luring all creative people to come here and invest in well, doing scripts and the like, requires more than this little crap of juicy output. We really do need some refurbishing and it does not start with false arrogance. It does not go anywhere except bruised egos and useless crying. Never be dissuaded by the kick: everyone's trying to help if you are not just too haughty about it.

Nah. Definitely not my better other's output. He has a more circusmpect manner of building his slogans. I am a recipient of his affectionate words: they are tacky at times but they never lack originality. Lately, he misconstrues drinking a morning staple as "pampalakas for future fights." It is hilarious and ridiculous but that is how you shoot ideas from down under.

Shall we settle then for this superiority, this world class selling of our nation, of putting our country on the line for more creative investments?

The director I wrote about underneath has a mouthful to explain about this whole set-up but despite the meagerness of technology, he puts out nuggets of film wildness quite competently. It is a troubling if not disturbing commentary on anything, from brassieres to civic work. I buy it because he used his art unsparingly as the primary medium.

I need words that would make my back head twirl in disbelief I suppose. In a nook where I eat my usual fare of the tummy, I saw this in a stall:

"Egg Delicious. More Vitamins! Packed With Zinc And Bhythfbnsnaska!" (not exactly this but you know how it is improved daily).

It is weird since it merely sells squid balls. But I definitely love the performing words wearing ballerinas and tutus in this exemplary manner of shelling your money. I mean, I'd buy not because of the squid but for the artisan who had thought of this terrible but beautiful tagline.

AN OPEN LETTER TO HAPPY LAND CREATOR

By: Iris P. Concepcion

I have seen lately how a lean organization with enough spunk to scatter, mind-wise, has revolutionized the way things are being run in this country.

I have read one politician terming it as "changing the mindset of how we are governed."

They are starting to rein in the film sector on this free-burst mold also. Fashion did it already and with a superior bang.

I just came from a brilliant movie megged by a classmate in college. It brought tears to my eyes in that, it was raw and dysfunctionally real, down to the actors he had employed. They might not have seen a make-up kit in their entire performing life.

It was the larger picture I was after at though.

I am a follower of his ouvre in various mediums of creations. I know he had churned out television documentaries and superior films that resembled more of his personal passions and convictions.

I was not expecting the filmmaker to turn up physically; his doppeldanger was buying tickets for travelogue films. He probably was not invited even to his own film screening.

I am glad, nonetheless, that the director showed up, robust and proud, to defend his film from being cauterized by a bunch of......well, bunches.

He is funny just like me. He said it could be the first time he is watching his own opus himself. I form an ESP with some of this country's creative men and women in this manner.

Perhaps, some sectors wanted to deconstruct him but the audience ended up weeping as an honest man's lens seeped through the fabric of social conscience without necessarily meaning to be too polite about it.

Yes: The World Cup Is One Big Soap Opera.

They failed to bastardize the film, firstly, because I am around (my own circuit of writers follow me like sprinkled moths). I am overtly proud this way.

Secondly, the exceptionality of reverse lens set-up we see masterfully in print is so cutting and rugged on screen that these pay-for-view critics walked out on their own set-up. To be arrogant, as the kindly father figure on the film said, you must win first.

I have seen tears fall as footballs were kicked by urchins. And bygad, am I proud when my fellow craftsman-director said the bitch word in a properly syllabled style.

This is a new style foray into the visual medium. It is better than reality show.

Words are spoken in real time and they are not dubbed. Well, these basketball fanatics of the underworld tried hacking it but they had miserably failed. The best romantic line was uttered by one of the most gorgeous faces I have seen on screen thus far without being too conscious about it.

"I am a good leader because I have a good partner who supports me."

It turned out to be the director's platform for howlers and he won it, hook, line and sinker. He let on a secret: two of his acting wards were being pirated by international schools but they had refused even with the monetary perks dangled before them.

It was a delight to watch the despondent faces of the once mighty, proud, mocking faces of the rich when they went out of the theater.

Bold lines from a feisty director who is not afraid to cry in articulating the best whopper lines thus far.

"We are gonna get 'em coconuts" is so Coppola and he was parrying them like he did in his film: fearless. And the audience cried in their very own set-up. Uptweaked, eyes rolled down on cheeks like dramatic confessions.

A lanky fellow in red asked him: "When are you going to publish this film?"

Director replied: "Published? Or when shall it have commercial screening? I am not going to have it screened commercially. I am showing this in schools as an advocacy project, for kids to develop passion for football even when they are too poor to watch live football plays."

I think I scored another one and walked out of the mall laughing at the array of the more famous artists donning shiny clothes, trying to get noticed. They look pretty and well-coiffed.

I kept the face of the lead male though: he looks very out of the box. So congenial.

Even Steven Spielberg would slap me for thinking this way.

Jim Libiran, thank you for your gift of heart-rending stories.

THE UPPER PORTION LOOKS A LITTLE BIT LIKE ME

By: Iris P. Concepcion

I mean, my head: with the nose, ears, mouth and eyes. I wish to have that whale boobs but I am afraid my brains shall get snubbed for the twin peaks' prominence.

This woman is also holding a bloodied knife (a huge, huge one) but I had to crop it in deference to corn kids who refuse to acknowledge that their mommy is an avenging monster. They probably thought she is made of dough that they can mash up in the rainbow of Swiss chocolates--someone they can play with but only in dainty dresses, waiting at the end of shiny slides.

This movie is called Machete Maidens, a supernova take on how to sell a B-film (my favorite genre medium at the moment----abnormality does pick fabulous finds). This is classified R, not for Restricted but for Ridiculous. The pamphlet likewise says: "Contains karate-kickin' midgets, paper maiche monsters and busty babes and blades."

I wonder if big film companies can break the molds of their hilarity levels and attempt to score a guffaw-packed pitch like this. I think it is entertaining and definitively intelligent: to be so funnily bad, you must have done something remarkably good in the past.

Since this writer had profiled much of her friends' attributes, I shall let you in a secret.

These children of the kernel (imagine the possibilities: Kernell University, Kernell's cereals, Kernell furniture: where chairs look like vitamin-filled ears) are quite apprehensive, fidgety and boisterous but in a good way.

They share a common thing: they all possess sly looks--they see their mom in a sideway mode as if she is the Leaning Tower Of Pisa. There is a show of respect but they are kind of terrified if she gets into a foul mood. I was afraid for one who donned a death-defying heel as she walked like an overweight pigeon despite her overtly skinny bod just to prove a point.

There is also that graduated smile that they could not help but break out in toothy grins. They belt out songs and it is better than your usual comedy flare. Their recent ditty is a Christmas song with the warped lyrics of Hark The Herald. Here:

"Glutathione to the sky."

Arrogant too, but with tact. They would not howl without any supporting, creative goods. They know their artist's code of excellence (I pushed them that way). Never mind the prattle, they would brave a phalanx of foulmouthed cretins and walk, alone, bearing their imprint of Irisian independence. It is funny watching them that way.

And yes, they cry an awful lot to which I often reprimand them by saying:

"Awww, shuddup, wipe those tears off."

This promises to be the baddest film, ever. I think the whole barrio of cornfolk would catch cold for this.

PROFILING FRIENDS OF THE CORN

By: Iris P. Concepcion

A new found friend of mine is a dirty, crazy bum who often plies my route to a noodle house. I had been trying to woo him into eating my "pancit" and bread in the past. He had always refused, preferring to give me a wink and a nonchalant stare fit for the chosen gods.

One smoky morning, as I blared my cellphone's radio that had continuously looped tormented songs of the jilted and second families, I found him in the same corner of that eating joint, Wong Kar Wai-an that food hub.

I extended my hand with a gorgeously baked pandesal wrapped inside it.

Then, a magical thing happened.

He accepted the food.

He left in haste after uttering a name I also am fond of.

I would have scored a point right there and then. I won this thing, hands up.

There are two pairs of eyes, them too odd pairs for the road thespians who had always been questioning the ways of the academe. Much of their chutzpah came from their ridiculously advanced knowledge than the old hats in the field. They wrote about Norman Mailer when their teachers were imparting to them about related literature of college research (title: How Backmasking Has Improved The Recording Industry).

These guys were having heated debates about yellow journalism and Descartes while singing Billy Idol (and looking like one) even before punk rock swarmed television.

Both of them were raised in expansive libraries (that is our bonding, not about surviving the cooking wars of sapin sapin). They are thorough readers (not copiers who follow Polish slogans and copy them for millions---crap production), building their worlds with print as their creative foundations. Raised from grit, they had survived by the gut of grit too.

Breaking them right now via limp words, i.e., hallow hollering is futile. You are dealing with highly proud and profound people who shall shove your faces inside dictionaries and you need to Google themes to parry them. They guard their passions with tankers and killer shorts and good lineage.

They enjoy the perks of the world but only for the sole purpose of deconstructing them in their chosen modes of artistry later on.

Yes, they are my friends likewise.

Looking for norms in human relationships does not require building up solid resumes, frequent flyer miles to watch foreign basketball games--innovative! stylish! exciting! nationalism!--nor splendid backgrounds in snow caps. It pays too when they pay their taxes for road widening.

All it takes is a little word engineering and a sense of accepting what is just, right, creative and innovativeness to open up the world into bigger and wider forums of productivity.

They have lured foreigners in entering the country through their mediums, hooking up with like-minded world shapers in the field of creative bursts.

They do not pick-up the telephone of numbers they do not know of and pretend, in husky voices:

"Hello, can you place an ad in my, uhhhhh, magazine?"