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Showing posts from August, 2008

So beat it, just beat it

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Monroe St. Dearborn, MI "My spelling is Wobbly. It's good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places." -- A. A. Milne

Ninoy

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I was 13 and had just came back from a day of playing ball with some friends in the neighborhood basketball court when I saw my Lolo and Lola huddled with serious looks on their faces around the old Sanyo, listening intently to the commentator’s pronouncements and unmindful of everything around them. After the radio announcement, my Lolo could only mutter in his soft voice that, “Marcos is finished.” The assassination of Benigno S. Aquino, Jr. or Ninoy on August 21, 1983 further stirred my interest in Philippine politics. I decided to know him better and managed to learn more about him-- from the stories and anecdotes passed on by people who were old enough to remember him to the old issues of the Philippine Free Press and other magazines in our possessions at that time. My uncle who was in the United States would send us photocopies of the San Jose Mercury News and the New York Times as well as betamax tapes of news about the assassination from foreign networks that were not av

The Lord of Five Rings

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I am now officially a nocturnal animal. I’ve never been the early- to- bed type of guy though since I am usually up late at night. I mean really late when it comes to catching those precious winks. My normal bed time is actually between 1-2 early morns. But nowadays I am up until 8- 10 in the morning depending on what’s up on my menu. In another world, you can consider that as early, not late. For the record I have not ventured outside my hideaway in the daytime and have never felt the sun shine on my skin. For the past two weeks, I was in another world. My sun became the moon and the moon became my sun. And I am positive that it will remain this way in the next several days or so. I have evolved into a creature of darkness. I am a night owl. No, make that a vampire sans the blood thirst. In my case, my elixir is quite different from these abominable creatures. In my case, you can make that either an ice- cold lager or an equally ice- cold Coca- cola. And throw in some mixed nuts and

Spanish Eyes

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The picture above of Spain’s national basketball team competing in the 2008 Beijing Olympics doing their best “slit- eyed” gestures in a publicity photo for their sponsor is creating a ruckus in the sporting world. The said photo has been regularly running in Spanish newspapers since July and the nosy British newspaper aptly- named the Guardian got wind of it and broke it to the world press. It’s no big deal though for many Spaniards as can be gleaned from Spanish guard Jose Calderon's statements who just shrugged it off and muttered, “We did it because we thought it was going to be something nice…It is too much of a big deal with you guys and everybody talking about it. “ I am not surprised though since the Spaniards are known for that and history can prove that and we don’t need to look back a hundred years to do just that--- Back in 2004, Thierry Henry, a black Frenchman and one of the best soccer players in the world was the subject of racist slur by Luis Aragones, Spain’s mana

Fiesta

Tomorrow is the start of the three- day Fiesta celebration in my hometown Tiwi in Albay in honor of the town’s Patron Saint, the martyred Saint Lawrence and the Miraculous Our Lady of Salvation, the Patroness of the Diocese of Legaspi. It’s a celebration witnessed and participated upon by various pilgrims from places all over the Bicol region and beyond. Although I am not that religious anymore and a self- confessed non- practicing Catholic nowadays, I just cannot forget the customs and traditions that have been a part of my growing- up years. Yes, I still remember my religion class quite well, also being a “Sacristan” when I was a kid helped me a lot in knowing things beyond the four Evangelists. In fact, I still can recite Padre Huestro and Dios Te Salve Maria in a heartbeat. The Fiesta is usually highlighted by a colorful grand parade through the crowded streets of the town participated by various schools, organizations and local government units and culminating with the tradi

Hiroshima

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Drifters in the night Flowers under the moonshine Longing for the Sun... And here's my blog post written two years ago today-- For Whom the Bell Tolls

Go Home, Ivan

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Back in 1989 when many of friends were reading Mao, Lenin and Marx, I got hold of a book whose narrative were based mostly on eyewitness accounts as well as the writer’s own experiences as a political prisoner inside the Soviet GULag. GULag by the way is an acronym for "Chief Administration for Corrective Labor Camps" which is the name of the Soviet Union’s concentration camp’s governing board. The three- volume Arkhipelag GULag or The Gulag Archipelago is such a compelling read and quite an eye- opener especially at that time where all things Russian was either based on hear- say or propaganda. The book which was smuggled in parts out of the Iron Curtain and first published outside of the Soviet Union in 1973 was written by a Russian novelist and historian who was also the recipient of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1970. I have only read one other book by the said author which is One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich (although I have August 1914 in my book shelf) b