Fuck you and your ideology

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So this is how it feels like to be Jesus

After the crushing validation of their affair I did what every guy would’ve done—I asked for the other party’s telephone number. I didn’t intend to engage myself in senseless confrontations but rather just give a gentle nudge with an elbow and say “Hey man, keep away from my girlfriend, she’s just confused.” But the situation took a serious turn; I was now shoved in a position where I would bear all the burden of her sins.

The blame was now on me. All of a sudden accusations of me not treating her right during our time together and being irresponsible in dealing with problems concerning the two of us were hitting me from all sides. It was so bad that it came to the point where I gave serious thought about it and ended up blaming myself too. It’s extremely draining on your self esteem—you ask yourself where you went wrong and what the problem with yourself is; you even reach the point when you’re desperate to just have her back and promise her that you will make amends with regards to your attitude if she gives you a second chance. Second chance; how fucked up is that? You have been blatantly betrayed by the person you gave your all to and here you are on your knees asking for a second chance. I mean, sure, we have been through rough patches as with most relationships but what I’d like to stress out is that nobody deserves to be cheated on. When you cheat on a person whom you claim you love, you’re backstabbing him/her. And backstabbing someone is the lowest blow one could possibly deliver to a human being because when you backstab someone, you deny him/her of the chance to defend himself/herself…

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What I would do to get Maike Evers

I
would slash my jugulars with a dull knife then proceed to collect the
viscous fluid spurting out of my ruptured vein in a coffee mug then
force random kids I find on the streets to take a sip, making them
believe it’s Kool Aid. I would maim them by viciously smashing their
skulls with my shoe if they show any hints of refusal.

I would sell my car and use the proceeds on purchasing random things such as door knobs, curtain rods and water heaters.

I would go to the hospital and ask the doctors to surgically extract
my liver. I would then invite my friends over to a barbecue where I
would serve them assorted charbroiled delights such as grilled liver
with carrots and corn; grilled liver with mashed potato or grilled
liver with chicken spleen.

I would have a double cheeseburger with fries and large soda please.

I would cut a deal with the devil that would involve the
relinquishment of my soul, my car and my NBA card collection in
exchange for Maike, a happy afterlife and ten crates of fertilizer. I
would then tell him that his shoes are untied and shove him down the
abyss.

I would quit my job and devote my life to helping women with breast
cancer. I would then realize that the words breast and cancer in one
phrase isn’t sexually arousing and I would be involved in a random
stabbing spree that would end up with me slaying 342 people and 17 cows.

I would promise to go to the gym.

I would run for presidency and win. And I would come up with a
decree that would ban ugliness, substitute math teachers, poverty and
fishball vendors. The people’s cakey beliefs and naiveté would cloud
their minds and prevent them from seeing my sterling reasons. They
would attempt to overthrow my government. They would loot. They would
pillage. They would rape. They would kill. They would vandalize. They
will disturb the peace but I would remain adamant and order the
immediate torture and eventual deaths of the people who oppose me.
People will shudder in fear by the mere mention of my name and they
would have no choice but to exult me and praise me for my brilliance. I
would flash a leery grin and marvel at my power. Then I would choke on
a small toy and die a slow, painful death.

I would chew off my fingers and pour acid on my face.

I would…Wait..didn’t I say the exact same shit for Kitchie Nadal before?

Idiocy in the idiotbox

Watching television nowadays has become a rather harrowing experience. Gone are the good old days when you just sit in front of the boob tube, flip through the channels and get entertained by the simple yet effective, fake guffaw-laced, slapstick type comedy offered by the great sitcoms of the past. Now, with the advent of MTV, teen emo-dramas and atrocious noon-time shows; the great institution that was television entertainment is sprawled over the floor dying.

In the not so distant future, in a land not too far away, television would be reduced to a capitalist mind control device which tells one what shampoo to use, what clothes to wear, what beer to drink or what car one should total by hitting an oak tree at 100 mph. The few of us who were lucky enough to experience true television entertainment before it defeated its own purpose would only be able relive it by telling teary eyed accounts to our kids. We would recant how it was when Big Bird strutted jovially on Sesame Street without being encumbered with the obligation of carrying a McDonald’s sign the size of a city bus on his back; or how Alyssa Milano looked so much better in a TV series called “Charmed” without that Taco Bell tattoo she now has on her face. But all of it would be for naught for the kids we’ll have in the future would be nothing but fascist robots controlled by the media. They would say “Fuck you, wrestling is sooooo NOT fake” and chase us around with chainsaws and eventually send us to media controlled concentration camps where we’d be brainwashed into believing that McDonald’s serves real food.

Commercialization has taken its toll on TV entertainment and has seemingly forgotten about it’s core purpose which, ironically, is to entertain. Most if not all the TV series airing today are based on lame, uninspired screenplay. More often than not, more value is allocated to aesthetics rather than talent which explains why most, if not all, TV actors and actresses we have today have about the same spontaneity as infomercials when it comes to their dialogue.

Actor: Your mother is dead and you can’t do anything about it!
Actress: (30 seconds later) Yes but you are a brute!
Actor: (2 minutes later) I love you! But I have to go to Paris to study. I would have an amnesia-inflicting car accident there, totally forget you and fall in love with an anorexic Japanese chick.
Actresss: (5 minutes later) You are such a brute! but if you order within 10 minutes, you’ll get not one! not two! but three! Yes! THREE fridge magnets! What a great offer!

This type of retarded scriptwriting is very rampant in Chinovelas. For those of you who don’t know, Chinovelas are the latest additions to the list of things we could produce locally yet we’re too lazy to. We also import rice, cars, basketball players, half-bred caucasian actresses as well as edible fungi from Norway. These are annoyingly stupid soap operas we import from China, Hong Kong, Korea or whatever God forlorn crevice of Asia they come from. Most people are unaware of the idiocy Chinovelas cause and the effect it has on the solar system as well as the traffic it causes due to people rushing home so as not to miss Lovers in Paris or whatever the fuck is showing on ABS-CBN around 6pm. For this very reason, I have decided to write a guide about Chinovelas.

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What ever happened to the 80’s?

A lot of people say
that the 80’s was the most enchanting
decade there is. And although I see it as a time of musical tumult
where glam rock queens and the likes of Johnny Rotten (Sex Pistols) and
Gene Simmons’ (KISS) grotesquely infamous tongue were at their
collective peaks kicking; there are still a lot of things I miss from
the 80’s apart from the tight-fitting leather pants and teased hair
that warranted people to brandish a sort of “Hey, look at me, I fucking
rock, I wear eyeliner and I’m pretty as a pony” attitude.  Back in
the 80’s, there were a lot of fads that caught fire, enjoyed a period
of prominence, and then were supplanted by more “hip” crazes.
 These are things that I genuinely enjoyed as a kid and looking
back, I can’t help but snicker
at the thought of me wearing neon socks with my mighty kids and
listening to Axl Rose screech like a speared warthog on my Sony
walkman.

I vividly remember the new year’s eve of 1989; while blankly staring
out the window, amid the fireworks and the pungent odor of gunpowder
that suffused the night air came the realization that 1989 was just
about over.  Sprawled on the bloodied floor like a gut -shot
animal, 1989 clings to the precious few hours of existence it has left
somehow unaware
of its imminent doom. Soon a new decade will dawn and people would look
back at the
sepia images of the 80’s and realize that it went by too fast.

 Let’s take a look at the fads from the 80’s we were all
crazy about; the things we wished would stay forever (or never come back) and
altogether ask “What ever happened to the 80’s?”

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