Jack The Scribbler

Among the many varieties of spectator sports — babe-watching, net-surfing, and working — nothing comes close to backseat driving.
Popular among spinster aunts, grandmothers, and mothers-in-law, this activity allows participants to sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery while whining about the airconditioning, the music, and of course, the car’s speed.
Unfortunately, to the detriment of cabdrivers and friends who occasionally agree to drive me around, backseat driving is just one of the few skills I am good at, besides the inclination to develop athlete’s foot.
This skill — such as it is — was cultivated through years of plain old bad luck, pessimism, and the inability to distinguish my head from well, my other less-savory body parts.
But this never got in the way of my drive to drive.
Before I developed any serious interest in starlets, I was already weaving in and out of traffic, beating jeepney and truck drivers at their own game.
Unfortunately, all this changed shortly after I, the self-proclaimed Mario Andretti of Metro Manila, turned 17.
It was at that age when I almost ran over a little old lady who was crossing a deserted intersection.
This convinced my father, who was seated beside me
at that time, that I was a road hazard.
Immediately, he revoked my driving privileges.
This incident also taught me something I would never forget: third party liability coverage.
And since then, I have been relegated to the backseat, making snide commentary regarding the subtle and complex undercurrents involving the operation of what may well be humankind’s favorite mode of transportation.
My interest in backseat driving was renewed about a few weeks ago when my supervisor grudgingly agreed to become my friend.
After work, my new-found friend has offered me and another co-worker a daily lift to Quezon City, where all three of us live.
Recognizing the potential savings and convenience that this arrangement would give us, my co-worker and I decided to give the offer a try.
After all, if the boss has every right to drive me crazy at work (which he does every single day, including Sundays and holidays), why shouldn’t he be entitled to drive me home as well?
Happily, this question has been rendered moot and academic.
The complimentary limousine service has become a neat, structured arrangement.
As soon as work is over, we move out of the parking lot and head off to Quezon City, during which time I lounge about in the back seat, listening to jazz music, and admiring the unique landscape that make Manila’s port area not a very good tourist destination.
While the passengers are only too happy to forego transportation expenses, the boss, for his part, enjoys the support, camaraderie, and good cheer of two of his hardworking subordinates.
This experience only goes to show that the best things in life are, indeed, free.
I really couldn’t ask for anything more.
Except that sometimes, I’m thinking that it wouldn’t hurt if we could cut down on the waiting time while at the parking lot.
But then again, that might be pushing my luck.
After all, I wouldn’t want the car to leave without me.

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From the And the Credit Goes To Dept. This piece was published in the Manila Times in August 2005. Picture, which has very little relevance to blog entry’s subject matter, is from www.allmustangs.com.

A considerable number of straight Filipino males would rather die than to find themselves inside a beauty salon.
Which is perfectly understandable.
After all, the beauty parlor was not tailor-made for straight men.
It was exclusively designed for and primarily caters to women who have the mistaken notion that looks were the only things men cared about.
This is patently untrue. Most men are preoccupied with bust size as well.
Really.
But that is another story best left untold lest we incur the ire of flat-chested feminazis, who are usually humorless.
Anyway, a beauty salon represents good grooming and cleanliness, values which are alien to regular guys since they are congenitally unkempt, lazy, and primitive.
Between taking a hot shower or a short nap, they would prefer the second, since sleeping requires very little effort.
All you have to do is either close your eyes or watch  TeleDyaryo, that snoozefest on the government-owned National Broadcasting Network.
However, despite the benefits of uninterrupted slumber, unkempt men are becoming an endangered species.
Reports indicate that an increasing number of Asian men, including Filipino males, are now spending more time and money to improve their looks because apparently, this is what their partners want. Fortunately, I do not belong to this category.
Since my looks are beyond repair, my sartorial and tonsorial concerns have always taken the back seat to the more important things in life (i. e., the struggle against various injustices including beer price increases).
Unfortunately, over the weekend, I was coerced by my lovely spouse into getting a haircut at a mid-end salon, instead of the cheap barbershop where I usually go to.
She said that since we were going to a wedding that same day, we might as well go to the salon and get myself a pricey trim while she had her hair done.
I relented, especially after I was told that I was not going to pay for it.
The minute I stepped inside the salon?s clean and climate-controlled confines, I felt emasculated, ashamed even, that I had considered getting a haircut in a fancy place like this at all.
I became immediately apprehensive, thinking that I was slowly becoming one of those so-called metrosexuals or latent coño kids coming out of the
closet, which were exactly the kind of people my friends and I hated.
This feeling went away shortly when I was ushered to the shampoo area where my hair was lathered and rinsed.
It was fantastic.
A cool water spray emanating from a handheld shower head ran through my hair and scalp, bringing forth emotions never before felt.
Or at least not since I went on an extended dinner date with my wife.
Later on, with a towel wrapped around my head, I was led to another area where a female attendant thoroughly wiped my hair dry and took pains to
ensure that the large bib secured on my neck did not raise the possibility of asphyxiation.
She then gave me the assurance that my barber would be with me as soon as he was done with a previous customer.
It took nearly half an hour before I had my hair cut.
To keep me preoccupied, I was offered iced tea, which I graciously accepted.
Thankfully, as it turned out, my haircut was well worth the wait.
Nevertheless, next time I need my hair trimmed, I?m still not going to a salon.
Unless of course someone offers to pay for it.

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From the Blast from the Past Dept. This piece was published in the Manila Times in November 2005, when my humor — such as it is — was still in ample supply. It was retrieved from my files after a close friend told me a few days ago that I should feed my blog regularly. Here you go, friend. Thanks for the faith and the support.

From the And the Credits Go To Dept. Pic is from sabahpower.blogspot.com which says it came from badcontrol.com.

Twitter is freaking amazing.
But don’t take my word for it.
After all, I’m just quoting @nicknich3, the Twitter username of a Cagayan de Oro-based electricity price analyst and founder of an Asian energy advisory group.
@nicknich3 was prompted to make the assertion after I expressed similar sentiments about Twitter, the microblogging platform that allows users to tweet, that is, to write and publish their thoughts online in just 140 characters.

Now why would I — a person who can’t shut his trap even if you paid him to do so — sing praises for an online app that offers a mode of communication shorter than a single text message?
Simple.
Its limitation is its advantage.
Twitter users are generally forced to express their ideas clearly and briefly when formulating tweets and/or communicating with their followers (which is to Twitter what friends are to Facebook).
Besides being amused by witty tweets from users with names of people dead and alive, real and imagined, Twitter users also gain a deeper understanding of subjects and issues — trivial, arcane, or both — with the help of their fellow Twitter addicts.
Take my exchange with @nicknich3.
It began with, of all things, an unscheduled, temporary, one-hour brownout a few weeks ago in the area where I live.
When the lights went out at about one in the morning, I sent a tweet using my cellphone to my Twitter account, a process explained by clicking here.
My tweet, which came out on Twitter’s public timeline, also mentioned the Twitter username of Meralco — @meralco — the Philippines’ largest electric company and the lone electricity distributor in Metro Manila. (I mistakenly tweeted NGPC, when it should be NGCP for National Grid Corp. of the Philippines that runs the country’s power grid.)

As a result, as soon as whoever handled @meralco checked its Twitter account, s/he would see that I mentioned the company and was awaiting a reply.
Early the next day, the company replied that a tripping occurred in my area.

When I realized that @meralco was eager and earnest in replying through tweets, I peppered it with more questions, some of which were inane.
I asked @meralco about its stock price forecast, a question I knew it was unwilling to answer.
I then asked whether costs of getting electricity from bunker fuel plants were lower or higher than getting them from coal plants.*
That was when @nicknich3 came in.
From the looks of it, @nicknich3 was a follower of Meralco’s Twitter account who saw that @meralco was talking to me on Twitter.
He then replied to me.

After that, things started becoming a bit more fun and frenzied.
Immediately after following each other on Twitter, @nicknich3 and I talked about the new pricing scheme — the performance-based rating (PBR) — that Meralco was allowed to implement.
The PBR formulation allows companies to charge higher rates — sometimes even at shorter periods — so that these firms will be able to recover their investments (i.e., in research and development and in capital equipment) that may already be in danger of being obsolete and worthless.
The PBR is useful especially in industries such as telecommunications where technologies change so quickly.
Unfortunately, these quick advancements do not occur regularly in electricity distribution, Meralco’s core business, @nicknich3 said.
Which is why he also told me — again via Twitter — that he remains confused about the Energy Regulatory Commission’s (ERC) decision that allowed Meralco to use PBR when charging customers.
Shortly after that, our Twitter exchange ended.
I was unable to formulate an intelligent question nor continue the discussion, being a pseudo-professional deadline beater.
But one thing’s for sure, next time I write about the power industry, I know whom to call and where to go.
Thanks, @nicknich3, Twitter, and yes, you too @meralco.
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*From the That’s A Fact, Jack Dept.
Consumers incurred higher power costs from March to April because of increased generation charges. Electricity used by Metro Manila is predominantly produced by power plants that burn coal, the cheapest yet dirtiest fuel. However, some coal plants were taken offline — these needed to be fixed for maintenance — and were therefore unable to produce electricity.
To make up for the shortfall, and to avoid brownouts, distributors such as Meralco bought power from plants that use bunker fuel to produce energy. Bunker fuel comes from oil, the price of which remains expensive. High costs of bunker fuel are then passed on to consumers, prompting them to pay more for electricity consumption. This was explained by me in a text message by Dean de la Paz, a consultant of the Joint Congressional Power Commission and a blogger for GMANews.TV, the website I work for.

From The Digital Credits Dept. Digital Art from www.twitterbacksnow.com.