(This is part of my #30dayblogging challenge and I already skipped yesterday. Challenge unmet. Oh well.)
According to Newsweek, American and Philippine economists estimate that [former president Ferdinand] Marcos and pals shipped as much as $20 billion out of the country. We’re not talking about Michele Duvalier’s fur collection. Continue reading
“I’m skeptical, which I think every journalist should be. If you’re not skeptical, then you’re not going to go anywhere as a journalist. You’re there to contest things. If not, you might as well hire yourself out as a loudspeaker. You might as well join the propaganda arm of the government… Continue reading
From the introduction of the Great Reporters by David Randall, who is currently an assistant editor and a columnist at the Independent on Sunday, a UK broadsheet. Besides having worked as a journalist in four continents, Randall is also the author of The Universal Journalist, one of the best books about the practice of journalism I have ever read. (I’ve read it twice and come back to it from time to time, especially when the journalism itch needs to be scratched.) Continue reading
I do not think I am reasonable enough to avoid getting angry when a discourteous driver blows his horn at me for being one nanosecond late after a traffic light turns green. I am fully aware that such anger is self-destructive and offers no benefit, and that if I were to develop anger for every idiot around me doing something of the sort, I would be long dead. Continue reading
Jaime Oscar M. Salazar deserves to have increased following among Internet users.
For one thing, Salazar–whom I haven’t met yet–offers sensible opinions.
Months before the presidential elections in 2010, he wrote a lengthy piece scoring a GMANews.TV report–a website that I worked for, at that time–about Hacienda Luisita, the plantation owned by the family of then-senator Benigno C. Aquino III.
As my hands were cuffed behind my back, and I had a zet at the footwear of my arresting officers, I couldn’t help hailing Nietzsche’s dictum, what does not kill me makes me stronger. One could add that what doesn’t kill you can be extremely uncomfortable and can give you a very nasty cold. I sneezed with no hands and discharged some nose marrow across the short distance between my nostrils and the gleaming footwear of the detective in charge of the operation, where it spread-eagled and made itself at home.
The trouble with Nietzche—who in any case never prescribed instructions regarding conduct while being hand-cuffed on chilly floors in undignified circumstances—is that you can never be sure when he’s doing some levity or not.
The Metropolitan Police had the same problem with me. They were hugely unconvinced by my responses to their questioning.
— from The Thought Gang by Tibor Fischer, named by Granta Magazine as one of the best British novelists under 40 in 1994