Why Mindanao might just skip the Earth Hour party

Sorry, Earth Hour freaks, but Mindanao may not make it tonight.
Turning off lights — even for an hour — may prove to be too much to ask, especially if you currently live in the Philippines’ second-largest island.
And it’s not because residents fail to appreciate the urgency of saving Mother Earth. Nor is it because residents dislike Earth Hour’s organizer — World Wildlife Fund (WWF) — and its partner companies, including the Manila Electric Co. (Meralco), the Philippines’ largest electricity distributor.

Never mind that the WWF supports clean coal technology — which traps toxic emissions from coal plants — a process that remains undeveloped, and that Meralco buys power from plants that use coal, the cheapest yet dirtiest fuel.

It’s just that for months on end, Mindanao residents have been doing Energy Secretary Angelo Reyes’ version of the Earth Hour — the island has been suffering from blackouts spanning anywhere from three to eleven hours every day.
And so, if the world sees Mindanao all lit-up like a Christmas tree from 8:30 to 9:30 in the evening of March 27, Saturday, let’s cut the island some slack.
Instead, we should blame God for the island’s widespread blackouts, just like what the energy secretary earlier recommended.
After all, playing the blame game is so much easier than actually providing long-term solutions.
Just like turning off a light switch.
Or blogging, for that matter.
But then again, I digress.
———————
Thanks to paleo.wordpress.com for the highly-relevant picture.

I’ll be keeping lights on for Earth Hour

Celebrities and personalities of all shapes, sizes, colors, and configurations will all celebrate Earth Day this year by turning off lights for an hour.
It will be no different from last year.
Starlets and slacktivists will all give themselves a collective blow job after turning off the lights for one hour.
Big fucking deal.
They will supposedly be joined by a cast of crazies from the rest of the world — the demented and the deluded, the self-centered, the self-indulgent, and the self-important (suddenly, a person comes to mind), the greedy rich, the stupid poor, and members of the bumbling, blathering middle-class.
Excuse me for being a sanctimonious little prick but switching off lights for an hour will do absolutely nothing for the earth.
It’s slacktivism, plain and simple, no better than clicking the join button for a group advocating everything (save for hard work and hell-raising) on Facebook.
If anyone can cut substantial emissions by turning off lights for an hour around the world, then I can find the cure for all cancers, AIDS, and the set of six winning numbers on the next lotto draw.
Resources spent on the Earth Hour campaign — the gasoline, diesel, and jet fuel consumed by organizers to help put it all together, the electricity spent for printing out posters, including tarps, which are not so biodegradeable — will more than likely just offset, if at all, the emissions saved by the forced one-hour brownout.
The best solution for reducing effects of climate change is always the hardest.
It includes, among others, cutting consumption of — yes, you’ve guessed it — everything.
Of course, it won’t be simple.
It involves refraining from buying your nth pair of shoes or getting that new SUV just to keep up with the neighbors. (For that matter, it involves drastically cutting use of private vehicles.)
It involves buying locally-made goods because imported ones — while cheaper — consume a lot more emissions because more energy was spent transporting these items to our shores.
Until all of us come to terms with what it really takes to save this planet, Earth Hour at least to me is nothing more than a yearly gimmick; an invented social event just to make everyone feel good.
So will I turn off the lights for Earth Hour this year?
Like hell I will.
I’m going to leave it on the whole night.
And if somebody asks why, I’ll say I’m doing it for the people of Mindanao who to this day suffer from 11-hour blackouts — everyday.
At least, I’ve called attention to their plight.
But that, of course, is another matter altogether.

Californication isn’t just Sex and The City for men

Straight and/or superficial men have something to new rave about. Again.
And its not the latest issue of FHM or Maxim.
Nor is it a stolen sex video of a starlet giving the waiter a generous tip.
It’s Californication, a television show that has given the words “boob tube” a more literal interpretation.
The series — featuring the life and times of novelist Hank Moody, played by David Duchovny — offers what appears to be campy soft porn on cable, a gratuitous T&A show that is just a few shots short of an X-rating.
Of course its not for everyone.
Not especially if your idea of entertainment involves a writer who dreams about receiving oral action from a nun, accidentally sleeping with a minor, or having his young daughter stumble upon a naked girlfriend in his bedroom.
All three incidentally take place during the pilot episode, introducing audiences the world over to Moody, who, from all appearances, is a lucky bastard.
He possesses everything any man from eighteen to eighty would presume to want — a lovely, loving wife (Natascha McElhone as Karen), a cute, quirky daughter (Madeleine Martin as Rebecca), and a successful, lucrative career in the arts.
And that’s just for starters, proving once more that television shows are a fantasy and that life is unfair.
But that’s another story.
The novelist, who drives a beat-up black Porsche, also happens to be charming and good-looking, making him popular among women, including those outside his status, age range, income, citizenship, and hell, even religion.
With just a wink and a smile — and sometimes a little less than that — every other hottie (or cougar, as the case may be) drops their panties faster than anyone can say vajayjay.
And that’s when the good parts, voyeuristically speaking, begin.
Moody, the babe magnet, hooks up with Jackie, a stripper and college student, played by Eva Amurri, who is unafraid to show off her upper body advantages.
Same goes for Madeleine Zima.
As Mia, Moody’s ex-wife’s stepdaughter, Zima refuses to be outdone, proving that she is as privileged as anyone else to offer her puppies up for public scrutiny.
In the meantime, Laura Niles, a generously-endowed model, refuses to hold anything back, displaying what may well be an unforgettable performance while in an unconventional three-way with Moody and his agent, Charlie Runkle, played by Evan Handler.
However tittilating, sex alone does not a good show make.


Laura Niles – CalifornicationThe funniest bloopers are right here

Although it deals with the complications of a man who appears to have everything, Californication also offers literary one-upmanship in generous amounts.
The wordplay and the witticisms come quick, fulfilling viewers’ literary expectations since the show, after all, is about a writer.

“At the end of the day, if you can do anything else telemarketing, pharmaceutical sales, or ditch-digging, major league umpire I would suggest you do that because being a writer blows: Its like having homework for the rest of your life,” Moody says, addressing a high school class of would-be writers.

Californication also gives a nod in the direction of Dorothy Parker, by way of recognizing the contributions of Kathleen Turner, who appears in the third season as Runkle’s boss, Sue Collini, who “always gets her wienie.”
After witnessing Runkle enduring Collini’s mocking yet funny tirade, Moody asks him: What fresh hell is this?
Besides being an original gem from writer Dorothy Parker, it is also the same line uttered by Turner more than two decades ago when she played Barbara Rose in War of the Roses.
Turner may have lost some of her looks, but as Collini, she is as spunky as ever, providing an exciting dimension to a show that has pushed the limits of television.
With quirky characters like Collini, partnered with an clever script, Californication is more than just Sex and the City for Men — it is entertainment, however risque, at its finest.
—————
From the Gratitude Dept. Some words of inspiration came from Karl Kaufman. Photo of Laura Niles astride David Duchovny from Seat42f.com, which says it was taken by Randy Tepper.

Fun at Microsoft’s bloggers’ night

Excuse this self-indulgence but I think Microsoft likes me.
Yes, Microsoft – the company accused of monopolistic practices, sued by the US and the EU, and considered by free software advocates as the “evil empire.”
But hey, I’m easy – I’ll take whatever I can get.
Except that I’m not so sure what the software company can offer me.
After all, I’m not a big Microsoft fan. Nor do I think I fall within its market demographic.
I avoid Word, I stay away from Outlook, and I dislike Internet Explorer. (I use Tex-Edit, Thunderbird, and Firefox).
But that’s at home.
At the office, Microsoft reigns supreme, providing software applications for virtually every task I undertake, save for snacking and sleeping.
This probably explains my indifference when Microsoft – through a public relations outfit – invited me for Bloggers’ Night last January 28 at its Makati offices.
The company wanted me to join its employees and other fellow bloggers for a night of – and I am not making this up – “Fun! Fun! Fun!”
Unfortunately, fun is the last thing I associate with Microsoft.
But all that changed when the company decided to spice up its event.
Attendance to Microsoft’s Bloggers’ Night was only available to the first 100 bloggers who could comply with two criteria: First, their blogs had to be at least one year old and contained a minimum of 20 entries, and second, that bloggers had to be eighteen years or older.
I was up to the challenge and could very well comply with both.
However, my interest was unnecessarily piqued.
What were the restrictions for?
Was the company about to launch the equivalent of software expos in Las Vegas that featured adult film actresses? Did guest bloggers include personalities such as Mocha Uson and pioneers of Philippine adult entertainment such as Boy Bastos?
Close but no cigar.
The first rule was to ensure that only serious bloggers would be able to go while the second was imposed to prevent minors from attending. The company was serving alcohol during the event, reportedly the first time it was doing so in the Philippines, an executive told me.
This announcement alone convinced me that Microsoft was reaching out to computer users such as myself.
And it was doing so through the cheapest and most effective means possible – free beer.
On the appointed day, bloggers of all colors, shapes, and sizes assembled at Microsoft’s offices, eager to meet fellow netizens.
While I shared their enthusiasm, I was more interested in locking lips with a cold bottle of light beer, the brand of which will not be mentioned to avoid giving free advertising to San Mig Light.
An hour or two into the event, everyone was pretty much enjoying each other’s company, an experience enhanced by eating free food and drinking free beer.
By eight o’ clock or so in the evening, it was payback time.
Since Microsoft Philippines at that time already had a captive audience – members of whom were in various stages of intoxication – company representatives seized the opportunity to demonstrate various enhancements found in the beta versions of the Microsoft Office Suite 2010.
While nursing a beer during the demo, I learned that Microsoft’s new version of PowerPoint allowed videos to be embedded, trimmed, and edited, all inside the application.
Using this new feature, regular, run-of-the-mill, garden-variety office drones can spruce up their presentations by using videos from YouTube.
Moreover, Microsoft’s latest version of Word and Excel apps also permitted simultaneous online editing through a browser – a feature demonstrated live between two laptops manipulating the same file.
Under another application, multiple photos of the same subject taken from different angles can be “stitched” together to come up with one panoramic shot.
Overall, I must admit I was impressed with Microsoft’s latest iteration of its Office Suite.
I’ll seriously think about migrating to Microsoft apps anytime I get the chance. Yes, including – gasp! – Internet Explorer.
In the meantime, how about another round, Bill Gates?
——-
Picture from the Facebook account of MSFriends Philippines.

The Maria Clara Lite

Desperation — not necessity — is the mother of invention.
After all, it was desperation which forced me to look for a quick, cheap fix one night when I discovered that the sangria I bought — Maria Clara sangria produced by Destileria Limtuaco — was far too sweet for my taste.
The company’s sangria used too much sugar, making it taste like the sweetener used in taho, a local snack food made from tofu.
But then again, I can’t blame the company.
Majority of Filipinos like to have their food and drink sweet, explaining why local companies produce ham, wine, spaghetti sauces, and indeed — sangria — to suit market preferences.
Let me just say that I have nothing against Destileria Limtuaco and their products.
Fact is, I love their calendars, pictures of which can be found at the company’s website. However, the calendars are not large enough to be used for desktop wallpapers, an oversight that the company should rectify (that is, if it wants increased website visits).
Anyway, a few days before Christmas, I bought two bottles of Maria Clara sangria, which were priced lower than various imported brands.
Although I had tried, liked, and bought a foreign-made sangria before, I was prompted to buy locally when I was reminded that yes, a Philippine liquor company also made and sold sangria.
Besides helping the environment — foreign-made goods, however cheaper, incur more emissions since these need to be transported to our shores — buying Filipino also boosts the Philippine economy since local demand will encourage domestic firms to invest more in their operations.
More investments for local operations creates new jobs. New jobs increase demand for goods, which in turn, will lead to a virtuous cycle since companies will invest more for local operations.
But I digress (and too much at that).
When I finally took a sip of Maria Clara sangria, I realized that I wasn’t only endangering my liver, I was also increasing my risk for diabetes.
So I thought about a compromise, which in some way involved the manner by which I would kick the bucket (I went for liver cancer).
While seeking inspiration, I headed for the apartment’s micro-bar, which, at that time, was running low on supplies.
JMB — that’s Jack’s Micro-Bar to you, my friend — consisted of nothing but bottles of tonic water, a cocktail shaker, a shot glass, and a dozen or so lowball, champagne flute, and wine glasses.
I was then seized by inspiration.
And so, I now bring to you instructions for making what I call the Maria Clara Lite, a drink which I won’t call my own because someone else may have thought of this one beforehand.

1) Put two shots of Maria Clara sangria into cocktail shaker filled with ice.
2) Pour one shot of tonic water.
3) Shake vigorously.
4) Enjoy.

Pay much heed to instruction number four because this formulation can also work as a refreshing midday drink. Cheers!

———————
From the Due Recognition is Given to department. Gratuitous White Castle billboard ad picture featuring RR Enriquez from media.photobucket.com. White Castle whisky is produced by Destileria Limtuaco, the same company that makes Maria Clara Sangria. The pic is arguably a long shot from the blog entry topic but it remains better than a photo of a Maria Clara Sangria label.

Still Crazy After All These Years

(Also known as the cursory Christmas entry bloggers are wont to indulge in especially during the holidays)

And I mean that in a good way.
Not in the melancholy, maudlin sense expressed by Paul Simon when he wrote a song of the same title in an album which, by the way, is part of my CD collection (something that is becoming increasingly anachronistic).
In any case, as I said, I am still pixilated — yes, it means crazy — because I remain optimistic.
I remain grateful for my friends who have, in one way or the other, expressed support when I ran out of fuel, literally and figuratively, at various periods this year.
My gratitude goes to Barry G. and Art F. and others including Bernie L., Arvie V., Teddy R., Mads B., and Bing C. — individuals who may be uncomfortable about being mentioned in a website such as this one.
Thanks for the Christmas Eve invites, Barry and Art, but I just had to turn them down. I did seriously consider Barry’s offer to shack up with him, Maya, and Aemon at a fancy hotel in Ortigas. Reminded me of that time in Washington, DC five years ago at the Marriott Wardman Park.
Bing, thanks for sharing beers with me in Dumaguete in April. Let’s do that again.
Arnold Tenorio and Dennis Estopace also provided some humor and companionship even though I always shelled out more cash whenever the three of us went out for a drink. It’ll be your turn next time, I promise. Arnold and Dennis, thanks for staying sane, decent, and independent. Keep up the good work, or whatever it is you pretend to do.
Faye Ilogon deserves special mention for helping me out with logistics, broadly defined, and for always trying to cheer me up.
Paolo Manalo for the free books he willingly gave away and dropped off at a preset location — all at no cost to the recipient — before he went abroad to pursue studies further.
GMANews.TV colleagues and co-workers also deserve special mention for making my day every single working day, and here they are, in no particular order of importance — Raffy and Fidel J., Jon P., Karl K., AR S., Kim T., Aie S., Sophie D., Joseph U., Mark M., Jam S., Dreo C., Olmin L., Loloi G., and Jayme G.
Former colleagues also made their respective dents in my life such as Alex M., Abe C., Romy T., and Joe T.
Alan and Raissa Robles for lunch and more.
Thank you all and Happy Holidays.
Bottles of beer were opened, relished, and consumed in your individual honors.
Thank you Rapidshare for just being there, always tempting me to shell out cash for a premium account. But the thought of bills alone gives me pause.
Thank you, Julio Cortazar for writing Blow Up and Other Stories. I’m beginning to appreciate metafiction once again, fourteen years after I read this the first time around.
Thank you, twelve-inch PowerBook G4 for being my workhorse, continuing to function despite a case of kernel panic two years ago and a faulty C key that pops out occasionally.
Thank you, AlphaSmart Dana for allowing me to keep at it, enabling me to type in the unlikeliest of places (i.e., a congested waiting area of a bank in Quezon City) during the most unearthly hours (i.e., an hour and a half after Christmas, when everyone’s inebriated and I am — miraculously — drier than a martini.)
———————
From That Old Black Magic Department. As indicated, this whole document was produced and processed using technology that is roughly five years old. This document — typed on an AlphaSmart Dana — was then beamed via infrared to a Treo 650 from which the same file was transferred via Bluetooth to the PowerBook G4. Mrs. Santa Claus pic courtesy of ebaumsworld.com.

Makati madness

Compared to other urban areas within greater Metro Manila, Makati City – or at least its central business district – is clean, organized, and well-planned, making it the Philippines’ Little Singapore, without the ubiquitous cameras, the staid Singaporeans, and Lee Kuan Yew.
Despite the vigorous enthusiasm by which traffic laws are enforced in the country’s financial capital – a characteristic shared by the Asian city-state – many people still prefer to congregate in Makati City, with the hopelessly mistaken notion that working, shopping, dining, hanging out, and even living in the area is sophisticated.
It’s not: it’s just plain expensive.
The outrageous amount of what it costs you to do anything in Makati – use the pay toilet facilities, for instance, to expel the solid and liquid remains of that third cup of latté – is the price of the illusion that allows you to give off an air of wealth and sophistication.
Fortunately, this kind of air doesn’t contribute to global warming.
If it did, politically-correct, holier-than-thou, backyard-composting environmental activists would be all over Greenbelt calling for its closure while stinking up the whole place since organic deodorant is not available at their local cooperative.
Unfortunately, thanks to this self-sustaining Makati illusion, the city has attracted tourists of all stripes and sizes, tastes and inclinations.
In the process, it has also accommodated loud and tacky Filipinos, a category which cuts across economic classes and can be found in other countries, aping the locals and irritating the hell out of other people.
Products of stupid parents and the absence of a law legalizing abortion, these flashy individuals can also be found trolling Makati’s malls, exuding various degrees of pretension and self-importance, fiddling their expensive cellphones with thunderous ringing tones that can wake up the dead.
This, among others, explains why I avoid going to Makati City as much as possible.
But then again, it’s not as if that I have any choice in the matter.
Just like everyone else who needs to make a living – or at least until something better comes along – I put in the usual eight-hour routine in Makati, risking encounters with the usual set of drones, flacks, suits, and sell-outs found in every other financial capital.
And as soon as my work is done, I head for the door immediately, eager to resume my life which lies outside the Philippines’ business district.

(This was written in August 2007, when I worked in Makati. I remain grateful I don’t do so now. Photo from Wikipedia, contributed, uploaded, and released to the public domain by Eternal Dragon. Thanks, friend. )