Thursday, November 29, 2007


There was a young man who was quite a dunce
and his father, seemingly none the wiser
sent him out to sell travel insurance
So when he returned, with no more than a sunburn
the hungry lad was given nothing but stale buns

The next day he was told to sell one of their cows
for his mother, Margaret-God bless her
had suddenly been stricken with gout
So when he returned, carrying only an old churn
Margaret, the old dear, could do nothing but shout

Friday, November 23, 2007

Everyone over ten

"In a moment, something rose up slowly in front of us. It was a Filipino. I yelled “Halt!” and made it pretty loud, for I was accustomed to challenging the officer of the guard in approved military style. I challenged him with another loud “halt!” Then he shouted “halto!” to me. Well, I thought the best thing to do was to shoot him."

William W. Grayson

The Philippine-American War was fought between 1899 to 1902, and was a result of our forefathers' refusal to accept U.S. occupation. The war was officially declared over in 1902 (by the Americans, unsurprisingly), but resistance continued until 1913. We didn't stand a chance, but still, we stood.

The photograph* above was taken by an American, most probably a US Army soldier or employee. It was captioned "Insurgent dead just as they fell in the trench near Santa Ana, February 5th. The trench was circular, and the picture shows but a small portion."


*Image taken from Wikipedia. Wikipedia lists the image's source as an unidentified American soldier or Army employee; and lists the image publication date as
02/05/1899. It is also available from the Archival Research Catalog of the (USA) National Archives and Records Administration under the ARC Identifier 524389. Image has been declared in the public domain in the United States.


March, 1993. A few of my friends and I sat in front of the TV and watched in amazement as five young men (roughly our age at the time) from the University of Michigan lit up the stands, the court, and their opponents. They were sophomores. They were loud. They were brash. They were in the championship game of the NCAA Tournament, playing against a well-oiled machine: the University of North Carolina Tar Heels. They were called the Fab Five. Chris Webber, Juwan Howard, Jalen Rose, Ray Jackson, and Jimmy King-all barely in their twenties- took the collegiate basketball world by storm. The baggy shorts-wearing, trash-talking, rim-shaking quintet won 56 games and reached the NCAA final in each of their two seasons together. Though they never did take the crown (Webber, Howard, and Rose went to the NBA in 1994), they changed the face and the pace of college ball. And for the next few years thereafter, when I was still able to play ball, I wore black socks exclusively.

Thursday, November 22, 2007


There was an old man who atoned for his sins
By selling home theater popcorn machines
And while he thought his penance seemed silly
The grumpy old man could not complain, really

For the crimes he committed, the punishment was light
So off he went to sell his wares, with nary a gripe
Through sleet and snow, high winds and rain
He cooked and he popped without complain

And if you must ask what his evil deed was
What act so detestable had brought upon him such a curse
You would be surprised, you really would be
At the circumstances and facts, and the sweet irony
For the dear old chap had done nothing more, you see
than steal corn from his neighbor and see a pirate movie.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Sure Shot 4

continued from Sure Shot 3

Just then he remembered that Joseph Meinkowitz, head of the agency's Research and Development department, had insisted that he bring a prototype of an experimental micro video camera the guys from R&D had been developing. "Good old Joe. I'll bet he's having a few beers with the folks from C.O. (Covert Ops) right this minute", he quietly thought to himself as he frantically searched his bag for the camera.


As he groped around near the bag's bottom, his finger went right through a hole the size of a quarter.

"Don't tell me I lost the da... Bingo."

He held the miniscule camera in his palm as he checked it for damage. He then held the camera's fiber cable up to his eyes to do the same. It looked good. He hooked up the monitor and powered everything up. His eyes lit up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is COTV Channel 13, signing on."

To be continued...

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Check, mate.

It took me a while to wrap my thick skull around it, but I eventually understood (well, at least at a high level) the concept of free online checking accounts. The whole thing seemed rather odd at first, especially when it came to the "free" part, but when I realized that the company offering the service was able to do so because it simply added its charges to whatever the payable amount was, things were made clear. I think it's a great idea-- the convenience it offers is, for me, the product's biggest selling point. I have some issues concerning security, to be honest, but the fact that you only ever release money per purchase seems a safe enough set up. Bottom line: it's free and I'll try it, even if for only the most minor of transacations.

Immagini - Bohol I

Bunot, Diego.

Some people from our company's bank-partner were at the office recently to promote their personal loan package. Interest rates were fantastic, and payment terms were great. Payments for your cash advance were also made via salary deduction, so, as we say, "hindi mo masyadong mararamdaman." I left the conference room with thoughts of that Speedlite EX 430 and a new camera bag in my head. All I had to do was convince da missuz-- perhaps a few shots in terrible light might do the trick, but she knows a fair bit about taking photographs now and will surely be onto me and my devious plan. Flowers and gifts will be too obvious; no point in even going that route. Begging and/or crying like a child in a toy store are the only viable options left, and I more than willing to beg and cry.

It's time everyone flies*

But some idiots deserve to just stay on the ground.

*Copyright Cebu Pacific Air

'Tis the season for giving

What was the last gift you gave your mother? Mine, unfortunately, was the most unimaginative gift a son could give: some decorative candles perched on a steel frame. Granted the frame had some flowers on it, it was still a gift that said "I'm sorry--I was in a bit of a hurry, but hey, it's the thought that counts, right?" a little too loudly. She was happy to get something from me, of course, but that's just how mothers are. Anyway, I'm now trying to save up enough dough to get her (and the wife) some gemstone jewelry when the holidays come around. Only problem now, me being me and all, is choosing pieces that they'll actually wear.

Monday, November 05, 2007


I had written a rather long entry to go with this photograph, but I felt it spoke better for and by itself. Here's Sandy, finally seeing where her Lolo Cesar "was sleeping."

Migraine-type Headache of the Head

What’s the weirdest headache treatment you’ve heard of? A friend once suggested I prop up my legs on wall and stand on my head; get more blood going ‘round the old noggin, he said. Another one served me up a mean cocktail of hot coffee and cold soda. An aunt said lying down in a dark, quiet room never failed to rid her of pesky headaches, and her husband, good ole’ Uncle Andy goes for 2 aspirins washed down with ice-cold lemon lime soda. What’s your poison?


I was talking to our real estate agent the other day and I found myself thinking, “I could never do what he does.” It’s a gift me thinks; selling, that is. And this guy was good at it. He was always on the prowl for a lead, and always, I mean always, closing. Heard that in a movie once, “Always be closing (deals)” the lead actor said to young protégés (the movie was either Wall Street or Boiler Room). Anyways, I don’t have that gift. I couldn’t sell water to some thirsty desert traveler—that’s how bad I’d be at selling. I also think that line of work is too cutthroat, too fast, and yes, grossly overrated. Good thing I’m good at pretending to know how to write.