Skip to main content

तगालोग एडिटर वांटेड

Wanted: Tagalog editor

DAGDAG na kulubot at lubot sa Year of the Metal Rub It, o ikiskis kung ‘di kayang isiksik.

Katuwaan na lang ang subok na padala ng resumè sa nangangailangan raw ng patnugot para magkatam-kinis sa mga sulatin ng kanilang kawan ng tagasulat… sawa na kasi sa hanap ng papasukan—muwang, guwang, puwang, o luwang-- ipinaubaya na sa papasukan ang paghahanap sa ‘kin… nakangisi nang makahulugan ang Benny Antiporda at Roy Mabasa… parang ligawan: sa halip manligaw, magpaligaw, turn the tables on ‘em then smash those tables on their heads.

Pasintabi na Ka Jerry Yap… pero wala rin po akong balak na mapasama sa mga maghahasa sa mga mag-aaral ng peryodismo sa National Press Club… journalism isn’t taught, it’s fought in our strangled neck of the woods… and those wannabe journalism professors and toddling journalists might as well be sent to boot camp for a year to appreciate the basics of infantry engagement… the four F’s—find ‘em, FIX ‘em, finish ‘em, fu.. ‘em… which is what journalism has become hereabouts that has turned the Philippines into the world’s most dangerous place for knowledge workers.

‘Yung pasulatan yata na nagpatalastas sa Jobstreet.com naghahagilap daw ng editor sa mga sulating Tagalog… dalawa-sampera na po ang mga patnugot sa naturang wika, madali nang magsalpak ng kahit sinong sampay-bakod sa ganyang trabaho… marami ngang sumasablay na sa sahod, asahang dadagsa sa inyo ang bata-batalyong aplikante, lalo na ‘yung mga walang tahid at wala pang sungay…

Pero sa mga tulad kong may sungay—horny as hell, too—na Diablolo na ngayon, tiyak na susuwag at susuwag.

The trouble with grizzled veterans and also-rans is that their level of skills or incompetence can command higher pay…

And as the slaughter of writers in the infamous November 2009 Ampatuan Carnage points up, writing is tantamount to crime that doesn’t pay… uh, certain crimes like plunder and graft have been upheld by the Ombudsman as the sort of felony that pay handsomely after plea bargaining deals.


Nakakalungkot pa nga na sa isang bansang higit na sa may 95 milyon ang populasyon, wala pang limang milyon ang sama-samang bilang ng mga limbag na babasahin… kulang na cool ka na lang.

At kapag ganyan na kalaki ang populasyon na lulusong sa Taon ng Kuneho, baka ang peryodismo ay maging masinsinang tutok sa monthly period mismo ng kasiping… mas masarap na magsiping pero mahirap nang magsupling… make love, not babies.

Kaya ulitin natin ang isang payo sa mga naghahangad na pumalaot sa larangan ng pagsusulat ng mga ulat— there’s a lot more impact and a lot more rewarding to write ransom notes.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Every single cell of my body's happy

I got this one from Carmelite Sisters from whose school three of my kids were graduated from. They have this snatch of a song that packs a fusion metal and liebeslaud beat and whose lyrics go like this:

"Every single cell of my body is happy. Every single cell of my body is well. I thank you, Lord. I feel so good. Every single cell of my body is well."

Biology-sharp nerds would readily agree with me in this digression... Over their lifetimes, cells are assaulted by a host of biological insults and injuries. The cells go through such ordeals as infection, trauma, extremes of temperature, exposure to toxins in the environment, and damage from metabolic processes-- this last item is often self-inflicted and includes a merry motley medley of smoking a deck a day of Philip Morris menthols, drinking currant-flavored vodka or suds, overindulgence in red meat or the choicest fat-marbled cuts of poultry and such carcass.

When the damage gets to a certain point, cells self-destruct. T…

KASI NANLABAN

Viagra au naturel

IT LOOKED eerie—a blaze of fireflies pulsing like stars in the nippy air, throbbing with mating passions. That show of lights somehow eased the shadows of a Holy Thursday night on a dry river bed a few kilometers trudge up Mount Makiling.

It’s likely that no river has lain in sleep for months on that moss-grown, boulder-strewn bed—except my 20-year old kid Kukudyu and I. We were out to spend the night, do on-site learning sessions by the next day. Usual father-and-son bonding. As the late Benjamin Franklin once begged: "Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn."

Past noon from the foot of the mountain’s northern section, it took us four hours ploughing non-stop through prickly bushes and forest undergrowth to get to that site. We got there in one bruised piece. By then, dusk was falling; the sylvan air hummed with a trill of crickets, cicadas, critters nameless in choral orison. That incessant “sh-r-r-e-eemmm---“ layered with “k-kr-r-eeengg--” …