MANGKOKOLUM!

M ALAYONG makagawiang gamitin ang binabagong sagisag sa piso. Php—parang “pahipo” ang katumbas kapag binuo, para bang napakailap na’t iglap na umiigkas, talilis palayo na parang nagulantang na bayawak, parang nagsusungit na’t ayaw magagap ni mahigpit na mahawak… ano bang pasintabi pa sa paghipo? Sunggab at masuyong lamutak agad… isagad. Mas humihimas sa puso ang nakagawiang sagisag: titik P na tinuhog sa gitna ng dalawang guhit… kahit na katunog ng pussy kapag binali-baligtad ang piso, higit na maginhawa’t umaantig-umuuntag-umuuntog o kikiliti—sige, ipagdiinan ang unang dalawang pantig sa “kikiliti”--sa pakiramdam ang tinuhog na titik P, lalo na’t masusulyapan, buong banayad at hinay na babasahin ang makahulugang isinasaad sa kumakalat na kamiseta, “malaki ang titikO.” Pero lupaypay na pahapay ang Php—sinakmal sa pangil ng inflation. Kung ihahambing sa timbang ng isasabong sa ruweda, kinaltasan pa ng 11.4 libra ang 100. Ano’ng panama ng Manny Pacquiao na titimbang muna bago sumagupa s...

W OOZY and a bit crazy from having a beer too many, I spat the question to Dennis Fetalino: “What’s a 75-year old man who has 10 kids doing on the roof? Flying a kite? Kids nowadays don’t know a rat’s ass about flying kites or frying pans or do they?” My beer buddy shook his head clearing cobwebs while I mumbled to myself a monologue scratched off ‘Fiddler on the Roof'… “Dear God, You made many, many poor people. I realize, of course, that it's no poor to be shame. But it's no great honor either! So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune…?” In these tropic parts, a 60-degree incline—a whistle-bait gradient in feminine waist tapering to sumptuous thighs-- to tin, tile, or thatch roof assemblage assures neat water run-off. So what’s a septuagenarian doing at the rooftops except acting out a metaphor from the Broadway musical? It’s an earnest try for a firm footing over precarious circumstances while scratching out a lively tune to flout the risks to life a...

I T took about two or three years before the three resident toads in our home garden turned from egg globs to full grown croakers. A pregnant toad mom must have strayed into our home yard one night, hopped into a rainwater-filled Vigan jar there to latch a jelly-like nursery sac replete with eggs on the jar’s rim. Delivery done, she had hopped on to parts unknown, never seeing how her eggs hatched into tadpole-youngsters to swim with several damselfly nymphs and daphnia teeming in that jar… That soft-shelled turtle found at a nearby creek, brought home, and dumped in that jar by my youngest child, that turtle must have gorged and grew fat on the hundreds of hatched tadpoles before crawling out scot-free…thank goodness. Out of less than a dozen tadpoles, three toughed it out hanging on to life. ‘Twas odd that their metamorphosis took 2-3 years. It only took weeks for toad eggs to turn up as fledgling princes-to-be… our resident toads must have taken their time enjoying the security of a...

THE late mathematician and author Isaac Asimov wrote sometime in the 1980s about the growing imbalance between matter and energy in this neck of the universe—so much energy is being turned up as human flesh, breed in abandon and feed upon resources which grow scant through the years. ‘Twas a mind-blowing mode of squaring off with growing population pressure upon the planet’s dwindling resources. A potshot at the quality of people teeming like maggots upon the land’s moribund carcass: fuck and shuck… wipe off the plate, fornicate… fornicate… wipe off the plate… Human activity has spawned global warming which, in turn, has whacked out global timetables in crop production to feed earth’s billions—hey, Thomas Malthus missed out on people fucking up the reality of our planet’s clime that, in turn, screwed up food production. Malthusian fears were limited to people cranking out more and more people until food supplies, renewable and non-renewable resources dwindle to a murderous minimum. So ...

S NAPPING snippets of life with a mobile phone’s built-in camera don’t suit me yet, at a loss I’m still at which buttons to press to grab a moment, transfix an image—pixel-pocked picture—and have it for keeps. The hand’s faster than the eye, uh, even for too many a thigh-- sense of touch, tactile turning to tactics can pack more filling. Much more fulfilling feeling than sight, why, luscious eyefuls can be had hands-on, or maybe trigger a hard-on taking delight in holding rather than beholding, most especially lush geography thrumming smack between thighs, hah, feel it… An entry in the web log mangkokolum.blogspot.com is a full-length drama I’ve adapted from a Japanese folk tale, “The Picture Wife.” My daughter asked me to write it as a Tagalog play for children for showing on a Valentine’s Day. And had it dubbed “ Larawang Kapilas-Puso .” Lewd landlord falls for the portrait of a lovely woman who happens to be the missus of a lowly peasant. Landlord grabs the peasant’s missus and aft...

I T was more than an implement—tough as metal, soft as petal—wielded like lightning to repulse conquerors. Invading Mactan in 1521, Ferdinand Magellan and his men must have thought that their fabled Toledo steel swords would be more than a match more the island’s native defenders—they were dead wrong. The Spaniards never knew what hit them. In the 1900s, American occupation forces in Mindanao particularly in the Sulu islands found themselves under constant harassment from what they called “crazy hermits” or juramentados . The native fighters would fast for days, go through special religious rites, then go forth to storm American garrisons. Even as the .445 caliber pistol was plied out in 1911 to stop seemingly unstoppable fighters, the Americans still never knew what hit them. Looking back with pride at such points in history when their fighting mettle was unleashed in battle, Filipino Muslims, especially the Tausugs of Sulu will, with a little nudge and tug at their patriotic sentimen...

T HE national leader embodies a 6th part of the nation’s people and their karma. Stumbled upon this arcane trivia some years back during an on-and-off rambling through Hindu Vedic lore, uh, vedas = truth and that’s supposedly something to deliver us from evil, now and in the hour of our debt or demise, whatever’s more comfy. Say as the sacred texts affirm, karma = being. So we can take that when a figurehead represents a sizeable fraction of the populace and their karma, that arcane tidbit refers to human beings. And not just the ordinary types, these particular blokes have the national leader’s traits, inclinations, mindset, quicksilver temper and tantrums, maybe idiosyncrasies and propensities, tell-tale facial mole, warts, and all. The leader’s after all the embodiment of these beings, human or otherwise. These beings make up a sixth part of the national head count of 86 million. That’s around 14.167 million. That’s a critical mass of numbers whose archetype, avatar, prime exemplar...

NEVER mind the truculent topography to trample not too thoroughly, the hike-hop-hobble to the Sierra Madre work site just took over three hours. It was past lunch time when we plopped ourselves down on a mat of grass for some easy breathing spell, allow famished stomachs to growl and gripe. Pay no heed to such grumblings. Legs can whine. Soles can whimper. Stretched taut sinew all over one’s body can fret and stew. Stew? Delicious jolt this chewy morsel of a word Ah, meals can be whipped up in a jiffy. A pot of water boils in less than five minutes on mountain tops-- well-boiled, fluffy steaming rice can be had in around 10 minutes. So we rummaged through the tools, provisions, and not-so weighty things we’ve tacked on our backs for the three-day working weekend. We rummaged some more. We set down on the grass every article of consequence we had brought. We looked at ‘em items with serious intent, eyeing each item in earnest. Mattock, kama scythes, bolo, knives, whetstone, pingga or b...

S AWIKAIN ng mga Tagalog ang ipinagpipilitan: kapatid ng bulaan ang kawatan. Baka naman kaugnay ito ng inilalapat sa pangalan ng mga kawatan. Este, kinatawan nga pala sa House of Thieves, oops, House of Representatives, Ito ‘yung tinatawag yatang tahanan ng mga diputado o sa wikang Español, Casa de los Hijo de Putados. Madalas ngang tanggalin ang huling pantig na –dos kasi sobra sa 200 silang nakalublob doon. Lalaspag ng mga P 200 milyon para magkasundong bumuo bawat isang batas na walang balak maipatupad kahit palit-pangalan lang ng kalye o espinita. They’re kindred spirits, not kind , though. Tinatawag kasi sila, Hon . Your honor pa nga ang pasakalye bago sila magtaltalan sa kapulungan. Malakas ang kutob naming ito na ang tinutukoy ng kasabihan naman sa Ingles: There is honor among thieves . Hindi naman kami nagtataka nang dumagsa nitong nakaraang linggo ang mga your honor upang sumagpang ng agahan o almusalsal sa Palasyo sa Pasig . Sumulpot na lang sa mga bali-b...

“D ON’T terrorize me again. Not these days when methane farts off Glorietta and Gloria.” Thus I farted off a few pesos worth of text messages like that after my son sent a P 20 load to my mobile phone. The load expires in 2 days—it takes me more than three weeks to fidget and fiddle a P 30 load off an idled mobile phone that takes after Samuel Butler. “To do great work a man must be very idle and very industrious.” Blame not this sucker for a quote on quietude: “Don’t speak unless you can improve the silence.” Besides, suction slurps louder than words. I don’t have to explain to folks I plied that two-sentence note to that methane buildup stems from corruption and rotten organic discards. If the gas buildup isn’t confined in a structure of sound integrity, lots of gas—and guise like lame excuses and news releases—are issued off. Such bouts of oral flatulence can be nauseous. The guys I sent that message to don’t have to be told in length that suspicions are rife ove...

S HOWBIZ scuttlebutt ejaculated that a sports icon has come across with a tidy sum to pay for the enlargement of his sexy star girlfriend’s elevator button of sorts—the so-called la bella loca or G spot. It was an earnest bid to make such luscious spot more accessible for both of ‘em during sex, or plunking down money where the lower mouth is. The non-surgery involves injection of a specially prepared collagen into the bean-sized Grafenberg spot just behind the pubic bone. It’s smack on the upper anterior wall two inches off the adit to the silken depths. The collagen filler swells the spot to the size of a peso coin. That’s for easier and greater area of penile traction. And that two-bit technical data has fueled tattlers’ wild speculations-- the sports icon’s nether tool may be coming short of over two-inch expectations. The 15-minute operation costs P50,000, a year’s average yield of profits off a hectare of palay . Chicken feed to folks that come with high incomes. A patient need ...

A N epidemic running amok in any of the country’s 19 regions will likely trigger a national calamity. The nation’s health system just can’t cope—we’ll just watch people die like flies. Why, there’s less than one physician attending to every thousand populace. Two nurses have to tend to 1,000— a nurse for every 500 people. There’s less than one midwife seeing to every 2,000 people. Meanwhile, an 8,564-strong nationwide army of dentists can hack out separate niche clientele from a population over 80 million. Here’s a calamity waiting to happen. More likely a doomsday scenario that has begun—a physician all by his lonesome self, wrenching his brains out to see to 1,000 disease-struck patients. A deadly contagion has yet to strike. Who can tell when such a pestilence breaks out? The vulnerability of the Filipino populace is palpable, as obscene as the splayed out legs of a whore on a payday night, open to all takers and every manner of assault. Such pitiable figures on the state of the nat...

THE lone red coral tree at the northeastern end of Manila Hotel barely waves its lanky arms at the noisome saraband of cars, vans, container vans and such flow of metal monsters any given day at Andres Bonifacio Drive in Manila’s south port area. Years back, there were other red coral trees lined up like a fenced in squad of sentries, sloughing foliage to squeeze out through myriad twig fingers a splendor of blood-dyed petals come April maybe around Lent. By 2005, that row of corals stood dead, bark stripped off their fat boles, trunks bleached pale—an infestation of African wasps had decimated every stand of red coral trees in Metro Manila and outlying areas. Except for that tough one at Manila Hotel to which I ply a salutation nearly every evening or thereabouts as I trudge off from a watering hole on 20th Street in port area for a bite of beef mami and a few more beers at Peter Lee’s Hong Kong Tea House on A. Mabini in Ermita. That survivor of the plague of wasps—those nasty stinge...

O F the 37 Senate seat-seekers for the 2007 mid-term elections, 11 are running healthy—that is, they have included public health among their legislative concerns. The rest can be labeled “unhealthy.” With P35,000 in monthly paycheck, about a million pesos a month to pay for support staff and some P200 million in pork barrel funds per year, a stint at the Senate ought to be an enriching experience for any hopeful bet lucky enough to win in this year’s senatorial race. Tempting, such largesse of pelf and power. Thus, 79 Senate hopefuls—several of them were jobless—showed up like symptoms of a disease at the Commission on Elections to be listed up as official candidates; 42 were dropped from the Comelec list, deemed as nuisance candidates. Taxpayers can now sift a dozen among 37 remnants—they come from a mixed bag of 13 political parties, each vowing to lessen maybe wipe out poverty, combat graft and corruption, and, as most pre-poll campaign sound bites go, even make your wishes come tr...

HAGAR the Horrible and Snert. Phantom and Devil. Tin-Tin the boy detective and Snowy. Pepe and Pilar and Bantay. A gadabout Saint Roque and his nameless cur that has left a trail of wondrous tales in the more bucolic parts of Nueva Ecija for healing the sick or wounded with a few licks or so. From storybooks to oral folklore, the bonds that link dog and man endure. And there was the late movie idol Fernando Poe, Sr. He was strong as an ox, statuesque with a physique made immortal in the bronze Oblation statue that stands as colossus in every campus of the University of the Philippines nationwide. A rabies-infected puppy of his licked his hand that had an open wound. Such a licking sent him to an early grave. Indeed, rabies kills. While more deaths may have been induced by attempts at howling out "My Way" in cheap videoke joints throughout the country, rabies-caused deaths hereabouts focused global attention on the Philippines. There was an increase in rabies fatalities in the...

THE child was just another dreamer who wanted to wring the nightmares that reeled off right in their home into something less repugnant. He would hear his mother sob, howl out in pain, break into some more sobbing as the husband had his way with her. Feeling afraid and helpless, the child would go back to sleep and pretend it was all a bad dream. That dreamer grew up haunted by bad dreams about his mother’s sexual torture. He turned into a brutal rapist perpetrating multiple assaults, recounts maverick criminologist Dr. Lonnie H. Athens who journeyed into the depths of criminal minds and found out what it takes for any person to turn into a monster. The same nightmares descend upon women throughout the world in their waking hours. The warmth of hell engulfs womankind in the comfort and safety of their homes. Or in more placid terms, women have to bear and rear children plus untold amounts of homespun brutality. Indeed, a man’s home is his castle—torture chambers are aplenty. "I su...

SANA’Y sumapin lang itong pagmumukha Sa tinapa’t dilis na para sa dukha… Natikman mo sana ang lansa’t mantika Nahimod sana ng mukha mong bilasa. Nangakasupalpal sa TV at radyo Ang maskara ninyo’t pati na anino Hinihimok kami na kayo’y iboto Sa ganyang gawain kami’y ginagago… Kung sa pahayagan kayo ay nagsaad Ng mga pangako’t iba pang boladas— Nakinabang sana sa mga pahayag Pati na ang puwit, mayroong pamunas. Anong gantimpala aming makakamit Kung sa radyo’t TV kayo humihirit? Kung pahina sana’y naging pamparikit Ng aming ilawan sa gabing pusikit. Bahala na kayong lapatan ng sumasagitsit na himig at sumusulak na ngitngit ang mga naunang taludtod. Pasintabi na sa mga kupal at kumag na nagtatapon daw ng may P 16 milyon sanlinggo para maiwisik ang katas ng kanilang kalatas sa 51 milyong rehistradong bobotante. Pagkain at pananamit ang nangunguna sa tatlong pangunahing pangangailangan ng tao— ni isa dito’y hindi tinutugunan o pinag-uukulan ...

APPREHENSIVE about certain louts winning the May 14 vote, eh? Sure they will win. As sure as that ransom note of sorts of yours that somebody from my high school e-group dumped in my e-mail. Those aren’t a terrorist’s demands. More of a terror-struck aghast at how things are shaping up in the country and woeful at the possibilities that will soon come to pass. That’ll prompt you to pack your bags and leave the country, maybe for good. Please do. Follow your heart. Never fear for these accursed islands with its accursed denizens. Most of us can bear whatever onus rapine providence or sagging confidence has to dump some more on our backs, why, we can hardly stand erect like manhood out to inflict another mouth to feed on dwindling income and scant resources. Any whit of wariness that crackpots would crack can hardly be appreciated by crackpots. Why, I would have voted for you had you taken the desperation to make a bid in the senatorial derby. You didn’t. You weren’t that desperate enoug...