Strategy

I hate to admit it but I really am turning into a Facebook addict. Start pelting those stones. After the smug remarks and disimissive wave that I directed toward the site before joining, I am now in the unpleasant position of jamming those words right back into my mouth. It's not that I have the annoying habit of adding people I don't even know for the sake of adding anyone, or uploading the latest inane picture of me applying medication on a corn, but the games. More specifically, the MY HEROES ABILITY game.

Like most of its ilk (Mafia Wars, Vampire Wars, etc), you get to role-play a character with a specific ability that will help you advance into more sophisticated levels enabling you to do more against enemies and upgrade your basic ability. Not that impressive at first glance, but I guarantee once you started doing it you can't stop. The closest approximation I can give is that it is similar to other RPGs like D&D and the Magic.. series. 

Similar, but not as sophisticated. For instance, Telepathy-my ability-doesn't offer much as far as offensive/direct attacks are concerned, but is very useful in dealing devastating handicaps (reduced accuracy/protection/damage capability) against targets fighting against others. So in a group, which is one of the features of the game, a telepath is not something to be dismissed. I like it just fine, though. It can hold its own against opponents with great physical offensive capabilites (i.e. superhuman strength/speed, flight) matter manipulators (i.e. electricity manipulation, cryokinesis, pyrokinesis) and other enhanced mental powers (telekinesis, memory manipulation).

You get to compete with friends with different powers and compare abilities, hamper their game by applying handicaps when they least expect it, help each other, or engage in a deathmatch with each other once you hit the right levels. It's the closest you'll ever get to playing a superhero as an adult.

So please don't ignore the invites I sent.

Tira

A little hilarious piece from my sister. Funny, brutal and true. You would not want to be the reason for her irritation. Plus, I'm too lazy to write anything of my own just yet so I'll resort to this shameless attempt at adding anything this blog for the sake of having an entry. Apologies to non-Hiligaynon speakers.

link:

"http://vanhalenfan.wordpress.com/2009/03/13/pande-what-oh-monium/

Before/After

Trent Reznor never fails to fascinate me. The two videos below prove the theory of evolution better than any egghead's biological lab rat.

Option 30


Nine Inch Nails

Happy Anti-Valentine's Day

There's something oddly comforting about The Cure's brooding and introspective masterpiece Disintegration (1989). Even though the entire album is a guided meditation that veers to a gradual descent toward loss, broken dreams/promises, declarations of unrequited love, and a bleak and distant yearning for happier times that could have been, the overall impact to the listener is anything but feelings of gloom. You do get a little misty-eyed from time to time but it's akin to watching a movie that deals with the same heart-wrenching subject matter than actually reliving what is being sung; leader and main songwriter Robert Smith is a good storyteller, after all.

Among its two counterparts, Pornography (1982) and Bloodflowers (2000), Disintegration is the middle act of an epic trilogy devoid of any upbeat melodies meant for top-40 radio. These are the kind of albums that are in heavy rotation as soundtracks to every suicide (along with Joy Division's Closer). Some concert reviewers even joked about giving complimentary ropes at every Cure concert in the past. Characterized by a grandiose wall of sounds created by synths, keyboards, chiming guitars and drum work that sounds like gunshots, and set to Smith's sharp wordplay and acute sense of crafting vivid imagery makes Disintegration, in my opinion, the definitive Cure album.

I have been searching for this album for so long. I scoured every known music peddler from the corporate-owned variety to the smallest flea pits where only hardcore collectors and audiophiles dare to tread (I did find other notable albums like The Stone Roses and NIN's Pretty Hate Machine during this quest), but only managed to acquire their singles collection Staring At The Sea. Even Quiapo - the ever reliable haven for hard-to-find music, movies and reading materials - didn't have it. While I am aware of the internet and wonders it can do to acquire digital files, when it comes to music I am old-fashioned. The album, the sleeves, the entire package and yes, even the search, is everything. I believe those are parts of the complete album listening experience. But sometimes you just have to listen to something so bad, you are compelled to bend some of your established rules to satisfy your curiousity.

As expected, the music was excellent. All the songs are epic in scope, each masterfully crafted by the band and clocking in at no less than five minutes. "Plainsong" opens with the most apt lyric that sets the tone for the entire album: "I think it's dark and it looks like rain...". Smith sings in a resigned manner that even the biggest yearnings actually feel the end of the world even if it were answered. But the genius of tunesmiths like Robert Smith is that they are able to channel all these moping and self-pity into pop masterpieces full of hook that helps in digesting an other wise heavy concept album all the more easier to the casual listener. This is definitely the album to play this Valentines. Full of anthemic shout outs tailor-made for the soundtrack of your own miserable existence.

Do not patronize CD-R King-Megamall

Ia and I went to Megamall Last Sunday (1-Feb-09) afternoon to buy supplies for the house and I decided to drop by CD-R king to get DVD cases for my pirated movie collection, as well as to score some rewritable CDs for burning. It's common knowledge that the store is usually overflowing with people but I was willing to brave through the crowd to get what I came for. Andun na rin lang, lubusin na.

I took a priority number (64) and waited patiently for my turn. I was there in front of the main counter where at least three female attendants who were probably in their mid-20s were busy attending to other people. By the time number 63 called I doubled my effort spot "64" among the escalating noise of the crowd and was surprised when I saw number 65 being passed from the counter to my left towards an attendant a the far right of the counter in front. You do not need to be a rocket scientist to deduce that you have been bypassed. But I swear I was paying attention and did not hear my number called out. My fears were realized when the attendant who received 65 called for number 66. I called her attention and told her I was bypassed but instead of acknowledging my pleas for assistance she waved her hand dismissively, and contorting her face that read "GET LOST", so I asked for the woman in front of me to assist, but I got another poker-faced reaction.

By this time I was already in a confrontational mode and decided to ask if they indeed called out 64 but the attendant with the contorted features decided to take rudeness to another level by making snide remarks that it was my fault for not paying attention, that kanina pa daw sila nagtatawag, ala naman daw lumalapit, etc. I was right in front of the counter and the woman who handed out 65 to the other was in close proximity to my left side the whole time I was waiting but I swear I haven't heard anything. In situations like these where you feel you didn’t do anything wrong, controlling your temper becomes a task of herculean proportions but I surprised myself by not going into full blown shouting match. What I did was I asked my wife to leave the store and as we were going out, I could still hear the side comments from several attendants that appeared to be provoking me into a full-on "eskandalo" deathmatch but I just grinned and contemplated on how to get back at these people with minimal effort but with maximum results. Engaging them into a full-blown word war was out of the question, as these shops clearly do not have a manager or supervisor to monitor their staffs' behavior. And even if they had (CD-R King that is), I'd bet my life that it would also be another idiot who'd most likely take the side of his staff and who probably inspired them to be total assholes in the first place. Had I taken the bait, the entire shop would've swallowed me.

Okay let's assume that it was really my fault for not hearing or paying attention. Would it hurt these staff members to decline with even an iota of courtesy? I'm not a person who enjoys conflict, so had the attendant told me to just get another number and said sorry I would have obliged with no complaints. But arrogance, especially one that is motivated by ignorance and stupidity is dangerous. Ang siste, e utang na loob mo pa bilang customer ang pagtangkilik sa shop nila't paglingkuran nila. I was tempted to relegate these SOBs in the clichéd asal palengkera denomination but that would be an insult to real palengkeras everywhere.

Those side comments really bothered me so we marched towards the administration office to file a written complaint against the entire shop. I was surprised when the guard on duty told me it was the first time someone actually filed a written complaint in Megamall. And I thought it is exactly why those attendants had the temerity to do what they just did. They were probably so confident in their capabilities in ganging up against a person during heated arguments that they forgot technicality wins over the best arguments, or the loudest voice, anytime. After writing my statement I was accompanied by two guards and their chief to identify the star attractions.

Their reaction when they saw me march toward the store with the guards was priceless. In fact it made the entire ordeal worth it. A little public service tip: if this kind of thing happens to you, especially in a big mall like SM (these corporations do have customer care standards), go straight to the admin office and file a complaint and have the admin officers escort you to the offending parties and indentify them. In a shouting match, you compete against someone to hog the spotlight. Having admin officials with you gives you unlimited verbal abusing powers (and you don't have to shout to get your point across because everyone's quiet and staring at their own feet) and the ultimate 'sorry po sir' that was missing in your first encounter.

It was like what Kevin Spacey's serial killer in SE7EN said: "Asking people to listen, you just can't tap them in the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer. And then you'll notice you have their undivided attention..."

We went to church afterwards.

Milestones

I've been meaning to write about the recent vacation in Iloilo. But first I want to congratulate my friends Mr. and Mrs. Andre Gacutan in their recent wedding last December 29.

Gago ka part! Congrats!

Congratulations, Van. May you have the patience to put up with the brilliant, and crazy man-child's antics=)

'Komiks'

I am a product of komiks. Truckloads of it from every known publication around the world, but i never grew up to become one of those die hard collectors who treat comics like fine pieces of China, skimming through it one time probably using a pair of tweezers and seal it back with its protective plastic covers to be preserved in mint condition and wait several years for its market value to appreciate. I love comic books too, just not that way. My comic collection are a bunch of tattered material whose pages have long been separated from the staple wires that bind the books from too much reading, lending, and rereading. It would have been nice to see them preserved like it was just bought today but i believe that's how reading materials eventually succumb to.

As far back as I remember the earliest books I had any recollection of actually reading and comprehending were the pocket komiks made by Atlas Publishing during the early 80s, long before any form of digital and cyberspace entertainment were the norm (a nostalgic sentiment also echoed by Sandwich via the brilliant single 'betamax'.). All thanks to a father who majored in fine arts and idolized the great comic illustrators like rock gods (see Gerry Alanguilan's komikero.com for an in-depth look). and when I say great illustrators, ladies and gents, I am not merely referring to those confined within the walls of the two comic publishing giants like DC and Marvel Comics but of the entire genre, including those in Central Europe and artists residing in Bulacan.

As early as kindergarten I already had comics titles like Spiderman, The Incredible Hulk, Fantastic Four, Swamp Thing, Superman, Batman, The Shadow, and even Mr. Miracle. Of course I relied on my father to read those to me as a sort of bedtime storybook to put me to sleep, as I don't know how to read and even comprehend english. I remember most of them were the National Bookstore reprints with advertisements at the back cover of new text books for sale at their every branch. They were good though, and affordable compared to the originals and I especially enjoyed looking at the pictures/drawings. But the ones that really got me were the pinoy Action and Ninja pocket komiks made by Atlas Publishing. If there's one thing I greatly regret, is the fact that I lost both copies of the maiden issues from these titles.

One thing I'm proud of is that even if I'm still watching cartoons like the Smurfs and Voltron I was already reading complex subject matters designed for more mature readers and actually comprehending them. I suspect watching Lito Lapid and Dante Varona movie fillers during early afternoons helped a lot as most of the plotlines in these komiks were similar to those hyper-campy but enjoyable "bakbakan" films of yore. It was relatively easy to learn reading the tagalog komiks because: 1) we're also tagalog speakers 2) there were pictures that go along with the dialogue--so basing on the actions within the frame it was easy for me to deduce what the characters were actually saying. During kinder 2 I was already reading lines written by Carlo Caparas, Vic Poblete and Rod Santiago--a few of the notable writers at the time. The komiks appeared weekly, if I remember correctly, and my father never failed to get the latest copies. He didn't admit it and said he merely looked a the illustrating styles (even ridiculing tecniques of some guest and mainstay artists), but I suspect he was following a series from both titles ("Valorra" in Action/"Kenja: The Last Ninja" in Ninja). I followed all the stories. I can even remember the titles: Wang Ho, Zato-Jari, Kenja..., Ninja Bonita, Markang Agila, Boy Paltik, Valorra, Lazer Man, Kapitan Aksyon, and Kamagong.

People tend to look down on most pinoy products and i'm sure these komiks are no exception. snobs may dismiss it as too parochial and lacking in style and innovation but I owe everything to these titles. Every book I enjoyed reading would not have been read had my interst in reading wasn't sparked by these "lowly" pinoy komiks I devoured during my youth. This is also the reason why I do not look down on those pinoy romance novels. While most of them are obviously not gonna win the Pulitzer anytime, there is no doubt that they also stimulate and exercise the imagination. This, if we are to believe Einstein, is more important than knowledge. And just the fact that many people are reading is a welcome thought, specially in this age where written communication is being overtaken by the text lingo-abomination of the 'wer na u? hir na me' variety and reading is fast becoming a relic of the past.

Good thing my father was a fanboy or I wouldn't have developed any interest in literature or any form of printed matter.