reymundo salao
the guardian, iloilo city

OFTENTIMES DISTURBING
Write-ups from the column of Reymundo Salao
December 2003

NOT AGAIN
By Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing

If you want to construct a building, you get an engineer, not a panday. If you have a sick dying child, you get a doctor, not an albularyo. 

Do we really want another showbiz president? With the miserable situation of the country; the disunity among parties and factions; the war with the NPA, the Muslim Extremists, the terrorists, the Drug Syndicates; the widespread corruption in the system, the unrest, the debt and deficit, the hunger and poverty of the Filipinos; with all those problems that have long plagued the country, do we want Fernando Poe Jr. to be the next president of this country? 

The problem is that we are living under an abused Democratic system. Abused by the ignorance of the masses who, time and again, have insisted to opt upon undesirable leadership. The qualities of leaders that are not fit for their executive offices. The ignorance of the masses have led us to our own national misery. 

We let the mob rule. The mob does not know governance, they do not understand the details and the complicated nature of political leadership, and now they opt to choose one who they believe, with only mere instinct, as a righteous leader; one who shares the same lack of knowledge like them; the showbiz politicians. And by this, the country stays far from moving into progress. Why? Because the leader elected know does not know how to steer the country to glory. 

What kind of leadership can FPJ offer? His lack of experience and basic education makes him a worse candidate than any politician who ever ran for public office, and to think that by this, he ambitions to run for the highest position in the land. Erap has more than enough experience and knowledge than this supervirgin, FPJ, who knows nothing of politics. At least Erap has gone through the experience of being a mayor, to senator, to vice president, to president. The political ascendancy that he has gone through was more than enough to ready himself for the presidential office. On the other hand, FPJ was plucked out of sheer popularity. Even as a director, he is extremely lousy. FPJ is also known as Ronaldo Reyes, he directed the film which I consider the most awful movie in film history (a true milestone in bad cinema); ALAMAT NG LAWIN. I convince you to watch this movie (rent it in your nearest video shops) for you shall surely be entertained (or disgusted) by its sheer stupidity. I consider this film as a comparison for what I believe is the bad presidency that awaits the country if he wins the presidential election. 

But surely, what can we do, if our country shall be plagued by the utter ignorance among the citizenry, that will hail this supervirgin to lead our country? I would rather endure a Philippines that would be strictly but progressively run by the almost mechanical communist system rather than be run by an incompetent and self-destructive rule under an ignorant leader. The selection of the country's leadership is not something that we can just kid around with. It is not something that we should just take for granted. We want a better Philippines. We want to be proud to be Filipinos again. 

On the other hand, why should the farmers, laborers, and the working class support FPJ, when FPJ has no apparent skills to bring for development upon the farmers and laborers of this country. Like his friend Erap, and the successor, Gloria, FPJ would more or less only do no concrete solid action to help the poor but to make a show of themselves. Try to act as if they are "one with the poor", setting up little fiestas where they eat on the same native tables. Actors are known to "act" and make "foolish pretensions". An actor can utilize this skill in politics. The skill to make foolish pretensions. An actor who runs for office has the skill to fool the people. If the actor-president would run for president, more or less, he could just end up fooling the poor, taking advantage of their ignorance. 

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I AM NOT YOUR HIGH SCHOOL BATCHMATE
By Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing

One of the extremely unpleasant occurrences in life is stumbling into somebody you knew back in High School (may it be a classmate or a batchmate). That irritating sensation that makes them ask you, "so what have you done with your life so far?" which is somewhat synonymous to "are you a professional now? Or just some loser bum still trying to scour the classified ads like somebody desperately looking for a lucky number to bet for the lotto?" which brings you to the part that you could almost hear that person say out loud "I am a rich professional now; are you still a nobody?" Thing is, it incidentally always happens whenever they look fancy or prominent, and you're in your cheapest apparel, looking like you seriously need a bath, while browsing through the MAXIMO magazines that you don't actually buy. 

It is inevitable, though, because whenever you chose an option to make friendly contact with this person from High School, you are left with little choice but to ask "Diin ka na subong?"(where do you work now?) right after you deliver the pleasantries of "Hi! Kumusta na?" which is highly awkward if you really have no intentions to bring the topic of profession into discussion. Sometimes, I am guilty of being ill-mannered to choose the option of not making contact at all. Reasonably, it is because I honestly dislike people that remind me of my High School days (except for some of them). I hated it so much that when I happened to chat online with somebody who claimed she was from the same High School batch, I confessed to her how High School was a bad episode of my life, and delivered an online discourse of how I felt that High School was the minuscule equivalent of the corrupted Philippine Society; a place where unfairness and favoritism exists. Where nobody really does their job of ensuring that education in its most sincere value is being delivered to the minds of the youth. Specifically in my case, I was only able to excel in co-curricular activities when I got to college, which was more open to diverse talents. Even my closest friends may disagree with my negative opinion about how High School life went by from my point of view. But hey, I know that at least some of you fellas out there know what I mean. 

In a diabolical way of putting it, it is a delicious sensation to find out that the cockiest of the spoiled jerks would end up as a large-bellied loser who couldn't get a decent job, and the sluttiest of the pop-queens end up as the local dabiana. It is pure delight to stare at them with eyes that ask "Well, where's your arrogance, now? If my memory serves me right, I can recall the aura of greatness that you used to bathe yourself with" When it happens vice versa, though, it is admittedly a horrible experience. This is more of a selfish point of view that we sometimes ponder on, of course. 

Funny how other ongasings are very eager to tell you of their financially successful yet philosophically pointless lives. You haven't even begun on asking what he/she does for a living now, and he/she already yaks out his job description, the digits of his salary, and the luxurious materials he's bought (may it be a shiny car or his/her recent trip to London where he/she shamelessly had his/her picture taken with the Big Ben on the background, while garbing an "I love London" shirt). The intensity of how his/her yak burst out was like a ravaging mass of sea destroying a dam made of wood. You just smile and nod, and pretentiously say "Wow. That is so nice to hear. I am so touched by how meaningful your life has become" At least by the time she gets to the second sentence of his/her self-gratifying paragraph, all you'd be hearing is a blurry gibberish, because at that point, your mind is already someplace else. It's feels like a contest, challenging you to top that achievement the other has announced. It is as if, he/she would be pacified if you declare that you have a greater achievement than he/she does. I certainly wish that day would come when I get to say "How am I? Well… I am now secretly working with ex-KGB assassins, secretly plotting world domination. How cliché. But at least it's one achievement that would get those who have gone abroad and back with a newly developed Senyorito/Senyorita state of mind to shut up their yakking. 

(oh great going Reymundo, for this Christmas season, you get to have your entire batch hate you by making this rabid article? Sheesh! Kudos. What a way to celebrate the yuletide season. tripxyde@hotmail.com) 

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27
by Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing

This day last year, I turned 27. And I was wondering if it was going to be the last year of my life. Something that might be just a mere coincidence is the fact that a number of people are fetched by death at this particular age. There was Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, among others. Not when they're in 24, 26, or 28, but 27. It is equaled by the number of people who were fetched by death with what could possibly the jinx of the song "My Way". I was half paranoid like I always was. When I went to a Manila last October, I thought I was going to die when I took the plane back and forth (I usually take the boat to and from Manila), I even remember, that whenever I'd say goodbye before boarding the plane, I'd think to myself "This might be the last time we'll be talking to each other". If only I wore enough black shirts, skull rings, and multiple piercings, I could qualify as a true-blue goth. Fortunately, the smooth ride of the plane I rode made me shake off my sort-of-phobia for plane rides.

An airplane crash was far more scary than the other incident that happened in Manila, which was actually a bit laughable. I was threatened by somebody with a knife. And to think he was Ilonggo. It's a long story. Something that has got to do with my past as an editor of this local underground rock magazine. This guy was a member of a band who got offended by an article on the rock zine, who still carried that grudge, up till now. That was like 4 years ago. Whatever happened to "Time heals all wounds"? He even wrote a poem that expresses how his "hate" still couldn't make him sleep. I don't blame him. We all are just too human to be free from childish emotions. But this guy surpassed the qualification from childish to sheer immaturity that he took a knife and delivered a fiery rhetorical a la Katipunero. I was already late for my ten o'clock appointment, I even stopped my female friend who was going to call the police because I didn't have time to book a complaint on some Metro Manila Police Station. But I didn't want a large knife injury, neither did I want to jeopardize the chance of watching Lord of the Rings 3, Star Wars Episode 3, and The Exorcist Prequel just by risking my life to fight a blade-totting manchild. I amazed myself at observing sanity before one who is obviously losing his mind, by calming him down with the kind of lingo that hostage negotiators do. Minutes later, he calmed down with the kind of atmosphere only Gospel comics could match. As I walked out, my mind was confused when I realized that popular culture demands for one to have "striked back" at the face of threat. Should I have just picked up that metal chair beside me and used it to match his knife, delivering a far more disabling blow? Would that have solved the conflict? Well, popular belief is mostly false anyway. Democracy is proof that idiocy can triumph over common sense. 

Realistically, though, we cannot escape idiocy as a characteristic shared by all. I admit that I am a suki of idiocy. Idiocy and Immaturity. When can we truly admit that we are mature enough? Do we wait for white hair and features like Gandalf to finally conclude that we already have come to a state of full maturity and guru-like wisdom? We see immaturity around us. Divorce, Separation, Abortion, Adultery, Corruption, Deceit, Hate, War, Showbiz Politicians. We are all these. If we are merely machines that just conform to certain laws of man, or laws of nature, then fine, we can look forward to a whole lot more millennia to come for the Earth and humankind to exist. But we are immature enough to be careless. Why? Because of our emotions. Is immaturity the equal of emotions? 

In my 27 years on this lonely planet, I have come to realize that where I am and what I am is the result of the choices that I have made, and the choices that have been presented upon me. Do you sometimes think of these things too? I am horribly single, slightly overweight, and very unsatisfied of my dayjob (I love my sideline though! Hi Boss!). This is the result of factors like bad curricular choices, laziness, pride, too much television, and just childish loathing. All of which are emotions that have sparked up an effect, which is currently the state where I am sitting on right now. I cannot blame God. I cannot blame "Life". I cannot even blame "Destiny". Nor can I not blame Kurt Cobain for becoming my college-days inspiration (which has caused me to have a bad back posture because I was regularly mimicking the way he walked). Whatever we do in Life, it is we ourselves who take all the credit for. All of those people who died at 27, I don't know their whats and whys surrounding their deaths, but I am assuming that they were stuck in the middle of crossroads of immaturity, responsibility, and perhaps sanity. Maybe they weren't ready to face the next chapter in life. Maybe they were too reckless to enjoy youth and immaturity. Maybe they lived life to the fullest. Too full, they drowned on it. Me, I don't know where I am. At least I survived 27. I extinguished my little superstition. People make their "resolutions" during the New Year's celebration. I make my resolutions on my birthday, which kind of makes sense because it is a new year for me. We are all constantly trying to grow and outgrow our immaturities. I guess it is only proper that all resolutions should revolve around that idea. 

I was having a very bad December. Yet, when I got home this morning at 4 am from a pointless night-out with friends, I was enlightened by a thought, picked up my celfone, and "texted" the words in my mind to a friend. Perhaps it was a thought that I have subconsciously developed as I was insipidly watching the crowds of beautiful people dancing to the electronica music at the club. It wasn't so much of a satisfying thought. But at least, it gave my soul a little smile. "Maybe fate sometimes wills it for us to suffer in darkness so that we can have time to understand life, and not get spoiled by being pampered by luck and satisfaction"

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SCARE ME?
By Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing

"Change picture na pre. Let's go watch a movie."
It was the evening of Wednesday and it was going to be a holiday the next day, so my buddy and me decided to watch a movie. I couldn't stop myself from cursing because "Lord of the Rings: Return of the King" isn't yet being shown in the local theaters. Damn the MMFF! If the movies that they show on this festival could really be good, maybe I could calm down. But with an immensely UN-PROMISING lineup of goofy movies which include "Gagamboy", "Fantastic Man", and (the unpleasantly laughable) "Captain Barbell". Would you believe they're selling their advance screening tickets in Metro Manila of "LOTR:The Return of the King" for P450 to P500? (I think the screening was on Dec. 17 & 18) MAN! That's like illegal, isn't it? Damn those capitalist swines! "I'm not really in the mood for some heartwarming drama or some cheeky-cheeky comedy…" I said "… I'm really in the mood for something creepy!" So we decided to watch "COLD CREEK MANOR"

I expected COLD CREEK MANOR to be your typical Haunted House horror flick. But it actually was a sort of a mild psychological thriller about how a family which was dreaded by urban life decided to live in the fresh rural countryside, particularly on the residential property known as The Cold Creek Manor. But when they met the son of the owner of the manor (played by Stephen Dorff), they encounter horrific revelations about the past of their new home. 

The movie is very simplistic really. Don't expect CGI Ghosts, Light effect phantasms, and brain-eating zombies. In some ways, I was even a bit disappointed. But what is very satisfying about the movie is that it has very good drama. The family, which was the focus of the film, is so typical and doesn't wander off to extremes like what cliché drama movies do. They're just a normal family faced by a threat and how they dealt with that threat. The drama here is not really centered upon a killer or some monster, but it is more on how the family struggles with their relationships as each circumstance crosses their way. 

There is no unique twist or some complicated tale. The plot is mild, but it is the acting and the characters that carry what interest one can attach with the film. You could only feel as empathetic as you can with how likable they are. Dennis Quaid was, as usually good, as Sharon Stone, who was not so bad. I like her in this movie because she isn't too attractive anymore. It makes her less the slut factor she used to have in her earlier famous films. She's even reminding me of Meryll Streep now. 

Although the film isn't really scary and doesn't really offer some satisfaction over the countdown for the next big movie to be show, it is certainly worth your while. Not unless maybe you like your movie to always have some blockbuster stunts and explosions.

If you want to hurl in laughter, though, you may want to check out SCARY MOVIE 3. It's a spoof comedy that makes fun of recent horror movies like "The Ring", "Signs", and even non-horror movies like "The Matrix" and Eminem's "Eight Mile". There's nothing much to review about a spoof comedy except to say that it was damn funny. 


Speaking of horror flicks, I am dying to watch the new DAWN OF THE DEAD movie. Although the release date of this film is still very distant, I have been waiting and wanting to see it. For years, I have been searching for the 1980s version of "Dawn of the Dead" at video stores and pirated vcd stalls, but to no avail. This movie is actually the sequel to the classic horror movie "The Night of the Living Dead", and the third in the "dead" trilogy is "The Day of the Dead". The first movie was about a strange occurrence which happened at the countryside, how the dead was reanimated back to life, i.e. zombies. Yes, to some, zombies are the edge of horror believability. But it strikes as a nostalgic concept too creepy to be patronized by horror aficionados. The drama of the first movie is about how the people trapped in a house located in a desolate rural location struggled with their own prejudices while under the pressure of the zombies awaiting out their door. The second film "Dawn…" is supposedly a movie about consumerism disguised as a zombie movie. This is the second chapter when the zombie epidemic took over the urban district and the focus of storyline happens inside the mall, where our heroes are trapped. By the third movie "Day of the Dead", the zombies supposedly plague the whole world, and the humans live underground, trying hard to develop a cure and a solution to bring back the world the way it was. 

You can find "Night at the Living Dead" at your nearest video shops, if you're in the mood for something different this chilling season. 

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IN THE STYROFOAM SNOW 
By Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing

All things big or small, all things good or bad, that spells Christmas. 
Santa Claus is so freakin cliché, to a point that he actually undermines the concept of Nativity. It reminds me of how Princess Di's death overshadowed Mother Teresa's. Nevertheless, Santa is the inevitable mascot of the season. Actually, he did exist, as a kind, philanthropic saint, who actually gave gifts to children in the olden days (do your share of research). And he reminds us of childhood. Ah yes. Childhood is the one thing that most 20-somethings yearn for. When you reach your mid-twenties, you begin to fully comprehend how tough life is. By the time you're around 27 or 28, you tend to hit the panic button. The imaginary bell tolls to cue "Last two minutes!" But if you're a child, your worries are simple: Getting Santa to give you a cool toy, like a kickass robot who could look like he could decimate an entire population, instead of cheap chocolate. You hold the chocolate bar up to read the label "Goya. Made in the Philippines….Cool! A Filipino company actually imports goods to the North Pole. Santa is actually doing the Philippines a favor by popularizing Filipino chocolate across the globe!" If only it were true, Santa would have actually contributed something for our country. 

Speaking of gifts, I am humored by the anatomy of the ideal "SP" gift. I've lost count how many times I've received Habonera with candies inside, during my Elementary years. My SPs must've actually hated me. It is actually fun to play a little game of "guess what my SP got me". The runners-up include a box set of drinking glasses, a mug, an office penholder (with little stapler), and my personal favorite, a wallet. These are little things that remind you of Christmas. You would also feel the Christmas spirit when you could find yourself baffled the whole night trying to wrap a gift. You discover how bad you are at the fine art of gift-wrapping. The next day, you end up buying those effortless gift bags which costs a bit higher, but at least, all you have to do is just slide your gift inside the bag and, viola! Gift is ready!

Have you also noticed how, every December, everybody has the ambition to make their houses look like a Disco ball (mirror ball)? It's like everybody has the desire to wrap each and every inch of their house in Christmas lights. You get too excited; you even manage to wrap your water tank (aleebee) with lights. After you have transformed your residence into something that could outshine Las Vegas, you say to yourself "My God! If the three Kings were around they'd be misled by the brightness of my house! Di bale, I will offer them Hamon and Keso De Bola that resembles white plywood" But no matter how bright your house is, it will never outshine the brightness of your celfone. Daw flare gun. With matching Meteor Garden ring-tone pa!

No matter how big or small, we should not fail to remember the positive aspects that make Christmas meaningful. From the impressive Christmas cards that the disabled and the orphaned made, the parols made by the hands of detainees, the warm visitations to Asilos, orphanages, and prisons, the charity, and all things that hold close to what Christmas really is. Not just Santa Claus or Jingle bells (ocho-ocho version) ringtones, but the birth of Christ and the honor and charity given to Him by humble kindness. 

(If Santa Claus lives with Elves, he must be living with Legolas, Galadriel, and Elrond! OWMAYGUNDAM! If Gandalf gets fat…he looks just like…Sheet! GANDALF IS SANTA CLAUS! Your thoughts? tripxyde@yahoo.com)

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MY EMAILS WITH SANTA CLAUS
By Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing
(May contain irreverent topics and terms inappropriate for children)

Dear Santa, 

It is with great displeasure that I write this letter, for I am complaining about the gift that you left at my sock this Christmas. If I only knew that you were coming, I could have, at least, prepared a decent letter asking what I wanted this Christmas. And no, I did not want another freakin wallet as a gift. The last person who gave me a wallet for a Christmas gift was my ex, which probably was an indication of her lack of affection for me. It would have been best if you stuffed prepaid cards and internet cards on that freakin wallet. I would have gladly made a full article honoring you and "The Mystery of who Santa Claus Really Is" I could have made you a hotshot, Santababy! Even more hyped up than those F4 idiots! And how the hell did you get into our house, by the way? You should have at least had the goodwill to clean our house up. Imagine the thought of getting up on midsleep to pee and found you applying floorwax on our living room floor. 

I have been a good boy this year and I deserve a little sincere joy to warm my pathetic soul. And you couldn't even give me a decent gift? I am *sob* *sob* shattered! 

Rey

x-x-x

Dear Rey, 

I apologize for causing you any disappointment over the gift that I gave you. I must've been at the wrong house again. I was a bit tipsy. I have recently discovered that Filipino beer and Filipino whiskey are superior! I could not believe why many of these Filipino kids go to bars and try to BRAG that they're drinking imported expensive beer, while nobody could beat Pinoy ale. What's funny is that these Pinoy brats would hold their beers in such a manner that the label would be seen and read by everybody passing by. To top it off, they would rap along the hip-hop music playing, desperately trying to imitate African-American slang. 

Sincerely,
Santa.

x-x-x

Dear Santa, 

Please don't change the topic. I know you're just trying to pacify my misery by trying to impress me with your loathing for coño brats and hip-hop music. The fact remains that I hate your gift for me. A freakin wallet. At least you could have inserted some North Pole cash inside. Somehow, I think that it has a far higher exchange rate than other currencies. 

You could have at least gave me a trip on your Christmas reindeer tour around the world. I would have wanted to stop by some country where Bong Revilla's "Captain Barbell" (and the other MMFF movies) is NOT shown, while "Lord of the Rings: Return of the King" is shown. That would have been enough. 

Because you have an extensive knowledge of all the psychological personalities of all children in the world, does it mean you have some kind of a PHd in psychology? Do you secretly moonlight as a Professor? 

Going back to my wallet… Why a wallet?

Rey

x-x-x

Dear Rey, 

Because a wallet as a gift can piss you off. 
Early this year, you wished to be a better, more productive writer, right? 
Well, little can you comprehend that some of your artistic fuel comes from your pathetic life. The more miserable you fall into the pit of depression, the more you express your inner darkness and inner guru. You begin to comprehend pain, you see all sides of what is negative. You can differentiate each and every demon of the world. 

You don't drink, don't smoke, you don't even get yourself "herbalized" anymore. It is in writing that you vent out your angst. If you ask me if I have given you what you wanted this Christmas, I have granted it. Look at yourself. Your angst is printed on a city-wide paper. You should be happy about that, don't you?

Most people never see the little blessings that come with what is bad and negative. 

I hope you see the light, my child.

Sincerely, Santa Claus. 

x-x-x

Dear Santa, 

Pack Yu.

Rey. 

(tripxyde@hotmail.com)

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HOLIDAY BUFFET
By Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing

What we will soon miss from the holiday season is abundancy. This is the only time we could have the financial capacity to dine in places we'd never imagine to dine in. And when we do we say to ourselves "Wow. I feel like sosyal eating here"

Last night, our family had sort-of-a family reunion with my Lola and my Titos and Titas who arrived from Manila. We ate dinner at some nice classy hotel-restaurant, it was actually buffet dinner. As you may know, in simple Pinoy terms, Buffet is referred to as "Eat All You Can" you pay a specific amount, and eat as much as you can. It's like attending a dinner party (usually fiesta) of somebody rich. It means that in order to have a fulfilling buffet dinner, you must starve yourself beforehand. Don't eat breakfast, don't eat lunch, and when it is time to face the buffet dinner, fill your plate up as much as you can, and never stop going back to the serving tables to get more food. You paid for it, dammit! 

The Soup. Savory as it may be, it sometimes feels as if it is a cheating tool for the buffet customer from eating more food. I am a Pinoy, dammit! I don't need manners to dictate me that the soup should be prologue of eating! The Salad bar. I want calories and carbohydrates, fats from slaughtered red meat, pork and fish! I can always get a cabbage and mayonnaise. Besides, if I wanted to eat "slimming food", I'd never had come here to chomp-chomp-chomp!

One would sometimes think it's a piece of cake to tell the upper-class who are knowledgeable at formal dinner manners, apart from the typical simple hombres like me. They never really fill their plates with too much food, probably because you could come back for more anyway, but I, on the other hand, like any other umang, come back & forth filling my plates to the brim, which is disgusting, yet it saves time and effort. 

Buffet meals sometimes feel like you're vying for Guiness' Book of World Records' "The man who ate the most". At some point the waiters just stand there a distant from you, but facing at your direction. It's normal; it is their job to await your orders. But after serving yourself two plates full of food, it feels like they're Medics awaiting with an ambulance, for you to have a heart attack from the mass quantities that you eat. You begin to think that they're whispering to each other "Wow. This dude is like one hell of an eating machine!"

The desserts. You want to eat the desserts because sweets are irresistible. But it just ensures that you consume enough calories and sugar to heighten your inner facilities to DefCon 3. At this point, your belt is loose, and your feet feel like the 5th and 6th leg of the chair you're sitting on. You're nauseous and feel like vomiting. After buffet you feel guilty that you've eaten an amount of food that could feed a platoon of afghan refugees. You feel guilty because in some countries, children die of starvation. But you're there in a fancy restaurant, being treated like freakin Bacchus. But as punishment for it, you will grow another layer of fat on your waistline. And you will lose all chances of scoring with the chick you desire unless you go through a torturous amount of exercise. On the other hand, discussing about starvation and poverty belongs to a different (and more serious) topic altogether.

I hope the restaurant owner doesn't misinterpret my column. I did enjoy dinner a lot. I could even recommend it to my friends. Bon Apetit! 

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APOCALYPSE POSTPONED
By Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing

Earth. A bright blue globe shimmering in the blackness of space. Its sight is a glorious beauty to any entity who view it from a distance. There I was, wearing what seemed like a Greek robe and Chuck Taylor sneakers that appear to have tiny wings. I look like a fat freakin Hermes. Somehow, I felt like I was some kind of cosmic spirit who watches over time and fate. 

"I am Dethstroika. Decimator of civilizations. Destroyer of planets. Adjuster of evolutions" a voice boomed throughout space, as a godlike titan appeared out of a black hole. He continues "I am Apocalypse. And I have come to bring forth Earth's end. Time must always…"

"Hold it! Hold it right there, Creepy Jack. You mean THIS big blue planet over here? Who are you again?"
"DETHSTROIKA! Decimator of civilizations. Destroyer of…"
"Right. Dethstroika. Is that a Russian word? German?"
The titan's face changed oddly. "Uh..well… I just thought it sounded like a kickass name"
"Wow. Titans are also capable of being utterly dumb, aren't they? So why the heck am I here, anyway. This seems like an odd dream. Am I supposed to stop you from destroying this planet? Is this the portion where I am supposed to deliver a wussy speech, talking you into NOT destroying Earth? Or probably tour you around and show you the beautiful things around this world that will make you reconsider from your intentions of bringing forth doomsday?"
"Umm… I suppose a tour would be enlightening"
"Oh yeah… I'll show you beauty…" with opposite intentions, to show him sensible reasons why he should indeed destroy this Earth.
We all thought that doomsday would come on the year 2000. I never expected that it was going to be now. Finally. At last. Earth's end. Burn, Earth! Burn! I was excited to show Dethstroika the rotten things on this Earth, the destructive capitalist greed-stricken nature of humankind. I snapped my fingers and teleported us in some specific area on Earth. First off, the forests, where Mr. Titan would witness himself the devastation man has inflicted on the trees. 
But as the portal opened up, I was surprised to find some youngsters and adults on some kind of tree-planting project. People were helping each other. Moving seedlings upon selected areas. Some trees lined up beautifully like giant soldiers on straight lines. The Titan revealed a smile of joy in his reptilian lips. I was cursing at myself, and opened another portal. This time, I ought to show him a typical urban setting where thugs and hooligans sow terror upon each other. Perhaps on some district where crime happens almost every night. 
The portal opened. And my jaw dropped to find that there was a Christmas party and everybody was handing out gifts to everybody else. Everybody young, old, and even the ones who looked like bulky thugs and hooligans were in a festive mood of goodwill and mirth. They were greeting each other. There was no trace of hate or hostility anywhere. There was even holiday music in the air, as cop and thug ate keso de bola side-by-side, as tanod and hoodlum were sharing ginger teas and beer. I was once again mumbling, but the doomsday Titan beside me seemed to shed a tear of gladness and said "Mankind is beautiful. 'Tis indeed a time of jovial unity. Seems like mankind is not that doomed by their negative aspects just yet. Perhaps, my hammer of apocalypse should not fall just yet"

"No! No! No! ...Here, let me show you another scene of human cruelty" I desperately waved my hand to open another portal. This time, I will show him a scene of bestial cruelty as barbaric humans execute cute puppies and turn them into pulutan!

Just as the portal opened, we heard a long agonizing squeal of death, and saw the flooding blood of a lifeless dog, "man's bestfriend" being inhumanly transformed into some pulutan of delight. I jumped in sinister glee "Aha! You see, my doomsday pal, humanity has reached barbarism! Quick! Turn this planet to ashes now!"

The Titan was calm, and quick to notice that there was more to the scene than meets the eye. "But look where they're bringing that delicious stew!" The fat chef brought the large pot outside the kitchen as the scene revealed a hallway full of homeless beggars and orphans being served with various delicacies. It was a grand charity dinner for the homeless. Dethstroika once again cracked a Walt Disney smile. "Oh how nice! These humans can find ways to help their less-privileged neighbors"

"Wat Eyber" I frowned. "Maybe you have just come at the wrong time, Mr. Titan. But you will soon see how right I am! And you will be back as soon as you expect it! And you will regret not bringing forth doomsday earlier than you planned to! Perhaps after the elections on 2004! Mark my word, you'll be back!"

I opened up my eyes and found myself in my messy room. Another silly dream. 
(tripxyde@yahoo.com)

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