Hellmouth Portal

I found this on a blog:

"Lucky is the man who is the
first love of a woman,
but luckier is the woman who is
the last love of a man."

JESUS! WE’RE ALL INSANE!

…Hypertext. That got me thinking about why we use Jesus’ name in vain but not Buddha or something… Haha.

Anyway. Still pimping.

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Today, I had been singled out from a herd of poser sheep.

Just what is it that draws a lion (or insert your choice of predator here) towards me?

I don’t pose enough.

Maybe
I should shower myself with "Oh yes I do know that author!" And swim my
way around to feigning I actually know what I’m talking about with the
nodding, half-opened mouth, and direct eye contact. Talk about left
leaning ideas and then model my way in a fancy cafe (or insert your
choice of artsy fartsy gathering area here) as I celebrate with my
co-artists the adrenaline rush of literature talk (again, your choice of trash).

Of course, I rant.

Because, yes, go on please, loving (future) artists of my (dying) country. Without you, our country may as well not exist anyway for I truly, truly, truly, believe you can control it’s culture… or attempt to, anyway.  But please. Please. Please? Do you READ MORE

I have three stories to share. Three. The amount doesn’t really give it
any value. In fact, my stories have no value at all. These are just
stories I deem interesting making it my stories. But these are just stories with absolutely no value at all so why bother to share?

You
might say, my imaginary reader, that you should be the judge of that.
Well, if so, and if you haven’t clicked the exit window button yet, I
would first tell the stories before commenting on … your judge-ness.

First,
though not really in a chronological sense of what happened today, is
my rant about my school’s miscellaneous fee. Under it are the fees for
"Library," "Medical" and such. But see, the thing I don’t understand
about it are the labels "Athletics" and "Cultural." Aside from I don’t
know where the hell I get or learn these in school, I apparently have to pay shining seventy five bucks for "Athletics" and fifty for "Cultural." The only theory that I can come up with is that I am paying for an invisible gym and I was asleep when they passed the law about paying for one’s own culture.

Now that makes sense.

But
it makes a little less sense when compared to the moment my head turned
exorcist-style because I saw a woman coming out from a men’s restroom. Read more.

Pimping my new homebase.

——————–

Matagal-tagal naming inabangan ni kasin ang paglabas ng pirata ng Maskman. Noon pa naming inaasahang lumabas ito ng ibalik ng GMA7 si Shaider
pero natutunan namin na hindi ka talaga puwedeng umasa sa mga
korporasyong nakatali lang din sa ibang korporasyon, mas ispesipiko– Amerika.
Ang kaya lang tuloy ibigay sa’min ay ang mga walang katuturang bersyon
ng Power Rangers kung saan wala pa ring ikukumpara ang kanilang mga
special effects sa 80’s-90’s na Sentai. Sinubukan kong panoorin ang mga
Power Rangers na ito (mas ispesipiko, ang Ninja Storm) pero kahit na
pinaliguan nila ako ng sandamukal na robot, flashing lights, at o sige,
cute na mga artista, hindi pa rin nila naiparamdam ang kilig na ang mga sinaunang Sentai lang ang nakakapagbigay.

Maaaring nostalgia lang ang lahat. Pero bakit iba ang kilig na dinulot ng Maskman kaysa ng mapanood ko muli ang Bioman?

Sa
lahat ng makukulay na "bayaning" sinubaybayan ko noon (at mukhang
hanggang ngayon din naman, salamat sa You Tube), ispesyal ang Maskman
dahil ino-overread ko ito. Sinasabi kong mayroon itong katalinuhan sa
anyo at laman. Sa anyo dahil obvious naman ang ine-establish na plot sa
pilot episodes. Para bang pinaghandaan ang ending (hindi tulad ng
Bioman na pakiramdam ko’y pinagdesisyunan na lang ang katapusan dahil
gwapo ang anak ni Dr. Man). Kahit na ba state-the-obvious ang mga
linya, sumusubok na magkaroon ng complexity ang palabas. Hindi ba
nakamamangha ang kalabang si Oyobur?