Show me da Manny!

Okay, I think I have to cave in to the much-ballyhooed win (which fight isn’t anyway?) and throw my slight disdain towards his minor bullshit-ness over the window. When you’ve got fame and power at your disposal, why not bullshit around right? To rub the already clichéd term more, Manny is really something—he’s unlike any Filipino not just in strength but in the ubiquitous charm. He’s a slap in the face to Filipino bourgeoisie. To the poor, he’s an icon of triumph; a testament to that elusive luck, which we Filipinos have grabbed onto so tight we forgot to do anything else. He’s “the great hope” as TIME magazine would put it.

I can very much recall my very first participation to the communal Filipino act (by now it should be some sort of a Filipino tradition—a kind of phenomena that depletes traffic flow in the streets and diminishes crime rate to almost nil) of watching a Pacquiao fight two years ago with complete strangers. It was in a department store and there was some exhibit of which I was a part in. It was a Sunday, as usually the case, and there was a large-enough TV with the Pacquiao fight. As long as it was on, it did not take more than five minutes for the entire vicinity to be filled with excited onlookers (I sat down on the floor for convenience), as if the TV is some kind of medium channeling a modern-day deity. During the Pacquiao-Hatton fight, I watched it with a room full of my colleagues, around 30 people. So imagine the fucking noise it created when Hatton was pummeled to an unconscious state in the second round. Everyone looked as if they won the championship themselves, a beaming smile and pair of delightfully-lit eyes.

The media is overflowing with words and the TV is replete with footage of the said communal act. For really, it does move mountains and Manny can move the nation into such state which we are so quick to call as unity—we are so damned united. We feel our brothers same excitement. We feel truly proud. We feel we are living like patriotic Filipinos rooting for their hero. Dare I say that never have we felt a sense of Filipino pride so strongly than with Manny’s bouts, especially to those whose idea of the EDSA revolution is that of the history books. This sense of unity is commendable, the sense of pride inevitable. How can you not be? I am proud.

But see, while Manny’s victories we claim as ours, while we unite as a nation and feel an overwhelming sense of pride, what of after? For what? We go to our daily goings-on, be bums, be corporate and bureaucratic slaves, be pessimists, be optimists, be friends, be enemies until the next Pacquiao fight. We wait for that glimmer of hope, that façade of victory we always wanted to have a taste of—but unlike Manny we seem to have lost the willpower, alright, the “firepower” and we go back mired in empty promises of relief from misery. If Manny so reflects our country, then it would be that, this country has always struggled but success (power) has always remained to be in the hands of the few. So, after the fight, we go back to being a country in disarray, our goals and ideals in shambles, prone to crime and corruption, wallowing in poverty, with a continuing exodus of people abroad, we go back to bitching about the traffic, until the next Pacquiao fight finds us in each other’s company again.

Ganito kami sa Mindanao

Magulo dito. Sabi kasi ng national media, warzone daw ang Mindanao. Tanong pa ng isa sa isang presscon na nadaluhan ko: ang BJE ba ang solusyon sa “kultura ng baril” sa Mindanao? Huwat? Eh, halata namang wala siyang alam sa konteksto ng conflict sa rehiyong ito. Nakalimutan din ng The Imperial Manille na nandidito din ang Davao, Cagayan, Zamboanga, General Santos, Butuan, Surigao at iba pang mga emerging cities na promising ang mga potentials pagdating sa business and tourism. Marahil di din nito alam na kaya may nakakain pa sila sa taas eh dahil panay pa rin ang supply natin ng agricultural produce.

Siguro nga dahil they need to feed their own agenda, and Mindanao is an easy scapegoat. Sabi pa nga nung isang executive ng BPO ng minsang dumalaw sa isang conference dito sa Davao: di daw akalain ng ibang dayuhan na may BPO industry na palang natayo sa Mindanao, kala nila puro giyera, puro Abu Sayyaf.

Di nga naman tulad sa Makati, kung saan makakita ka ng mga professional at sophisticated-looking people who sashay and brandish their cigarettes outside high-rise buildings like the RCBC tower, at hindi mga baril. Talagang, what a sight of civilization and modernization it is.

Ganito raw kasi sila sa Makati. Yung lahat ng kailangan mo – edukasyon hanggang mga health benefits at welfare ng mga matatanda – ay sagot ni... Aba, kung kaya niyang gawin ‘yon eh di dapat ngang ihalal natin siya, by all means. Lalo na kung nung bata ka pa eh nagpapakain ka ng baboy habang kinukutya ka ng mga kalaro mo.

Ganito rin sana sa buong bansa… Naku, napaka-misguided at napaka-baluktot na logic. Hindi pwedeng i-replicate mo na lang ang Makati at gawin mong Makati ang buong bansa. Talagang hindi pwede yun. Hayaan nating ang Manila ay magpaka-Manila, ang Makati, magpaka-Makati. Ang bawat rehiyon sa bansa ay may kanya-kanyang strength, sa agricultura man or sa larangan ng industriya at services.

Op kors, hindi naman sasabihin ng ad na kaya dahil libre ang notbuk at Paracetamol sa Makati eh dun halos lahat ng malaking establishments –central financial district kung baga, parang Wall Street. Kahit na ba ang mga kompanyang ito ay may mga operation or yung mismong largely operating outside Metro Manila -ang iba sa liblib na parte ng Pilipinas kahit dun sa mga tinatawag naming conflict-affected areas. Mas nakakagulat kung sa laki ng revenues na pumapasok sa lungsod nila ay ‘di pa malilibre ang basic social service.

Kung gusto ng pagkakapantay-pantay, paigtingin at bigyang puwang ang local autonomy, coupled with greater transparency at accountability to its people. Sa isang banda, mukhang mahihirapan nga tayo sa huling ‘yon, dahil the katiwalian is deeply entrenched in the higher echelons of power. Pero subukan natin ang patakbuhin ng mabuti ang local autonomy. Patotohanan natin ang katagang decentralization, dahil magpasa-hanggang ngayon mukhang kakarampot lang ang natatamasa ng mga nasa kanayunan. Okay the term is too provincial, make it outside-Metro Manila. Diba, probinsya naman talaga ang tawag nila sa mga lugar outside their territory…

Let’s make local autonomy work. Decentralize. Look at the examples of Galing Pook and the untold stories of LGUs making it out on their own. Headline readers will be shocked that away from politics and crime, good things are actually happening on the ground. At siguro, tsaka natin masasabing, ganito kami sa Pilipinas, hindi lang yung Ganito kami sa Makati…

Mothers

I was two years old when the EDSA revolution took place. But unfortunately, I was too young to actually take part in it; hell I don't even remember where I was that time. And so I was able to learn about it by the books, just like everybody who were born after that historic event. I resorted to texting some of my friends in Manila and my colleagues who were there if they attended the wake or witnessed the cortege to get a feel of their experience. I would've wanted to be there.

The last time I remembered shedding a tear while something historic was happening on national TV was when the late Pope John Paul II came to the Philippines. I was so young that time but I remembered this figure waving to the multitudes of people who were as equally moved as I am. Though try as I may, I wasn't really able to explain why I cried. I just did.

I cried during the necrological services but mostly due to Kris' speech. That prodigal daughter whose elitist, puerile tendencies I've felt were such shameless loathsome acts for someone whose parents were national icons not only of democracy but of simplicity. But she was true; she was sincere as she could ever be in that farewell speech. For how can you fault a grieving daughter who can't find the words to say goodbye to her mother? It hit me when she said that they're gonna be okay, but then not. For how can anyone say they are truly, completely okay when a part them has been taken away forever.

My mom died 14 years ago of breast cancer when cure and even prevention were not only rare but costly. Her birthday was August 5, the day of Cory's burial. And so I remember the loss, the pain; revived by the beautiful eulogies. Despite being so young at that time, Mama's parting words to me at her deathbed reverberates up to this moment. How can you truly say you will be okay, when you go back to the loss and still feel the same pain, the same emptiness?

Photo from Nat Garcia (AFP/Getty Images) courtesy of foreignpolicy blog.

Jack-o

Young Michael on the cover of the recent Newsweek.

Hasn't so much devastated me, at least not having that urge to play his songs and download his videos, or worse horribly mimicking his moves and screeching falsettos. I did though, the screech, only to my colleague’s fervent request, while watching a recent spate of news via hotel cable in Pagadian. MTV has been showing his videos as well. After going back to Pagadian after a weeklong sun’s exposure courtesy of airport runways and national roads being rehabbed, we drank a couple of beers while listening to an old duo singing old songs (it’s free anyway). During the band’s break, Jacko’s old videos played incessantly. The crowd seemed to be mesmerized. I bet some of them don’t even remember where the trademark moves come from. The singing came back just in time to cut off Thriller. So we left.

Cannes 2009

Hear ye, hear ye, the official line up of Cannes 2009 is up for grabs. Loads of heavyweight shit. Pretty impressive lineup huh. Where else can you find Tarantino, Lee, Campion, Almodovar, and a familiar posse of Haneke, Loach, Noe, Lou Ye, Chan-Wook, To, Ming-liang, Coixet, Von Trier, and Alain Resnais! and Mendoza strikes yet again, whew, gosh, did I already mention the entire oeuvre? That's how promising it looks. But the unfortunate remains, I have to beg off from attending the coverage of the premiere. I know it sucks, especially if delude yourself. Ha! Anyway, the Pinoy indie scene is on a rampage. Martin and Alix also makes an appearance in Un Certain Regard and Special Screenings.

The complete line up:

• Pedro Almodovar - Broken Embraces
• Andrea Arnold - Fish Tank
• Jacques Audiard - Un Prophete
• Marco Bellocchio – Vincere
• Jane Campion - Bright Star
• Xavier Giannoli – A L’Origine
• Isabel Coixet – Map of the Sounds of Tokyo
• Michael Haneke - The White Ribbon
• Ang Lee – Taking Woodstock
• Ken Loach – Looking for Eric
• Lou Ye - Spring Fever
• Brillante Mendoza – Kinatay
• Gaspar Noe – Enter The Void
• Park Chan-Wook – Thirst
• Alain Resnais – Les Herbes Folles
• Elia Suleiman – The Time That Remains
• Quentin Tarantino - Inglourious Basterds
• Johnnie To – Vengeance
• Tsai Ming-liang – Face
• Lars Von Trier – Antichrist

The poster by the way is taken from Michaelangelo Antonioni's 1960 film L'Avventura.

How do you break free without breaking apart?

Apparently, they have the answer. Much as I wouldn't want to talk Oscars... Ok, whatever, let me post this fantastic photo instead of one of the most indubitable tandems, real-life at that, of 2008. Vanity Fair released this, and other actor-director tandems, weeks before ceremonies, but I'm posting it now.

Due to insistent public demand, or rather, due to a demand made publicly (hi Andy, hehe), I'm posting also the Woody-Penelope photo. What conjures up your mind?

Grammehhhy.

Saw the delayed telecast of the 81^st Grammys last night. Nothing really mind-blowing like in the previous years. They were good perfs though and we just might expect inter-generational numbers in the years to come. It has become quite a fad these days. This year there was Four Tops’ remaining duo Smokey Robinson and forgot-his-name with Jamie Fox and Ne-Yo, Stevie and the Jonas Bros, and Al Green, Justin and Boyz II Men. And Katy Perry comes out of ginormous banana and strut on stage with bananas on her hips. Was that a new song from U2 in the opening number? That one kicked ass. So did the perfs from Coldplay and Radiohead. I liked most though the perf of the 4 rap gods Jay-Z, Kanye, T.I. and Lil Wayne plus the mom-to-beat M.I.A. Did she give birth immediately after that? T.I. will be serving his 66-day sentence though after the Grammys, for a previous firearm-possession charge. I like that my faves of 2008 won like Adele, Estelle/Kanye’s American Boy and of course Coldplay’s Viva La Vida. Much has been said about this recent outing, or rather, much has been said about it’s being U2-ish. You can’t help it, the tracks are so anthem-ic you can’t help but… get lost… every river that you try to cross…

Which way forward?

The d(D)eck of the Marco Polo here in Davao was filled to the brim not just with prominence but with ideas and opinions of notable guests. I watched the taped-as-live ANC Special called Mindanao: The Way Forward along with my colleagues because Chairman was there.

Like the guests, we had midnight dinner. The production crew should have anticipated that cramming in a pool of prominent legal experts, local government officials, civil society and private sector representatives, the military, the media and noted Mindanao academicians would render a three-and-a-half hour shooting. I enjoyed Tony Velasquez though because he kept on joking. I hope they include his Facebook-Friendster joke.

From this recent update, ANC has decided to cut the special into two parts, which was originally just 90 minutes. The discussions were lively; full of insights both fresh and hackneyed (guess which belongs to which, haha). Though reading from the ANC segment outline, which constantly prods out-of-the-box insights, I guess I found them really kulang, but let’s see how it turns out.

Mindanao: The Way Forward airs tonight on ANC 730 pm and tomorrow, Saturday same time.

so long, redneck.

I like this photo. Obama's wax figure was inaugurated days before his official swearing in Washington D.C. at Madame Tussaud's museum in Amsterdam. Meanwhile, a transcript (with video) of Obama's inaugural speech via NYTimes. Let's digress a little shall we, but, still in keeping with the fever, here are hot and fresh news bits, straight from the pan, from America's Finest News Source, The Onion: incessant jackhammering ruining Obama's speech, a probable hidden gripe from a former Democratic contender, and Bush dying from his sleep.

Madness, Inc.

Much is being fussed over the Alabang boys case that it has now ballooned into a media frenzy with issues zigzagging here and there you feel like you're on a trip to the mountains. The only missing puzzle piece is for some opportunist to make a movie out of this, or to make it more cutesy-cutesy, spoofed by the adorable kids of Going Bulilit.

It didn't expose any social malaise, whatever the fuck you call it, because c'mon, drugs -- okay, illegit drugs -- have been snorted by kids (and I say this referring to being stuck in an adolescent nature despite age) in the 60s. Pot sessions have been conducted wherever and depressed and trouble teens have been coking themselves to kingdom come. It just that nobody really gets caught, and when there are, just little fishes in the pond. Sharks are still out there sniffing out blood. But what it does really expose though are people like Sotto who is such a laughing stock when explaining what an anti-drug czar does. When you're watching the press conference, and you think this is the guy also topbilling Iskul Bukol, you can just shake your head with such madness.

Speaking of insanity, I can't believe that Mad Men, is one of those goddamn great shows that nobody is watching, if my colleague is right in quoting an article she read. Of course that's an exaggeration, but I can't really blame the non-lovers or even haters if there are. Because Mad Men is just it. It's so goddamn mad brilliant you can't believe it's unfolding in your eyes. The womanizing, the chauvinistic banter, the endless swirling smokes, the punchlines delivered like pitches. It's stylish and intelligently written it's delicious. If you think a period film is tough, think about making a period series. Written and produced by the team that brought you The Sopranos, allow me with the cliche, but it's unlike anything you've seen. Ok, that sounded really awfully cliche. Matthew Weiner, you are the Mafia boss.

Bush-whacked

Hahahaha, a thousand times over. Feck you Mr. President. In a bid for a graceful exit, which will never happen anyway, Bush tries a security accord with Iraq, announcing it on a press conference with premier Nouri Al-Maliki. Instead, he gets a shock of his life courtesy of a pair of size 10 shoes from journalist Muntader-al-Zeidi. For all we know, al-Zeidi could have said, Merry Christmas, you dawg.

Editorial and opinion piece of Conrado de Quiros in today's PDI are all on it. Alas, we won't be seeing shoe attacks in press conferences at Malacañang, as Palace officials say Filipino journalists are more courteous.

Bordado as peace champion.

I didn’t even notice him when he descended the stairs of the Cotabato hotel. Maybe that was part of the lackluster foray he would have to embark in being a peace champion for Mindanao. An Inquirer writer questioned the cherubic adjective I used. Well, not really question as in the sense of validity because if it were I would automatically submit to him my rash choice of word. I said I wrote for the drama. Which is really true, I wanted to write at least for this one an article that is not newsy-turgid I wouldn’t even have the stomach to read it. But really, Robin Padilla did well and I didn’t expect him to be that down-to-earth and accommodating.

Visiting peace and development communities (PDCs) in South Cotabato, Sultan Kudarat and Maguindanao for the past weeks has been grueling but satisfying. Some of these stories are really inspiring I wonder they don’t make it in the news. Wait, I shouldn’t really wonder, because this is the perfect antithesis to whatever is published about Mindanao. But then hey, we’re right on track and I think we’re getting there.

Robin Padilla as ambassador for Peace in Mindanao.

Robin Padilla story-tells to elementary pupils of Broce Elementary School of Peace in Datu Odin Sinsuat, Shariff Kabunsuan.

Victory

I am way beyond happy. I mean, I'm ecstatic.

Americans made it happen. They put the first black president in the White House, something which had never happened for some 200 or so years. And hopefully after 200 years of independence, I sure do hope, even if I don't live up to see that day, that our country would elect a leader everybody can be proud of. But I don't think it will be 2010, unlike what Binay said in the news last night. We won't be replicating such a historical election in the Philippines. Taking our lot out of our quandary as a nation will go beyond 2010. We need some major CHANGE, people.

Obama did more than just win an election. He took people to voting precints - youth, women, elderly - in a turnout that's historical in itself. Obama didn't encourage them just to vote him. He made the people believe they can realize that change by exercising their right.

Meanwhile, some excerpts from Mr. President-elect's speech: The Independent has the full text or you can listen to it here courtesy of NPR.

"...You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime - two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century."

"...But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And, above all, I will ask you to join in the work of remaking this nation, the only way it's been done in America for 221 years - block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand."

"...And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote tonight, but I hear your voices. I need your help. And I will be your president, too.

"...And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces, to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of the world, our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand.

"...This is our time, to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth, that, out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope. And where we are met with cynicism and doubts and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes, we can."

Photo courtesy of foreignpolicy.com

History in the making

Up to date news on the historic 2008 U.S. elections.

Breaking news: Barack Obama, first-termer Illinois Senator is the 44th U.S. President as projected, and the first African American to hold the highest executive position, with 324 electoral votes against Republican nominee John McCain's 124 as of 11:01 US time, according to AP cited in Yahoo News. Click here and here and here for some straight from the pan news.

Update: Listening to Obama's victory speech live at Grant Park, Chicago. "The new dawn of American leadership is at hand," said the historical president in his raspy but charismatic voice. Punctuated by jubilant, resounding cheers of "Yes, we can."

Caco-phonies

The whole nation is crumbling to bits, millions of pesos can now slither its way to Moscow courtesy of perennial schmucks, plus the much-awaited confrontation with a fertilizer scam pig, err, king, and Anabelle Rama wants fucking yacht for crissakes. Come hell or high water and the miracle of Sto. Niño, give her the goddamn yacht! Jeez, whatever the fuck is happening, I too am miserly stuck in a quagmire.

Man of faith.

As with the Philippines, religion in the U.S. pretty much has a say in the course of the election campaigns, more evidently with the Obama-McCain match. Though as to influencing using religion as tool, our lot is more shameless and blatant of recent times. We have our presidentiables attending prayer rallies and also acting as if they too have been suddenly possessed by the Holy Spirit. Make way for the anointed one!

Unfortunately, haters gripe over Obama’s seemingly lack of strong religious foundation or his unorthodox way of Christianity, which can be “politically problematic”. His schism with Trinity United Church and Rev. Wright, erstwhile spiritual counselor (?) and head of TUC has also escalated into a religious bout that has in some way created a perception of a confused leader.

In a lengthy article in the July issue of Newsweek, writers Lisa Miller and Richard Wolffe cited a survey which reveals that around 12 percent think Obama is a Muslim and many perceived he was raised in a predominantly Islamic home. I remember chatting with a friend from Long Beach, California (who I surmise a Republican) a few months back and though I can vaguely note all the details about the conversation which was regarding the U.S. elections, I think it was something about this perception of Obama.

Indeed, Obama has been exposed to Islamic culture because of his stepfather (his father, who is said to be an atheist, left them at 2). His mother, whom Obama referred to as an agnostic, took him and his stepsister to Buddhist temples while in Indonesia andalso attending Catholic masses. In Hawaii where he spent high school, the family would also spend time in the United Church of Christ congregations. His readings also say a lot about his influences: St. Augustine, Friedrich Nietzsche, Martin Luther King, among others.

Obama has upheld Christianity saying that “the emotional and intellectual” is joined in a powerful sense. He is touched by the Christian story and tries to align his actions with the teachings but traditionalists have often accused him because of his confused, modern brand of Christianity. Obama believes redemption only through Jesus Christ but also he says that the Golden rule is a very important guiding principle for him.

No religion offers one single truth and Obama is well aware of it. His search, his life, his journey is very American.

“I’m on my own journey and I’m searching,” he said. And, “I leave open the possibility that I’m entirely wrong.”

His honesty is courageous. His admittance is audacity. And I admire him for that.

Justice hotdogs

We can argue to kingdom come the merits of the case (but of course I wouldn’t do that because I’m not a lawyer), the sincerity of the act of pardon or the executive privilege which this curmudgeon from the department of justice hotdogs, whose idea of electioneering does not include dispensing cash to barangay officials who deserved it anyway even if it is election fever, said is all but executively and prerogatively exclusive which in saying attributes godly omnipotence.

The grief over the death and outrage over the decision however are beyond the limits of our comprehension but it is for the family to bear for the rest of their lives.

I remember watching an episode of Justice, where Victor Garber and Kerr Smith, talked after a trial over a bunch of hotdogs. Garber’s character said something about the similarities of justice and hotdogs. How we love them served hot and fresh and juicy but we never really got to care how it is being made.

Webs of gibberish

Two months ago I read Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho which makes me feel like a geeky loser having read it at such a later time, like the past two months, given the reputation (notoriety) of this novel in contemporary literature. But even if I read it in college or even early on in high school, I wouldn’t have appreciated its depth and the themes which it criticizes. I guess I don’t need to bore you with how the novel seems to suck you in despite its plotlessness and how it titillates you and makes you feel like a perv for wanting to see more of Patrick Bateman’s all too-detailed gratuitous sexual violence in the pages. As they say, some things are meant to be read. Which is why so many, even critics alike were led astray by the novel’s bluntness lambasting it as trash and accusing Ellis of pornography that they actually lost track of the social critique it was meant for in the first place, like commodification and the increasing gap of social classes as a result, the rise of the urban bourgeois, the loss of identity in a seemingly economically flourishing era, etc. Psycho is set in New York and Bateman’s world is Wall St. heaven. The indestructibility and stability of Ellis’ stylishly concocted world will be comical if placed in the vulnerability of the current times. Recession and bailout, hell even sub-prime mortgage, would remotely surface in the superficial discussions of self-absorbed financial execs, Bateman et al. But even if such were discussed, as vague terms, in that particular economic pinnacle, the wide gap would have alienated the blue-collar layman from giving a flying fuck about how economic slowdown would actually allow them to live decently.

Last night, I watch the government’s economic panel sling back answers from supposed intelligible queries and stories out of these landed up on front pages of national broadsheets today. For the past few weeks, we too have been engrossed in the US economic situation attempting to make sense out of it, out of our lives as Filipino citizens (and at least for me not that successfully) but in the end, Juan dela Cruz won’t give a flying fuck (I purposely repeated those two words). John Cassidy in The New Yorker aptly puts it: “As an exercise in crisis management, it is potentially disastrous—and, to the rest of the world, dumbfounding”. But what am I really talking here anyway that none of the thinking people already know? I think it just goes to show that we are still bridging, and that’s why we don’t bridge the gap, it’s because it is always burned. In the world of American Psycho, the insignificant are further marginalized and the economically important continue to slobber with whatever there is to consume.

the audacity, period.

Barack Obama is not just a big-smiling charismatic Democrat who swayed, well, yes, the world, with such an audacious campaign right from the very moment he stood up on that Democratic convention where he first announced his desire to run for the highest seat in the land. He also happens to be the next big, best thing in American politics, so far. You can perhaps say it’s because of his unique and inspiring background, racially and yes politically. He has lived in Kenya and Indonesia and has amazing roots as community organizer. The Illinois senator has been hounded with his political inexperience, being one of the youngest and a first-term senator. But commonsensically, it’s such a flimsy argument if we’d like to see in every candidate that he’d reach 80 and see political adeptness anatomically evident. To his credit though, McCain exudes a charismatic atmosphere, in that we don’t actually get fumed as much as we see Bush. It’s just that with an unpopular war that’s not trailing off any sooner and the recent economic turmoil, he is the likely casualty of the unpopularity of his Republican predecessor.

Hope and change are such big words, audacious words. Maybe the guy is referencing to the Sam Cooke song A Change is Gonna Come which marked the historical civil rights movement, I dunno. And Barack, whose name sounds with Iraq and a surname that rhymes with that of the Al-Qaeda leader (quite an unpopular name if you think about it), not only has the courage to take up these words but he has the willpower and conviction to realize these seemingly abstract words in an American era still mired in uncertainty. Hope and change are powerful words, something where you can put intellect and brilliance to good use - and it takes audacity to realize them.

photo from Salon.com

Another threat

We maybe digging up below, underneath the Arctic seabed to be exact, not looking (and be blinded) up there where mighty Sun radiates UV rays, to find another threatening culprit to the increase in global warming.

Scientists recently discovered disturbing huge deposits of methane gas emanating from so-called "chimneys" in the Arctic region particularly in areas across the Siberian continental shelf. Increased levels of methane escaping from these "chimneys" is also connected to rising temperatures in the region, which as narrated in this article, has risen to 4C degrees for the past decades.

Picture this: if we have enough "methane chimneys" spread across the Arctic seabed, it could look like a perforated piece of styrofor, and crumbling the entire Arctic region is as easy as blowing air through these holes. Jeez.

Getty photo from dailymail.co.uk