Thursday, September 29, 2011

Let Us Put Ourselves in the Presence of the Dark Lord Cthulhu

"Jesus Fucking Christ," my friend Earl said, hitting my harm with his puny fist. "And you call yourself a worshipper?"

I was helping him bake cupcakes for the big bonfire the next day. By helping, I mean I was trying not to jizz on his batter when he stepped out to smoke.

"What," I said. "Just because I'm non-practicing doesn't mean I've lost my faith in Cthulhu."

"But this is more than being active in the cult," he insisted. "This is fighting for our faith."

He was trying to convince me to go to the bonfire where other members of our cult were going to burn copies of the new Penguins Classic print of "The Call of Cthulhu". A lot of worshipers felt offended by the depiction of Cthulhu, drawn wearing a tuxedo, a monocle, and sporting a well-combed mustache like an ordinary mortal.

Look, I see their point. I know how this depiction of the Greatest of the Elder Gods, He Who Waits And Causes The World Anxiety in His Slumber, He to Whose Sludge We Are Spawned, He Whose Almighty Tentacles Shaped the World and Shall Destroy It, could have been offensive. I imagine Saddam's children would have been offended too had their father been depicted as a soft, warm-hearted leader who ruled democratically like a shaved vagina.

Do I find this image offensive? No, BUT I can understand why some people would find it so. A lot of worshipers draw their personal strength from their faith in the great, fearless and fearsome Cthulhu. When they were starving, Cthulhu was there to give them the inspiration to sell their children to prostitution for food. When they were sick and weary, Cthulhu was there to cause them even more sickness and trouble. Indeed, there is no malaise in this world which we couldn't thank Cthulhu for. Putting that mound of pubic hair on his face is disrespectful to the great power to whose Wrath we are at the Mercy of.

Yet, we must look at the work and consider its intention before we start burning copies of the book, like in that fairy tale for children (if you haven't read "Sodom and Gomorrah" as a kid, I suggest you look for a copy now; it's an excellent, uplifting tale I first encountered when I was a 2nd Grade student in Notre Dame of Greater Manila).

Was the work meant to offend? Maybe. Or maybe it means to offend those who take Cthulhu's image lightly. Maybe it means to ask us how we've been connecting with Cthulhu lately. Maybe it means to incite us to react, stir in us reactions so strong that we would either question our faith or stand up for it.

In that sense, the work has served its purpose. As soon as the Can-toi Bishops of Cthulhu in the Philippines saw this work, they were organizing mobs and book bonfires.

But, what if we jumped the gun too soon? Was there really any harm in letting the cover art foster more discussion, provoke dialogue between those who have fallen into the cracks of disbelief and despair? Was Cthulhu's earth-shattering will ever threatened by this work?

What Would Cthulhu Do with this cover? Would he order its immediate eradication? Would he really be so petty as be affected by this?

I look at this cover, and I don't see hate for Cthulhu. Try as I may, I can't look at this artwork and see any reason to repress or suppress it. It's an artist's representation of his concept of Cthulhu, and his concept was meant to trigger reactions from the audience. Yet too soon did we deny others their right to agree or disagree with it when we decided to feed it to the Almighty Cthulhu's cleansing flame.

I may not be a practicing worshiper of Cthulhu. I haven't bled any virgins on my sheet and offered the blood to his Omni-reaching Tentacles. I can't remember the last time I beheaded an innocent, or when our family last celebrated R'lyehmas.

My faith in Cthulhu is personal. In my daily trials and tribulations, I turn to him to strike my enemies dead. When filled with envy for the success of others, I take a moment to thank Cthulhu that one of their loved ones may have mental retardation. I feel the warmth of Cthulhu's tentacles around my shoulders whenever I was feeling insecure for my failure to cause another person's complete ruin before I turn the age of thirty. And when the end comes, I believe that on Cthulhu's wings I shall soar over the razed landscape of my rival's utter destruction.

But, come on, guys. It's a fucking artwork. What harm can it do?

Thursday, September 22, 2011

On Family Reunions

"So, when are you going to get married? You're not getting any younger, you know," one of my distant aunts asked me when I was 14. 


"When are you going to have kids? Why don't you have kids?" I overheard another aunt ask one of the married couples.
I don't get why some people think they're obligated to monitor other people's life choices given what little blood you actually share with them. I have grown to realize that there are questions you don't ask people because you don't know what they're going through.

You don't ask people why they're single, or why they're still childless. Not only is it not your business, it's also a dumb question to ask unless you are really wondering about how normal people function in society. People don't ask YOU why you threw your life away and married a tricycle driver before any of you were old enough to vote. People don't ask you why your vagina never seem to dry up, constantly popping out one of your pesky kids who come to beg every Christmas.

I don't come to your face and ask you about the status of your lovelife. I just assume you don't have one, because, you know, you're ugly.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

All I Needed to Know, I Learned in ROTC

VINTAGE Siege Malvar! Check out my essay on being a Rayadillo, organizing a rebellion against a boodle fight, and coming home drunk on a Sunday morning. CLICK HERE. [Must have Acrobat Reader installed to read.]

The Incredible Siege Malvar

I have made a reputation of myself to be a fabulous confabulist that people find it hard to believe my stories even when I'm telling the truth.

"Oh, Trinoma did that, when I was performing for Valentine's Day in 2010, they had this helicopter hover above the mall to shower us with rose petals," I once informed the team I was brainstorming with. Which really happened. Trinoma had this shower of rose petals schedule for Valentine's Day, and due to some fortunate timing, I was on stage reciting my love poems when it arrived. It felt like I was on full rockstar mode, and my unemployed parents were in the audience giving their unwavering support. Unfortunately, no one bothered enough to capture the moment on digital video. I take this as a vote of confidence from my parents' part, that these magical moments of rose petals showering from the skies happen on my performances on a regular basis that it's not worth documenting.

These things happen to me, and it really is hard to prove, what with the questionable credibility of my word as the only basis for accepting it as true. Like that one time a gorgeous Korean boy dragged me into the coat's room of a hiphop club in Seoul, and started to assault my mouth with his. Based on how his saliva tasted like, I'm pretty sure he was drunk. Not exactly one to shy away from homoerotic episodes involving alcohol, the music of Jay-Z, and parkas that belong to strangers, I still had the good sense to push him away and inform him that, like him, I was a boy, but unlike him, I wasn't drunk. Perhaps it's because he spoke no word of English, and I may have mangled my Korean bad enough to actually spur him on, or the fact that I was wearing my hair long then, but my flat out refusal to play tongue futsal with him only provoked him to stab my tonsils with his tongue with renewed vigor. Like a politician  on the last quarter of his term prior to running for re-election on a mad road reconstruction frenzy, he was hell bent on his intent to restructure my oral passageway.

I gave him some time to lose steam. After all, he was drunk, he wasn't bad looking, and for the first time, I'm making out with someone who didn't need me to laugh at his jokes. I pushed him away again, this time, using my hands, I demonstrated the physical definition of what I mean as I insisted my biological make-up. "I'm a boy, look," I said, thumping my puny chest where no mammary glands grow. "A boy!" I repeated.

At this point, despite not having any success at my attempts to communicate with my apparently drunk insta-date--who, if I may add, has spent more time trying to know me than anyone I've ever gone out with ever, my charades on my reproductive system's functions seemed to have caught the attention of the bouncer. Strong, manly arms pried us apart, and began dragging my drunk face assaulter away, 20-seconds before I began considering building a life with this intoxicated stranger and his technophonic tongue. Perhaps we'd spend Friday nights watching Korean DVDs together, and I'd fall asleep on his shoulders reading the subtitle, and I'd wake up 15 minutes before the whole thing end and he'd catch me up on the plot so far, making things up as he go along, basically merging the plot of Rosemarie's Baby with Superman: The Return and an episode of The Nanny. I am a romantic that way.

Now, I'm considering writing the club management for a copy of that night's security tapes. Perhaps I could prove once and for all that I was savagely sexually assaulted by a man more good looking that I am. That way, my credibility would be improved, and I wouldn't have a hard time convincing people that I really was part of my university's marching platoon.

"Seriously, guys, I was a rayadillo," I insisted for what felt like the 35th time that night.

What was infuriating was that no one was contesting anymore.

Which gave me this crazy idea of a tell-all memoir. What if I come up with a collection of stories that REALLY happened to me, but no one would believe to be true? What if?

What do you think? Should I go for it?

Friday, September 16, 2011

Straight Boy Translator

My gay friend is having trouble with his straight boyfriend. Turns out, more than the vicious cycle of constantly passing the clap to each other, they're also having problems communicating. Brian talks swardspeak, and Owen speaks straight.

So, in an effort to help them out, I'm posting these frequently used words that might help them communicate on a more common ground.

"Pare, Dude, Tol, Brod, Bro" = "Teh, Vakluh, Neng, Bro"

Straight: "Bro, wag ka nang malungkot, pare."

Gay: "Teh, wa-i ka nang krayola dyaanchi, neng."
Discreet Top: "Girl, wag ka nang mag-cry, bro.

"SHIT" = "KEMERLOU, KEMBULAR, KEME-" 

Use this as a filler for words that fall in between the cracks of language. When you're lost for words, use a filler. Regular people would use "ano".

Gay: "Mga kemerlou mo nagkalat sa kembular sa dami mong keme. Kung ano anong kemer-kemerlou kasi ang kakembularan mo eh!"

Straight: "Mga shit mo nagkalat sa shit sa dami mong shit. Kung ano-anong shit kasi ang ka-shit-an mo eh!"


"WILD" = "NAKAKALURKEY"

Straight: "Wild shit, pare!"

Gay: "Nakakaloka mga kemerlane, teh!"

"TUITION" - "iPhone"

Gay: "O, beh, eto na pang-Tuition mo."

Straight: "Pare, nakadelihensya ako ng pang-iPhone!"

"School Project" - "Rubber Shoes"

Gay: "Sige, kumuha ka na lang dyan ng pang School Project mo."

Straight: "Ayuz nga eh, mura ko lang nakuha tong Rubber Shoes ko."

"Medical Bills ni Mommy" - "Cellphone"

Gay: "O sige beh, hayaan mo, gagawan ko ng paraan ang medical bills ng mommy mo."

Straight: "Ayos tong bago kong cellphone, may apps na Twitter."

Any suggestions, Dear Readers?


Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Siege Malvar Presents

Gusto ko maging showrunner tapos mag-aadapt ako ng mga shows from abroad into local setting tipong

Lesbian porn medieval fantasy... "Game of Tungs"

Tapos mga JeJeMon na natuyo ang utak sa kakalaro ng DotA... "The Walking Dedz"

Tsaka yung mga  baklang tago sa isang ad agency sa Makati... "Mad Mhin"

#random #shit

Ang Bagong Batman

May proposal ako, bagong pa-uso. Sawa na kasi ako sa "Bahala na si Batman." Well, kung di nyo alam kung saan galing yung phrase na yun, it's because Batman is Crazy Prepared in his previous storylines that whatever batshit he throws (like, shooting a Robin or liquidating the entire Wayne estate to hold a hostile take-over of an entire government) you know that he's up to something, and in the end, it will work out. Kasi si Batman yun, siya na bahala, may plan si Batman.

Anyway, naisip ko lang kanina, ipa-uso yung instead of saying "bahala na si Batman", sabihin na lang natin na "Bahala na ang pangakong pagbabago ni Noynoy." Mas poetic lang.

Application in real life:

"Tsong, pano kung ma-late tayo sa meeting? Malaking account yun, gago!"

Reply: Ewan tsong, bahala na ang pangakong pagbabago ni Noynoy.

"Anong gagawin mo pag nalaman ng misis mo na may AIDS ka galing sa katulong nyo?"

Reply: Siguro, bahala na ang pangakong pagbabago ni Noynoy.

So yun. Facing insurmountable odds, we should appeal to a higher power, and trust... manalig... magtiwala... na bahala na ang pangakong pagbabago ni Noynoy.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

VISPRINT TO HOLD EVENT FOR READERS AT SMX, MALL OF ASIA


Publisher of popular local titles to hold an event for its readers featuring book creators in a one-day-only affair at the SMX Convention Center, Mall of Asia.

VISPRINT, publisher of popular book titles in the Philippines, is going to hold a one-day-only event for its readers on Saturday, September 10, 2011. The event, dubbed as VISPRINT WIT: WRITERS IN TALK will feature book creators—authors, illustrators, and all sorts of storytellers—engaging readers in dialogues throughout the day.

“We’re really happy to be doing this. Our readers have been asking for this for a long time now, so we’re giving them what they want,” says Nida Gatus-Ramirez, Publishing Manager of Visprint. “Our books creators will be holding workshops, and they’ll be around the whole day to sign books and chat with their readers.”

Every title from the Visprint catalogue will be on sale at the event at discounted prices. An upcoming title, “DUMOT” will be on sale at limited stocks before it hits the bookstores nationwide. Exclusive previews of upcoming titles (such as the much-awaited sequel to Carlo Vergara’s ZsaZsa Zaturrna graphic novel, and the 4th TRESE book) will also be on site.

Bob Ong, the publishing house’s bestselling author, is running a social experiment called, well, “Bob Ong’s Sowsyal Eksperiment”. Guests are invited to leave a gift and take one with them. Any gift, any cost, any size. Bob Ong also ran a contest challenging readers to match 9 anonymous facts about 9 authors from Visprint... prompting readers to speculate that the elusive Bob Ong is about to release his 9th book on the day of the event.

VISPRINT WIT: Writers in Talk will be held at the SMX Convention Center in SM Mall of Asia, Meeting Rooms 7, 8, and 9, on Saturday, September 10, 2011. For more details, visit http://www.Visprint.net


About VISPRINT: Visprint is the publisher of several bestselling local titles. Their catalogue includes novels, graphic novels, collections of essays, non-fiction, comic strip collections, and an award-winning title from Alan Navarra that defies all known categories except that it’s a damn good one.

Some of their titles have been translated into other media, including a musical, movies, and a short film. These are: Ang Kagilagilalas na Pakikipagsapalaran ni ZsaZsa Zaturrnah, Ligo Na U Lapit Na Me, and TRESE.

VISPRINT WIT: Writers in Talk is the first of an annual celebration that aims to bring readers closer to their favorite authors. For a complete listing and schedule of the workshops/discussions, visit their website. http://www.Visprint.net