Hey, Bank of the Philippine Islands and Metrobank! Not to be miserly or anything, but the P100 service charge you take from my account for a P200 withdrawal better include some sort of sensual massage.
Unless you have tiny mice who run at supersonic speed to get my money from the bank where I actually keep my money, and then just as quickly run back to give me the cash, I don’t see what service I’m paying for. The service of being robbed by a faceless corporate entity, probably.
In my mind, this is pretty much the creative process of ANC’s show, Storyline:
Producer: Intern, choose a random word from the dictionary, find three people who embody it somehow and meet me in the editing room in five minutes.
Intern: How random a word is random? What if I come up with ‘aardvark?’ How do I determine the relation of signifier to significant in a world of arbitrary meaning? Producer? Producer?! AWWW, HERE IT GOES!
There is probably more to it than that, and they probably have more than one intern, but I always get the impression that Merriam-Webster and an address book play a large part in their brainstorming.
The show has been getting rave reviews (based on its TV ad, at least,) so maybe the whole let’s get people we can shoehorn into neat little one-word categories to talk about themselves approach works. Getting former armed forces chief Senator Rodolfo Biazon to talk about manliness, for example. Or “veteran journalist Vergel Santos, sex therapist and clinical psychologist Margie Holmes, and Fr. Mike Paez, a parish priest with a colorful past” for a show with the theme Freedom.
The show does tend to be cheesy, though. They once did an interview with former child prodigy Shaira Luna (she just grew up, she didn’t get dumb all of a sudden or anything) and how she dealt with a world that expected much of her. As naturally as the sun is at the center of our solar system, Ms. Luna decided to follow her passion instead of a career in the academe that wonder milk Promil prepared her for. In the last scene, an old photo of her as a child is burned on camera to reveal the “real” her in the background. It was cheesy as hell and left me emotionally scarred for life. Maybe the theme of the show was cheese.
Storyline is set to break new ground with its “Bayan Ko” episode featuring Ka Freddie Aguilar, though. Two words, and they aren’t even English ones.
It's true: Interns love orange soda.
With at least half of the posts on Sen. Manuel Villar, Jr.’s pre-campaign campaign website blatantly singing him praises, there really is one logical conclusion to make.
Of course, there are also legitimate posts on his website. Like this one that reduced me to inconsolable weeping :
As always, the comment thread is open for your own Maling Akala.
Every weekend, Indolent Indio comes out with a short and hastily-done roundup of things we’ve found on the Internet (pinoy chapter, of course.)
Quality, quantity and content may vary.
Brought to you in part by C.P. Garcia Fine Fashion
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Group pickets outside Belo Medical Group clinic over botched butt job.
Free as in speech: Actual cost of that “free” iPhone from Globe Telecoms could reach up to P119,976.
Our Awesome Planet seeks out the origin of Lechon Bread: bread in the shape of a roast pig (but still bread.)
Sort of related: a defunct blog reminisces on Orange Swits.
Elsewhere in fun food, chipper cupcakes. Fist-sized orgasms for your mouth.
Batang Baler mourns the commodification of Baler, Aurora in the form of “pirated” inauthentic statement shirts: “If you buy this shirt, you’re probably gay and not from Baler.”
Japanese fast-food joint Teriyaki Boy talks down to Chicken Mafia’s Joyful Chicken: “Puro hilaw po yun. Okey lang?” (“It’s all raw. Is that okay?”)
(On a personal note, my girlfriend and I have shunned TB after their Gateway branch poisoned us with bad sushi.)
Blatant mining of the ’90s gangster in an Impala trope aside, this video by Dcoy feat.Artstrong & Luke Mejares is, as they say, hella tight. Uh…
The Siege Malvar’s How To Put Make Up on Dead People. Big Band and blush-on. God…damn. Not sure if trap.
Humanap ka ng Pundit: Joey De Venecia calls House Speaker Prospero Nograles a “leadership totally out of touch with the will of the people.” Because, you know, his dad was never the president’s lackey.
For every Chip Tsao, Alec Baldwin and Roger Ebert, there are thousands of Filipinos ready to burn down the Internet over the slightest perceived slur against our Strong Republic.
To save time and effort on online message boards, Mcoy came up with this:
Here’s looking at you, Roilo Golez. Which is not so say that patriotism is for jackasses, so use judiciously. Which can also be said of patriotism itself.
Sadly, this is no more absurd than the thinly-veiled “advocacy ads” that our presumptive presidential candidates have been spending millions on months before the official campaign period.
Pres. Quezon actually did endorse Ang Tibay shoes, if memory serves. But, you know, those were shoes, not abstracts like hard work and perseverance.
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Enraged by early campaigning and/or our mediocre Photoshop skills? Feel free to make your own political ads and post them below. Or not. It’s up to you, really.
Judging from the drug cartels that have allegedly infiltrated show business circles and the recent nationwide drug testing in schools, the Philippines must be awash in narcotics of all kinds.
Things were not always this way, though. Back when all the addicts had to go on were meth and marijuana, people went to great lengths to get high. High enough to believe that totally non-narcotic products could give them some sort of buzz, at least.
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“Say Chiz” was the corny slogan used by Sen. Francis Escudero in his successful 2007 senatorial campaign.
He has since been climbing to the top of popularity surveys and could very well be the next president of the Philippines, partly because he gives good sound bites.
If you think about it, though, “Say Chiz” might be more aptly replaced with “say what?,” which is the thinking person’s reaction to hearing him on the news.
If there’s one thing that characterized a ’90s childhood, it was lies. In an age before Google could pretty much debunk any false claim, kids took turns one-upping each other’s bullshit just to seem cooler, richer, or both, than everyone else in school.
Of course, the advent of the Internet made our teenage years even doubly angst-ridden. Not only did we have to contend with hormones and crippling insecurity, we had to find out that our classmate did not really see the Gokongwei snake-child lurking in the basement of Robinson’s Galleria.
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We at Indolent Indio try our best to respond to your comments because we care about you. It somehow makes us feel that we help make the cold and impersonal wasteland that is the Internet a little less so.
So, when Indolent reader Kathrina left a comment praising Biogesic for Kids, we felt that it was our duty to share how this wonder drug has changed our lives for the better. If we save just one child from fever by spreading the word, then our lives will have been well spent.
After all, that’s what the Internet should be about: helping people.
What about you, dear reader? Share with us how Biogesic for Kids made your life better.
Paracetamol and Fragments of the True Cross is the Generic Name of Biogesic for Kids