tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-102030302024-03-07T16:20:13.976-08:00The TantrumJim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.comBlogger322125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-51598225408854199352018-06-06T03:31:00.000-07:002018-06-06T20:12:31.566-07:00ShameRecently, I almost figured in a head-on collision with a car that was driving the wrong way. It wouldn't have been a high-speed collision; I was simply going through the drive-thru at KFC along Banawe, rounding the corner to the payment window when a vehicle that had entered the pathway clearly marked "Exit Only" abruptly emerged and almost hit me. Seething, I moved to get down and give the driver a piece of my mind, when my wife calmed me down. Our food, as it turned out, would take a while to prepare so I had to park the car, whereupon my wife took the opportunity to get down and talk to the owners of the car, who weren't even patrons of KFC but who, in fact, walked into a nearby bank.<br />
<br />
She came out of the bank, and narrated that she had very politely pointed out to them that they had driven the wrong way and had almost caused an accident. The couple were all apologies, with the lone exception of the wife offering the explanation that a kid hawking tint (of which there are many along Banawe) had told them they could go in there, thereby bestowing on him some form of authority. Confronted with what they'd done, though, they knew they were wrong and straight-up apologized, without self-righteous posturing or deflection. Nope, they just plain old apologized, though I suppose it helped that my wife introduced herself as a lawyer. All's well that ends well, and while I would have personally liked to have seen the look on the couple's face, I was satisfied with my wife's recollection of events, and with the knowledge that these people had felt shame for what they had done. They had no doubt known they were in the wrong, but I think they simply thought they could get away with it, and that no one would call them out. It was utterly gratifying that someone did.<br />
<br />
That's what's sorely lacking these days in many sectors of society: a sense of shame. <br />
<br />
We haven't yet devolved to the point where we can no longer tell right from wrong. That'll take a while, really, considering we are a nation of laws several years in the making, not to mention we are a nation chock full of religions, whether it's Roman Catholicism, Islam, or even our indigenous, pre-colonial belief systems. It'll take a while for us to discard hundreds of years of indoctrination, though it appears we're well on our way towards doing exactly that. One thing that could and should keep us from getting there is a healthy sense of accountability, which, on a more primal level, means a healthy sense of shame.<br />
<br />
Even without the burden of punishment, we should be able appreciate which of our actions can upset the system that is supposed to work for our collective benefit and we should be able to feel bad about doing them. Theoretically, the prospect of feeling shame, apart from the prospect of suffering punishment, should be enough to prevent us from doing wrong, and for some of us, it is enough. For that man and his wife who almost drove right into us, it was enough. <br />
<br />
Perhaps it's worth noting, though, that rather than confront the man with proverbial guns blazing, my wife spoke civilly, with a matter-of-fact and authoritative tone. Based on my experience, I suspect that anything more confrontational would have provoked an argument, and the man and his wife, however clearly in the wrong, would not have backed down. It's impossible to say, really, but what matters is that the best possible outcome happened: the man who had done wrong felt shame. He didn't owe us money, given that no damage had been done, but he needed to be confronted with the fact that he was in the wrong, and, more importantly, to <i>feel</i> it, which he did.<br />
<br />
"Walang hiya" isn't just a popular idiom; it's a deeply disturbing state of mind which has gripped far too many people today. It denotes the absolute inability to even fathom the consequences of doing something completely wrong, or mind-numbingly stupid, which is the only way to describe that driver's actions that day as well as so...many...things that we see happening around us every day. The ability to feel shame (and I mean real, honest-to-God shame not the bastardized "hiya" that passes for shame in this country, which usually involves sweeping wrongdoing under the rug) is the beginning of contrition, and the end of wrongdoing.<br />
<br />
So it filled me with some hope to encounter at least ONE person in this country, who, when caught being a complete, incontrovertible ***hole, was capable of feeling shame.<br />
<br />
I choose to believe that there is still hope for the rest of us. <br />
<br />
<br />
Well, most of the rest of us, anyway...<br />
Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-27439768535658095782016-09-19T04:57:00.001-07:002016-09-19T05:02:27.910-07:00Motorized Mayhem: Three Facets of Our Collective Lack of DisciplineI have known how to drive a car since 1992. That's twenty-four years, and even longer than some of my current co-workers have been alive. I have spent the entirety of that time driving through the streets of the Philippines, and the bulk of that time driving through the streets of Metro Manila. I am generally a fairly disciplined driver, as self-serving as that may sound, and I know how to stay out of trouble as a general rule. I consider my observations here, therefore, reasonably supported by my own experience as both a driver and a passenger on public transport.<br />
<br />
This is not the first time I've written about traffic; I had quite a bit to say about a fairly specific stretch of Commonwealth Avenue in Quezon City right <a href="http://tantrumjim.blogspot.com/2013/01/microcosm.html">here</a>. I think everything I said about the real (or at least the main) problem behind traffic at that stretch of Commonwealth may easily be applied to the rest of Metro Manila. That said, I want to add a little value to this diatribe to somehow distinguish it from what I've written before, and from what's no doubt floating out there on the internet. It's a little trite at this point to lament that traffic is bad because people have no discipline; I think anyone who has half a brain and isn't living in some state of heightened denial knows that at this point. I'm going to try to be a little more specific; I've identified three aspects of our general lack of discipline as drivers that are the most problematic, in ascending order:<br />
<br />
3. Dogpiling, or "Monkey See, Monkey Do"<br />
<br />
I am going to be embarrassingly honest here; on more than one occasion, I have joined a procession of counterflowing cars because I have seen how much more quickly the people in that procession get to their destination than I do. I rarely succumb to the temptation to do so these days, but I have done it and, if my need is dire enough, I could see myself doing it again, unless meaningful enforcement kicks in.<br />
<br />
Simply put, dogpiling (as I define it here) is when one motorist's disregard of traffic laws, motorist etiquette and basic human decency gains him or her such a glaring advantage over the law-abiding motorists, most of whom have usually been sitting, frustrated, in traffic for some time, that these hapless motorists cannot help but follow suit, thus worsening the traffic exponentially. There are no doubt thousands of pictures or videos on social media that capture this phenomenon more accurately than my description ever could, and I wouldn't be surprised if, among the people reading this I have sparked recollections of what it's like to experience something like this, especially when one is the motorist who actually stays put because that's what the rules are, clinging to the unfortunate delusion that in that situation, the rules actually mean anything. <br />
<br />
Yes, I have done it, and yes, I have been part of the problem, but I never want to be again. And the rest of us shouldn't be either.<br />
<br />
2. "The Rules Only Apply to Other People" <br />
<br />
This can actually be a very lengthy blog post, or hell, even a doctoral dissertation all on its own, as the thesis of a discussion of what's wrong with the world in general, but for purposes of this discussion suffice it to say that our traffic woes begin when one motorist, public or private, decides that the rules don't apply to them. Construction on the road results in limited lanes and a long line, and someone in the back decides "screw this, I'm too important to wait" and decides to counterflow. <br />
<br />
There is a horrifying video on youtube in which a driver, tired of enduring a traffic bottleneck, takes matters into his own hands and overtakes, even in the presence of the double solid lines, which is a distinct no-no. He collides head-on with an oncoming motorcycle, with the driver doing a full-on somersault onto the asphalt. More recently, a motorcycle driven by a drunken woman with two passengers decided to counterflow and collided with a jeepney along a blind curve, with predictable results. <br />
<br />
Laws, rules and road etiquette, the way I see it, feel abstract to many Filipino motorists, especially considering that, as my father once said, most Filipino motorists don't really know how to drive so much as how to operate a vehicle. Concepts like "zippering" or flashing lights to let the other guy go through and other nuances of polite driving are largely lost on many of our motorists, and it's worth pointing out that this is not a function of socio-economic status. I've seen plenty of drivers in expensive SUVs drive like complete pricks and have seen taxi drivers drive like complete gentlemen. (UV Express, tricycle and "kuliglig" drivers seem to have been uniformly spawned in a special corner of Hell, though).<br />
<br />
The thing is, one of the reasons why laws and rules remain abstract until someone's bones get shattered in a collision is...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
1. IMPUNITY <br />
<br />
I realize, as someone who has done and continues to do a lot of human-rights related work, that the word "impunity" is most often associated with state-sponsored acts of terrorism like extra-judicial killing, torture and enforced disappearance. However, the Merriam-Webster online dictionary simply defines the word as "exemption or freedom from punishment, harm or loss" which makes it an apt description for the situation on the road given that many blatant violators of traffic laws often go their merry way, completely unscathed. <br />
<br />
I do not envy traffic enforcers; even the most dedicated, competent ones face a considerable challenge when apprehending errant motorists, as a recent online fiasco showed when a "Grabcar" passenger tried to shame a traffic enforcer for pulling over her driver by putting his picture online. A look at the CCTV readily revealed, however, that the driver was, in fact, in violation of the law and that he had rightly been pulled over by the enforcer. This is but one example of the kind of difficulty they can face; they can be beaten or verbally abused by angry drivers (this has happened) or even dragged along by other motorists (this has also happened) for simply doing their jobs. Some of them are abusive, to be sure, but others really try to enforce discipline, and are rewarded with scorn, shame and pain for their efforts. To top it off, none of them makes a whole lot of money for doing what they do. <br />
<br />
Not only that, but often there's strength in numbers. Traffic aides try to dissuade, or to apprehend as many violators as they can at a certain intersection or, for me the most dramatic example, on Commonwealth Avenue, but in accordance with Rule #2, until a person gets caught, they don't ever believe they will, and as a result plenty of emboldened violators slip through the dragnet. <br />
<br />
There have been plenty of good ideas going around regarding enforcement, like the closed-circuit television cameras that exonerated the enforcer wrongly accused of being a dick to the "grab" driver, and the notion of "contact-free apprehension" which means that cameras simply capture the plates of the offending vehicles, whose registered owners will feel the sting when the time comes to register their vehicles again, if not sooner. The important thing, ultimately, is punishing the offenders, and making them feel the inconvenience of having to pay a fine, especially if they get higher with each violation. This should especially hold true for PUV drivers, whether they be drivers of buses, vans, taxicabs, or my very personal favorite bane of the road, tricycles and their "poorer" cousins, the "kuligligs." The consequences for these individuals should the operators catch wind of the penalties will be very real, and could be very persuasive should they think of counterflowing again.<br />
<br />
Ultimately it should be impressed on everyone on our roads, whether drivers of private or public vehicles, that the rules apply to everyone. It can be done; normally "barumbado" drivers suddenly turn meek as mice in Subic because they know the rules are enforced there.<br />
<br />
There just has to be the right combination of enforcement and compliance here.<br />
<br />
Road discipline isn't "someone else's problem." It's everyone's. <br />
<br />
Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-64184693868566588602015-03-19T03:44:00.001-07:002015-05-25T19:08:00.444-07:00A Brush with DeathI really like to eat. Not only that, but I quite like to try new things when I do.<br />
<br />
It peeved me, as a result, when nearly ten years ago I experienced a rather violent food allergy to either crab fat pasta or fern salad, the only two "new" things I tried that night. I was rushed to the emergency room that night, and fortunately, was able to get timely treatment, which involved injections of steroids and other drugs that I had not only never had introduced into my system, but which I had avoided like the plague.<br />
<br />
It was a life-changing experience, that, and not in a good way. I had already gotten to the age where I would have to watch how much I would eat, but now it became important to watch what I ate, as well. The good news was that I was not hit with another attack for several more years (at last three), and it was similarly unpleasant; it involved driving myself to the emergency room and sleeping in an office in the hospital (as all the beds in the ward were full) after my horse tranquilizer of an antihistamine put me out for about four hours or so.<br />
<br />
The third attack was particularly bothersome; I experienced a violent reaction to some whole wheat pancakes with strawberry syrup, and just as I was about to board a flight for Tacloban City. What bothered me was not so much the discomfort I felt as a result of the attack but the fact that the medical staff at the airport (NAIA-3, for anyone who's curious) were at a near-complete loss as to what to do. I was the one who had to tell them to shoot me up with epinephrine. I eventually received proper medical at a clinic on top of SM Megamall. It's fortunate that my attack then was not as severe as the one that followed, years later.<br />
<br />
I haven't, unfortunately, quite narrowed down what it is that gives me food allergy, and unfortunately, this has caused me to be a lot more selective about what I eat than I would like. My menu for the last several years can basically be reduced to less than two dozen different kinds of food. Last year, on a trip to Bangkok, I wanted dearly to try some deep fried locusts, but I didn't dare, as I wasn't keen on dying for it.<br />
<br />
Flash forward to yesterday morning. Before I woke up, I dreamed about Jay Tan, a dear, dear friend of mine who passed away at 32, from complications related to a kidney transplant. I rarely ever dream about him anymore, and every time I do, it feels like a vaguely bittersweet thing, especially since, most of the time he just stands around and smiles, even when I try to talk to him.<br />
<br />
I woke up from the dream, and had a breakfast consisting of a new brand of chocolate chip pancakes (Krusteaz, if anyone is curious, which I only bought because my previous brand, Pilsbury, has apparently stopped making them) I had just bought from the grocery store over the weekend. My daughter, who had gotten up earlier than everyone else because of her how early her school bus picks her up, was complaining that her chest hurt and that she could not breathe. I thought that she had simply contracted a virus that was basically going around the house from my wife, and told her she could stay home from school. <br />
<br />
After finishing the first piece, I began sneezing and coughing, and felt a distinct, sharp pain in my chest. I thought, then that I had caught the bug myself, and I popped some vitamin C and a flu pill. Within minutes it became exponentially harder to breathe, and my eyes began to swell, and it was then that I realized that this was no bug; this was my first food allergy attack in almost three years.<br />
<br />
My presence of mind helped; my wife and sister-in-law rushed me to the nearest hospital, and no sooner had I set foot in the emergency room than I started to projectile vomit. I made alternate trips between the sink and their (mercifully clean) toilet. The doctor, unlike the poor excuses for professionals at the airport, were quite prompt in taking action, even as I was starting to writhe in pain from my stomach aches. This was a particularly violent attack. But that wasn't what was bothering me.<br />
<br />
What bothered me was the dream. <br />
<br />
I was terrified, in that moment, that Jay had come to pick me up and take me home, or "sundo" as the vernacular goes. All of my closest relatives are still alive, and I was never particularly close to my grandparents, but this guy I loved like a brother. And so it stood to reason that, at this point in my life, if anyone was to "fetch" me from this mortal coil, it would be him.<br />
<br />
And, as far as I can remember, for the first time in my nearly forty years of existence, I shouted, out loud, in the emergency room, "I want to live! I don't want to die yet!" It felt distinctly ridiculous as soon as I said it, even though at the time the doctor and nurses were elsewhere and didn't hear me. <br />
<br />
Well, obviously it all worked out and here I still am, though, like before, I was pumped with copious amounts of steroids, as a result of which I am now required to "taper off" for a few days, and I was given, yet again, what felt like horse tranquilizers as they kept me knocked out the whole day.<br />
<br />
There's no moral to this story, really, or any earth-shaking realizations about the human condition, but I found it funny that, after all I've seen and even been through in this life, I could still be as terrified as I was yesterday morning, sitting on a hospital gurney, because of some lousy pancakes.<br />
<br />
My daughter, who also went to the E.R. with me, is fine, by the way. They just gave her a pill and she was fine. Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-16412815876762890512014-04-25T16:37:00.001-07:002014-04-25T16:37:12.885-07:00Reading in TerminalsI've never been the most voracious reader I know; I used to be a fan of Stephen King and for a brief period spanning the late 80s to the mid 1990s I kept abreast of many, if not most of his latest novels. After that it was the odd John Irving or Umberto Eco novel. I've also read most of the Conan-Doyle-written Sherlock Holmes short stories and books, and a number of Neil Gaiman's novels, even the ones that don't come with pretty pictures. <br />
<br />
In the last decade or so, however, I have found it increasingly harder to sit through books that are more than three hundred pages long and with small font. Maybe it's because my nearly forty-year old eyes struggle with the tiny letters, or because I just didn't feel I had enough time, but soon I felt I only had time to sit through comic books or compilations, and even then, not too many of those. <br />
<br />
That changed, however, thanks to a series of marathon travels by airplane.<br />
<br />
It used to be that some of the most mind-numbing time I would ever spend
would be the time I would spend waiting for a flight. For several years
now I have been flying from Manila to some far-flung province for work,
and more than a few of those flights have been early morning trips,
some of them even red-eyes. It was invariably hard to catch up on the
sleep I'd lose having to get up at an odd hour of the morning; if I
wasn't stymied by the fact that, in waking up I had shocked my system
too much for it to settle back down into sleep again, I was dissuaded by
the paranoia that someone could lift my things off me while I was in
dreamland. During early morning flights I always caught up on lost sleep
while on the plane, and not a moment before. Most of the time, I'd
travel alone, with no one to talk to, and while I would sometimes surf
the internet or play a handheld video game, it just wasn't that
engaging.<br />
<br />
But soon I found that books were the perfect antidote to the dreary, half-awake downtime I would spend waiting for flights. I finished <i>The Lovely Bones</i> and <i>The Life of Pi</i> in between flights, the latter of which I actually bought more than a year ago but could never find the time to read. Because I am a slow reader, it becomes that much easier to eat up the two or three hours I spend waiting for the plane to arrive, get ready and accept passengers. Flight delays, of which I have experienced many both coming and going (but usually going), have become a welcome development because of the additional time I get to read. <br />
<br />
Waiting for anything is a trying experience, especially when done without adequate sleep, but now that I've figured out how to combat the boredom it's no longer an issue.<br />
<br />
The funny thing is, it's been a month since I've traveled anywhere by plane, and suddenly I find myself unable to sit down and read books again. Maybe I can only read in the spaces between travel.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-81959514325613209652014-03-24T06:30:00.001-07:002014-03-25T18:51:52.846-07:00Heck of a DayThis will be my first blog post in a while in which I just recount the events of the day past, and in a fairly sketchy manner as well.<br />
<br />
Today I nearly missed a flight, but was able through a lot of cell phone calls and more than a few useful connections to catch it. It was a terrifying experience, sitting through traffic watching the clock tick right in front of me, wanting basically to drive through all of the people sitting still and the lights that were "inconsiderate" enough to stay red when I needed to go. I didn't even have time to park; I basically entrusted the car to someone I had never even met before. I dashed past the gates and didn't even get searched, and made a 100-yard dash to the airplane from the entrance, misjudging my speed and having to ram into the flipping fuselage to stop myself.<br />
<br />
I boarded a plane literally five minute before it was scheduled to take off, and am pretty sure I pissed off everyone on the plane, from the passengers to the flight crew. I might have heard an American passenger make a crack about me, but I wasn't sure; I was too frazzled from the whole experience to really take anything in, and I slept through most of the flight thanks to my exhaustion. I did notice, however, that the staff did not serve me any complimentary snacks, and I cannot help but wonder if that was deliberate, though one flight attendant gave me a cup of water and a refill. <br />
<br />
I made it to my activity in Mindanao, and as fortunate enough both that the affair had started late and that one of my bosses who would be dropping by to "audit" me hadn't made the trip.<br />
<br />
All's well that ends well, in short, but it could not have been cut any closer.<br />
<br />
Here's hoping for a more relaxed day tomorrow. <br />
<br />
What a day.Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-60718837602049350092014-02-05T06:02:00.002-08:002014-02-09T17:34:53.444-08:00In The Courtroom<br />
Whatever my or anyone else's opinion of the relative merits of the work of American filmmaker Woody Allen and Filipino comedian Vhong Navarro may be, however, the fact remains that both men have recently been accused of sexual assault. Navarro has been accused by a woman with whom he apparently had a romantic tryst, one which ended with him getting beaten to within an inch of his life by the woman's apparent lover and his friends, and Allen has been accused by a woman who, at the time of the incident, actually recognized him as her father.<br />
<br />
The similarity between the two ends there.<br />
<br />
Allen's case, if historical reports are to be believed, is a regrettable example of the American justice system failing a victim of child sexual abuse. When the alleged sexual abuse occurred in the 1990s, the victim, then-seven-year-old Dylan Farrow immediately confided in her mother and Allen's lover at the time, Mia Farrow, who went to the extent of capturing her statement on video and attempting to file charges. Nothing came of those charges, however, because the prosecutor assisting them apparently decided not to push through with the case. To put it differently, Dylan Farrow never got her day in court, and neither, for that matter, did Allen. With the statute of limitations long having lapsed on any possible criminal case against Allen, Farrow has no other recourse but to discuss her supposed ordeal, which she did in an <a href="http://kristof.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/02/01/an-open-letter-from-dylan-farrow/?_php=true&_type=blogs&_r=0">open letter</a> which was recently published.<br />
<br />
In contrast, the controversy involving Navarro has already been brought to the appropriate venue, with Navarro suing the alleged victim, Deniece Cornejo and the men who beat him up, and Cornejo having sued him for rape. Since then, both parties have been widely exposed in the media, conspicuously trying to sell to the public the merits of their claims and quite shamelessly attempting to have this case tried in the court of public opinion. I was particularly irked by Cornejo's appearance on a talk show, tears on display, discussing her grievance instead of letting her lawyer handle everything by taking the matter where it firmly belongs: the justice system. Navarro's camp has been a bit more proactive on the legal front, having filed criminal complaints on his behalf against his supposed aggressors, but the attempts to influence public opinion on this case in his favor are still patent, judging by the grossly disproportionate airtime and bandwidth that have been devoted by his home network (and other networks, as a result) to this story. These efforts appear to be at least partially successful as one online survey has most respondents believing Navarro's version of the events, as if the parties' guilt or innocence is decided on the internet.<br />
<br />
Dylan Farrow was unable to obtain relief from her country's justice system, and so she did the only thing she could. Conversely, Allen, who has not been and is not being tried in a court of law, can only respond in the same way in which he is being accused, through media and attempts to influence public perception.<br />
<br />
Cornejo and Navarro have the benefit of a trial system now working for them, not to mention an assemblage of lawyers ready to do their bidding. Why they would choose the tri-media and social media as their battleground, considering that neither of these can put anyone in jail or adjudge anyone liable to pay financial compensation? I would hazard a guess that it is because in a court of law they would have to face the whole ugly truth, not all of which may be to either party's liking. And so they give their own airbrushed accounts of what happened to the public. <br />
<br />
The problem with attempting to try a criminal case outside a courtroom is that it can result in utter disaster for the actual court case. One need only refer to the infamous Vizconde massacre, which resulted in the incarceration of Hubert Webb and several of his friends for over a decade and a half, their eventual acquittal, and an ultimately unsolved multiple murder. That case, which involved a truly grisly crime and not some sordid he-said-she-said affair, was one of the most highly publicized in the last twenty five years or so, but one thing I distinctly remember about the reports that circulated in the media in the 1990s was the general sentiment they pushed and eventually generated that Hubert Webb was as guilty as sin. Apparently, the prosecutors and investigators handling the case believed in Webb's guilt beyond reasonable doubt as well, so much so that they didn't bother to build an airtight case against him, instead relying almost solely on the testimony of a "star witness" who turned out to be a drug-addled dud. The worst part of it was that nobody won that case, least of all lady justice. If Webb and his cohorts had, indeed, committed the crime with which they were charged, they should still be in jail right now. If they had not, they should not have spent a moment in jail, let alone fifteen years, which they will never get back. Either way, the perpetrators of the massacre, are free as birds even after the mass media had conditioned most people's minds that the perpetrators had been caught, tried and convicted. <br />
<br />
If the people involved in this case really want justice, they should keep whatever it is they have to say where it belongs: in court.<br />
<br />Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-74064288588635350072013-07-03T06:33:00.000-07:002013-10-08T01:37:23.704-07:00Book Review: Altar of Secrets: Sex, Politics and Money in the Philippine Catholic ChurchAll hyperbole aside, the recently-released book, <i>Altar of Secrets: Sex, Politics and Money in the Philippine Catholic Church</i>, should be an extremely important piece of investigative journalism. In its pages, longtime Church-beat journalist Aries C. Rufo lays bare some of the best-guarded and most downright scandalous secrets of one of the oldest existing organizations in the country, the Catholic Church of the Philippines, revelations which touch on ultra-sensitive topics such as sexual indiscretions and financial mismanagement, among others.<br />
<br />
This compilation of reports is no string of blind items, either; Rufo gives very specific names, and dates and places, and whenever possible, his sources as well. From disclosing the sexual improprieties of Bishops of Dioceses in Makati and Malolos to the financial depredations of Bishops responsible for large amounts of money, to allegations of corruption that go all the way up to the top, both of the Church and the Philippine government, Rufo pulls no punches whatsoever, and does not hesitate to point out the irony inherent to the Church's excoriation of corruption among government officials while it remains distressingly tolerant of similar, if not even more reprehensible practices among its own ranks. <br />
<br />
The book is told through a series of anecdotes regarding various parishes and Church offices, starting with the sexual controversies, following it with the financial scandals and the political scandals, and almost finishing off with a "best practices" anecdotal discussion on how cooperation between the Church and the government can actually work for the betterment of the public, and ending the main discussion with a chapter on how a bishop falsely accuses a nun of theft.<br />
<br />
The book is a relatively slim volume, with only about 182 pages of
content with the remainder disclosing Rufo's bibliography, which
consists largely of his own work, but Rufo's anecdotes are well-chosen
in terms of impact and relevance. However, it is precisely because the subject matter of this book is as important as it is to Philippine society that I cannot help but be particularly harsh on the manner in which it is presented.<br />
<br />
Rufo's biggest problem in unveiling his stories is that for all of his declarations, and those of Rappler Chief Marites Danguilen Vitug to the contrary, the book reads, in many instances, very much like the demolition job of the Catholic Church that this book's detractors will no doubt claim it is. A lot of the stories in his accounts explicitly named eyewitnesses, including, in some instances, people directly involved in the controversies narrated, and their accounts are utterly compelling. I had heard some of the stories told in those pages before, some of them described abstrusely, but reading them here, with all of bloody details so to speak, was another experience entirely, and were it not for the author's consistent need to interject his own opinion I would have been completely immersed in the text.<br />
<br />
I find it regrettable that Rufo is not content to let the evidence speak for itself, which it does rather eloquently in many instances; he seems to feel the need to push things along with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. He casually tosses around phrases like "throwback to the Dark Ages," and constantly chooses instead to skip to the conclusions to be drawn from the incidents rather than patiently build his arguments with his anecdotes. In short, he cannot help but constantly dot the "i"s and cross the "t"s for his readers. "Hey look, everyone! These people are eeeeeviiiiil!" Though this book may be a work of non-fiction, it is still propelled by narrative, and as such Rufo should still respect the cardinal rule of effective narrative: SHOW, don't TELL.<br />
<br />
Given that the book is written in English, it seems fairly clear that Rufo's intended readership is considerably more educated than the kind who get all of their knowledge from reading tabloids. For all of that, however, he does not seem to give his readers any credit whatsoever, virtually bludgeoning them with his constant editorials throughout the book that basically leave the reader very little room to make up their minds for themselves on the state of the local Catholic Church. Now, personally, I am not a fan of people dictating to me how to think, whether it's a priest or some journalist with an axe to grind, and so I could not help but take some umbrage at Rufo's attempt to manipulate my sentiments on the matter. <br />
<br />
Ironically, it is in discussing the much-mooted Reproductive Health issue that Rufo actually goes relatively easy on the Church and instead insinuates that the Philippine government went the "extra mile," so to speak, to ensure the passage by the legislature of the RH Law. While he refrains from ascribing impropriety to the Church in this portion, he nonetheless remains decidedly unkind to their anti-RH stance. There's very little actual reportage here, and nearly everything Rufo says has already been amply covered by the mainstream media. This inclusion of this episode in the Church's troubled history, while admittedly important, nonetheless seems like an afterthought, or worse, like the act of kicking someone when they're down.<br />
<br />
Worse still, Rufo completely wrecks the flow of his book, in which he discusses, in succession, the various scandals of the Catholic Church involving sex, politics and money, then offers a hopeful chapter on collaboration between the Church and the government, by ending with a chapter on a bishop allegedly harassing a nun whom he has accused of theft, which, on its face, is little more than a he-said-she-said account of a single incident involving two people. Considering that, in the preceding chapters, Rufo tackles issues involving institutional decay brought about by the alleged licentiousness and greed of Church leaders on an appalling scale, this relatively petty incident feels decidedly out of place and, again, like an afterthought. To my mind, it would have been better for Rufo to end with the chapter discussing the encouraging cooperative efforts between some local dioceses and local governments, but it is almost as if he suffers from some form of verbal diarrhea and cannot help but end the meat of his discourse with a cheap shot rather than words of encouragement. <br />
<br />
On top of all of this, it seems painfully obvious that this book was not properly edited or proofread, with Rufo mixing up the words "foresight" and "hindsight" and, much later in the book, actually inventing a President of the Philippines who never existed before: Ferdinand Ramos. Considering that the book isn't even very long, it should not have been too difficult a task to edit its content and catch gaffes like that.<br />
<br />
To my mind, however the real tragedy of this book is that, when stripped of what distinctly feels like an anti-clerical agenda, it actually makes for some very engaging, and more importantly, informative reading.<br />
<br />
Personally, I have long believed that the biggest problem of the Church was the presence of a few rotten apples in high places rather than flaws inherent to the institution itself. The Church has had its fair history of villains in its two millennia of existence--it is the only institution that I know of, after all, that actually put a dead man on trial, corpse and all--but it has endured all this time because it is bigger than any of its vicars or their foibles. While it is true that institutions are formed by people, and the presence of arguably less-than-altruistic persons in the Church hierarchy may have, over time, resulted in some pernicious practices becoming fossilized, such negative institutions may likewise be demolished by people and rebuilt from the ground up, if necessary. All the Church needs to remain relevant, even in today's society, is the right leaders, as Pope John Paul II demonstrated
after a fashion and as Pope Francis I is currently starting to demonstrate,
particularly in this era where the Roman Catholic Church is finally
starting to accept responsibility for the iniquities perpetrated by its
clergy on the faithful. <br />
<br />
The anecdotes Rufo shares with his readers, if one is able to see past his heavy-handed commentary which borders on pontification, shed light on the human frailty of several members of our local clergy, and hit home how important it is to shatter, once and for all the myth of the clergy's infallibility. Whether or not the Church and its apologists choose to accept this truth, the fact of the matter is that the Catholic Church is an institution in dire need of repair, a former bastion of morality that has seen its moral authority erode considerably in the last few years in the wake of one scandal after another. Like the rest of us, our priests are human, and their sexual and financial indiscretions should be measured and judged by the same legal and moral standards as those applied to the rest of us, if not more stringent standards altogether. More importantly, however, true healing between the Church and its disillusioned faithful can only begin with real accountability, not the summary sweeping under the rug that the Church all around the world has done with most, if not all of the indiscretions of its clerics. <br />
<br />
As I said at the beginning of this review, this book should have been an important piece of investigative journalism, but because Rufo drops the ball on too many occasions, it just feels like a wasted opportunity. Fortunately for Rufo, deconstructing the Catholic Church is very much <i>en vogue</i> these days and therefore his book is quite likely to find an audience, one which, I hope, can grasp the important message diluted by his consistent soap-box lectures and his muddled prose.<br />
<br />
Or in the alternative, one positive offshoot of this book could be that another, better-written one may one day come along.<br />
<br />
2.5/5<br />
<br />
<br />Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-77839668201914992242013-06-08T19:34:00.000-07:002013-06-10T23:09:16.299-07:00So the Cosmic Scheme...Makes Sense for Once?I rarely find myself waxing existential, but two separate, unrelated events that made headlines this past week, one of which involved tragic, seemingly random death and the other of which involved what was arguably a near-death experience for several dozen people have really gotten me thinking about life and death.<br />
<br />
The first event was the explosion of a condominium in Taguig, which blew out both of the unit's walls, one of which fell into the street below and struck a delivery van, killing its three occupants. Investigation of the incident is ongoing, but even granting that there was foul play, an angle which, right now, is looking less and less likely, there was no way that whoever was responsible for it could have possibly targeted the victims. They were simply, as the cliche goes, in the wrong place at the wrong time.<br />
<br />
The second was the botched landing of a commercial airliner, which skidded off the runway of the Davao International Airport, one which resonates a little more personally with me as I personally know one of the passengers of that ill-fated plane. It was a harrowing experience for everyone on the plane at that moment, and had one or two more elements gone wrong as well, it could have been their last experience on this Earth. As it happened, though, all of them survived.<br />
<br />
Investigations of both incidents are ongoing, and it's not for me to say who is to blame for either of them, but what I can't stop thinking about is how outrageously random the three deaths were, and how the survival of everyone on that plane was nothing short of a miracle.<br />
<br />
I can't imagine that the people in the van that was crushed by the wall of the exploding condominium got out of bed that morning imagining that anything even remotely like that could possibly happen to them; considering what happened, and the way it happened they probably never knew what hit them. As sudden, horrifying deaths go it was probably one of the most merciful they could have experienced.<br />
<br />
The plane ride was another story; one of the passengers of the ill-fated flight blogged about how things had already gone wrong before he even boarded the plane. Also, as a semi-frequent flyer myself I confess to have had more than one moment of fearing if the plane would ever land safely. No matter how safe today's aircraft are, the fact remains that flying travelers are suspended 30,000 feet above the air, something that becomes rather vivid when one looks out the window, and even more so when the plane flies through air turbulence, or in heavy wather. There's plenty of room for paranoia for people disposed to it.<br />
<br />
In short, unlike the guys in the truck who were clobbered by a slab of concrete falling out of the sky, the passengers of the flight had plenty of time to contemplate their fate and to work themselves up into a proper panic.<br />
<br />
I don't have answers, or even any particularly intelligent questions, but sometimes things happen in this world that really just get me wondering. I do believe in God and if I ever professed that I didn't, it was more out of a sense of childish spite, a way of somehow getting back at God for not giving me what I was asking for at a given point in time, and declaring "this is how I hurt you: by refusing to believe in you." Even as someone who believes, and who is ready to interpret a given facts to support that belief in the same way that non-believers are glad to interpret the same set of facts to support the opposite, I confess I was utterly confounded by this series of events, and it really got me thinking that the Lord truly does work in mysterious ways, especially when he doesn't.<br />
<br />
On the face of things, if God chose whom to take and whom to spare, it's more logical that three men should die, while the hundred or so people on the airplane should live, but considering how many people have died in airplane crashes, shipwrecks, or typhoons, it seems a little odd that God's apparent machinations were better suited to human understanding this time around. The slab of concrete could have theoretically missed the van had things been just the tiniest bit different, and the on the other any of a dozen different things could have gone wrong with the flight that would have ended with the plane crashing and the passengers all getting killed, but it was not to be that way.<br />
<br />
From going all existential, I find myself waxing cliche because all things considered, there's really naught left to say but: when it's your time to go, it's your time to go.<br />
<br />
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<br />Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-85189152871935463752013-05-29T02:22:00.000-07:002013-06-02T17:46:24.692-07:00"Pinoy Humor"The remarkable feat involved in the triumph of Senator-elect Nancy Binay is not that she got elected; her last name all but guaranteed her a seat in the Senate. The real feat was that of the multitude of idiots online who were able to drown out the voices of people trying to call the public's attention to Binay's utter lack of any experience that would make her suitable for the position for which she was running...all by harping on her skin color.<br />
<br />
Apparently, it all started when some celebrity cracked jokes about Binay's skin color, and several people, probably too stupid to follow any intelligent conversation about her lack of qualifications for public service, dwelled on that instead, and as a result the whole conversation mutated into a diatribe on how Nancy Binay shouldn't be elected because she's dark-skinned and therefore ugly. Full stop. Internet memes on how the "black Nazarene" would assume public office became all the rage and in a twinkling Binay went from a woman with no notable achievement in public service to speak of who was coasting solely on her father's last name to an underdog being lambasted for the color of her skin. Filipinos love underdogs, and in her television interviews she played up that angle for everything it was worth.<br />
<br />
In the end, in a perverse twist, Nancy Binay's apologists ended up hailing her as a champion for the masses, despite the fact that she had done absolutely nothing for them. The one chance people had of derailing her senatorial bid by asking legitimate questions was basically killed by morons who thought that crude jokes about her appearance was the way to bring her down.<br />
<br />
We in the Philippines don't have a monopoly on jokes that appeal to the lowest common denominator, to be sure; it's all over the world. The problem with our brand of lowbrow humor is that a great many of our celebrity comedians don't seem to have any boundaries as to what the subject of that humor can be.<br />
<br />
Recently, the same celebrity who started the ball rolling on Nancy Binay's skin color got in hot water for a highly inappropriate joke about rape, which is but one of many that have been cracked by various local comedians on different television stations. In short, while this celebrity reaped the whirlwind, many others have been sowing the wind for quite some time now, and I have to wonder when it's going to stop. A few months back I yelled at my son for laughing at the mention of the word rape, only to find out some kid in his school had gone around telling people that the word meant something funny. Where that kid learned such a horrifying concept is anyone's guess, really, because as far as our local entertainment goes there are tons of places where he could have picked it up.<br />
<br />
The ability to laugh is one of God's greatest gifts to us. It makes us feel good in just about every imaginable way, and it apparently has wonderful health benefits as well. Laughter comes naturally, but the choice of what to laugh at is a product of cultural conditioning. Save for perhaps the most rudimentary humor like slapstick, no one really knows what it is what he or she is supposed to find funny until his cultural environment conditions their minds.<br />
<br />
Maybe it is possible to tell intelligent, genuinely funny jokes about something as heinous as rape. After all, grisly topics like murder, war, racism and pedophilia have been mined for some reasonably intelligent humor, although the spirit of the humor still retained some aspect of social commentary, rather than coming across as mean-spirited putdowns. In any case, however, humor like this is not the kind on which our children, incapable of understanding satire or nuance, should be raised, and yet it pollutes our televisions on a regular basis. The erring celebrity mentioned gave his act at a live comedy concert, so in a way he is excused from the charge of polluting kids' minds, but the same can't be said for generations of so-called "comedians" who have been around for decades, and some of whom, with due respect, are already even in their graves. A few months ago, another so-called comedian drew public ire for having a little boy gyrate on stage like a male stripper, to much bawdy laughter from the audience.<br />
<br />
This particular incident was thrust into the spotlight because of the sheer speed at which communications moves nowadays, and maybe this should cause the purveyors of crude humor here in the Philippines, regardless of their "home network" to take pause and reconsider the kind of jokes they've been telling, and if they really want the children of this nation to absorb their so-called "humor" without context or discernment. Not only that, but the worst part of this brand of jokes is how, even with context it tends to demean every conversation into which it is introduced. A stark example of this, again, is the Nancy Binay phenomenon, where the genuine desire for discourse on qualification for public office was basically squelched by internet memes about skin color. <br />
<br />
The thing about us Filipinos is that we are actually very clever people. We can do satire and classy humor along with the very best of them. We can be self-deprecating and come up with humor that is uniquely our own, without having to be crude or crass. This unique brand of Filipino humor may offend some people, but it doesn't have to be so universally offensive that it demeans not only the people we mock but us as well. We're better than Tito, Vic and Joey and their scores of imitators.<br />
<br />
We can be genuinely funny.Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-560975591469248752013-05-27T21:07:00.000-07:002013-07-13T06:32:30.410-07:00Image and LikenessI have, in the past, basically shouted myself hoarse over the virtual deification of the fair-skinned individual in this country, and though I have heard voices of assent over on social media, our collective self-loathing continues virtually unabated. I take some consolation knowing that some offensive advertisements and media, such as the series of commercials promoting a skin-lightening product for men some months back, as well as a cover for a racy magazine were pulled from the market following social media outrage, but the latest barrage of stupidity, this time from a TV network, has my hackles rising all over again.<br />
<br />
This time, the guilty party is ABS-CBN, who will soon be launching a show in which the protagonist, a dark and therefore "ugly" girl, to be played by an actress in blackface, will be "beautified" by a magic candle which, surprise, surprise, will lighten her skin. Not too long ago, rival station GMA aired a whole slew of shows featuring several of its fair-skinned mainstays in various stages of blackface. One of the shows was even called "Nita Negrita" if you can believe it. While social media may kick up a fuss, ultimately, most people will probably watch this new TV show, and will probably even continue to buy the skin-whitening products that currently flood the market in the hopes that they can achieve the same effect.<br />
<br />
Now, some people have dismissed this extremely unpleasant attitude as a case of the grass being greener on the other side, considering that many Caucasian people basically color themselves orange trying to get tanned, but I have yet to hear of a film or television show in the West starring Asians, Latin Americans or people of African origin playing "whiteface" and yearning to be darker-skinned, so basically our aversion to our own skin color still trumps theirs. <br />
<br />
Instead of just joining the angry chorus this time (though I certainly "sang" in some people's "choirs" over on Facebook), I've given some thought to the obsession with lighter skin, and I think one of the biggest problems behind the whole phenomenon is that in this country, people worship a white dude.<br />
<br />
The truly galling thing about the Catholic Church in this country and the images that adorn its churches is that they perpetuate the notion that Jesus was/is a white guy, in many instances with ivory skin, rosy cheeks and blue eyes, when in truth his ethnicity has been the subject of a heck of a lot of debate with no conclusive answer, although the fact that he lived in the Middle East would suggest that he is more likely to have resembled Osama Bin Laden than Brad Pitt. Heck, the black Nazarene may be a more accurate depiction of how he looked, though perhaps without the distinctly aquiline nose and other Western European features.<br />
<br />
Worse still, a lot of the paintings that adorn our Catholic Churches in the Philippines depict God the Father as an old, white guy.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm not an atheist by any stretch of the imagination, but I would think that an omnipotent being that is responsible for all of creation would choose to represent itself as something with a bit more vitality than a doddering, and in some depictions, bald old Caucasian. At least Zeus/Jupiter supposedly had huge muscles (even if many sculptors depict him as having a tiny weiner). Not only that, but there is NO evidence whatsoever that would suggest that God looks like that. I'm pretty sure the phrase "old white guy" is nowhere to be found in the Bible or even in any of our Catechisms, so that image was basically an interpretation of the Spaniards who brought Christianity here and the local rubes who accepted their codswallop hook, line and sinker.<br />
<br />
Finally, as far as Catholics go, it seems the standard image of Mary, the avatar of all that is good, pure and beautiful, is that of an unmistakably Caucasian girl, whose visage was probably borrowed from some Spanish aristocrat hundreds of years ago, notwithstanding the fact that in reality, Mary could just as easily have looked like Mayim Bialik from <i>The Big Bang Theory. </i>Again, no historical records say she was, or even looked like a white girl.<br />
<br />
If people argue that these images represent what is ideal, i.e. the appearance of Jesus and Mary in Heaven, rather than what was real, in Israel over two thousand years ago, then THAT is the problem RIGHT THERE: the belief that in Heaven, Jesus and Mary are white people.<br />
<br />
Basically, we quite literally WORSHIP someone represented as a WHITE person. No WONDER so many of us want to be white! <br />
<br />
Now, in other cultures, like in China, Korea, and Japan, in order to introduce Christianity, missionaries have had to adapt. Jesus and Mary BECOME Chinese, or Korean, or Japanese and their images, whether in paintings or sculpture, are adjusted accordingly. Many of these ethnically adapted images of the Virgin Mary and/or the Holy Family are quite lovely by the way. It's easy enough to find these images with a quick Google search. In contrast, a Google search for "Filipino Virgin Mary" will yield nothing but images of the Virgin Mary that the Europeans introduced to us nearly half a millennium ago. You will NOT see a brown-skinned Madonna wearing <i>baro't saya</i> or her brown-skinned husband and child wearing<i> barong Tagalog</i>. <br />
<br />
The thing is, the devotion of Chinese, Japanese or Korean people is not in the least diminished by the appearance of these icons; if anything, it's enhanced by it, because they can identify better with God. God is one of them; they more easily embrace the notion that they came from God, not from some distant entity that looks nothing like them.<br />
<br />
The Bible itself talks about the Pentecostal miracle; how remarkable it was that people of different nations could understand the Apostles, all of whom were from Galilee, because they spoke in the language of each of the people present. Adapting religious icons to suit cultures is, to my mind, an extension of this phenomenon.<br />
<br />
For all of that, however, we choose to worship Jesus and Mary as filtered through European sensibilities, when there is absolutely nothing that compels us to do so.<br />
<br />
I exhort the leaders of the Catholic Church: please take down your icons of lily white Jesus (adult and child versions) and Mary. Put them in museums if you like. Replace all of these instead with images of Jesus and Mary with black hair and brown skin, wearing our lovely national costumes instead of those ridiculously ostentatious, gold-trimmed outfits that I'm pretty sure would look just as laughable in Heaven as they do on Earth. Make Venus Raj or Shamcey Supsup your commissioned artists' model for Mary; I'm sure either of those faces will leave a much more lasting impression on people's minds than that of some anonymous white chick who's probably centuries in her grave.<br />
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I also exhort you to paint over your murals of old, white (sometimes bald) God. Instead of some decrepit white dude, make the image of God a huge, brawny-looking Filipino dude with long, flowing black hair and beard, and huge, brown muscles, like a hulking Bernardo Carpio, the kind of guy who could kick Satan's ass. Speaking of Satan, whom St. Michael the archangel is always depicted slaying, why not model him after somebody people love to hate, like Kim Kardashian? Or maybe people who are often associated with him, like Ozzy Osbourne. I'm sure he'd be tickled pink at the reference; it could be an extension of his cameo in Adam Sandler's <i>Little Nicky</i>. <br />
<br />
This isn't about the RH bill or whatever your cause<i> du jour</i> is; it's about getting the Filipino people to be happy with the skin that God gave them, and to therefore be more grateful, loving and reverent towards God, and ultimately getting them to be better Catholics. Incidentally, it also can reduce the likelihood of any more of your priests getting in hot water for illegally importing ivory statutes.<br />
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I know this flies in the face of centuries of tradition, but I am sick of people's collective attitude towards brown skin...their OWN skin...and I know I'm not alone in this. I imagine it has already occurred to some people that worshiping a Caucasian God is part of the problem, but since I have yet to read such sentiments I would like to voice them myself.<br />
<br />
Let's say it all together: God DOESN'T have to be a WHITE dude. God GAVE us Filipinos brown skin, and for that reason alone we should LOVE our skin.<br />
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<br />Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-61850884935756937992013-04-03T01:48:00.001-07:002013-04-03T01:54:50.923-07:00Finding the DisappearedThe finding of the Court of Appeals that the military was responsible for the abduction of one Jonas Burgos, a suspected communist rebel, has resuscitated a story that has been dormant in the mainstream consciousness for some time now. Burgos was abducted in 2007 by suspected intelligence agents of the military in Quezon City. Burgos' mother sought relief in the Philippine courts, and obtained a Writ of Amparo directed at the military, which meant that the military had to either produce Jonas, dead or alive, or account for his whereabouts. Thanks to the glacial pace of litigation in this country, and to the 15-second attention span that mass-media has cultivated among the mainstream public, the average Juan son forgot about the case. Recently, with a determination by the Court of Appeals, to whom the Supreme Court endorsed the case for in-depth investigation, that the military was responsible for Burgos' disappearance, and the surfacing of a photograph that seems to strongly suggest Burgos was in military custody at some point, people are remembering him all over again.<br />
<br />
The timing is good; now that there appear to be fresh leads in Burgos' case, the determination of his ultimate fate now seems to be within his mother's grasp, or at least, closer than it has ever been before. There is now a law that punishes enforced disappearance, and if there are those within the current military who know what happened to Burgos but refuse to 'fess up, the consequences for such individuals, if Burgos is eventually determined to have been in military custody, could be dire. <br />
<br />
It is not really my place to comment on the Burgos case as I am neither a journalist nor a lawyer for either side of the controversy, but as a human rights advocate I would like to weigh in on why enforced disappearance, of all human rights violations, is arguably the most pernicious of the lot. <br />
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The thing about acts of enforced or involuntary disappearance that makes them worse than acts of torture or even killing is the uncertainty that accompanies them, or more particularly the uncertainty they create in the minds of the families of the disappeared. Of course, in all cases of human rights violations such as torture and extrajudicial killing the families have to live with the aftermath of the violation, but in the case of EID it is the families who have it worst of all, even, arguably, more than the disappeared. It is the families who have to live with both despair, as they try to steel themselves for the worst, and the hope that they can never fully discount. I can't but wonder if hope isn't an additional source of torment in such instances rather than a balm. How can one close the book and move on when one doesn't even know how the story ended, after all?<br />
<br />
Also, more than any other human rights violation it just feels unspeakably cruel because it serves no other purpose than to torment. Killing supposedly punishes and torture supposedly leads to information or retribution, but to me it seems that the sole purpose of removing a person completely from the public and then to deny any knowledge whatsoever of the person's whereabouts is to strike terror and dread into people's hearts. It is a statement that says "this can happen to any of you; we can arrange it so that you cease to exist." EID is not really about the disappeared, it's about the persons left behind.<br />
<br />
EID is in no way justified by the revelation that the disappeared were actual enemies of the state; there are plenty of remedies available to deal with such people. They can be tried in court and thrown in prison, or, in the context of actual armed encounters, be blown to kingdom come. To subject them to EID is a losing proposition all around; all it does is martyr them, visit untold agony on their families, many of whom may not even know about their lives as rebels, and reinforce the decades-old image of the government security forces as human rights violators. As with all other human rights violations there is no place for EID in any civilized society.<br />
<br />
Another thing I've observed about the loved ones of longtime "desaparesidos" is how their hope dulls into resignation, especially when the persons disappeared, having been removed from the field for so many years, have quite arguably outlived their usefulness from an intelligence standpoint, and are most likely occupying unmarked graves somewhere. Then, the refusal to admit the whereabouts or fate of the disappeared at this point stems from a desire to evade liability for the persons' summary execution. One evil begets another, and in the meantime, those left behind live the rest of their lives without any real sense of closure. <br />
<br />
Whether or not the Philippine military has or ever had Jonas Burgos in its custody, to my mind one thing has to happen: they have to do their part in healing the wounds that were opened during the days of martial law, when tens of thousands of people were, in effect, dragged off the face of the earth. A year or two ago the military declassified, for the first time in many years, several of the files that were kept during the martial law years, a significant gesture by itself but which needs to be followed through. The information contained in these files could be key to determining the whereabouts of at least some of the thousands of <i>desaparesidos</i> who disappeared in the 70s and 80s. In the years that have passed since then, the people principally responsible for these heinous acts have either died, retired, or otherwise faded into obscurity, and yet, the scars inflicted by them remain on the souls of the spouses, children, relatives and dear friends of those who were forcibly disappeared. With these decades-old dossiers having been disclosed it would probably go a long way towards our collective healing if all concerned, the security sector, the Commission on Human Rights, civil society and the families and loved ones of the <i>desaparesidos</i> worked together to piece together the information necessary to trace the whereabouts of the disappeared, even if that only means unearthing shallow, unmarked graves in the remotest areas of the country. <br />
<br />
When that has happened, for better or worse, the families of the disappeared, many of whom have been waiting for the better part of four decades to learn the truth, will know with finality the fate that befell their loved ones, thus ending the greatest evil wrought by these atrocities and taking a significant step towards making EID a thing of the past. <br />
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Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-42950250815035582722013-03-19T04:55:00.000-07:002013-03-19T06:31:24.836-07:00The Rewards of Zero-SumRecently I went to a bank to deposit some cash. I counted what I thought was a certain number of bills and wrote the number of bills I thought I was holding down on my deposit slip. I waited in line, then handed the bills to the teller, who counted them and told me I had given her one bill more than what I had intended to deposit. I very gratefully took the extra bill back and as I did I reflected for a moment on how good it felt to have someone treat me with honesty and decency.<br />
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I can be a very petty person, even when it isn't obvious to other people. There have been occasions in my life when I would give back change (though never anything as big as a five hundred peso bill), or give up my seat on the bus, or donate blood, or perform other small acts of kindness and for the briefest moment wonder about my cosmic reward, or, in other words, wonder what was in it for me, albeit after the fact. I can honestly say that I do not entertain these thoughts very often when I perform these acts, but they are there, as embarrassed as I am to admit their existence. <br />
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And because I am, or can sometimes be, a petty person, I found myself almost immediately humbled and shamed by this woman's no-nonsense act of decency. If she were of the same mindset as many, many corrupt individuals who pollute this country, she could have easily kept quiet, pretended that all was well, and then kept the extra P500 bill I had inadvertently handed her. I would not have known until probably much later, at which time I would have absolutely no way to prove my claim. She was actually nine months pregnant; goodness knows she could have used the money. The only thing that stood in her way of pocketing my money really, was an innate sense of responsibility. When she called my attention to the extra bill she did not hesitate, thereby making it clear that she never even so much as contemplated doing anything other than the right thing.<br />
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At the end of the day, THIS is the reward, mine and everyone else's, for being honest and forthcoming with each other: a society where no one screws other people over, where everyone gives everyone else his due, and no one gets ahead by stepping on other people's heads. Strictly speaking, we don't "get" anything for being the decent people we're supposed to be in the first place, but if it means a society where we don't have to worry every other minute about getting shafted, then that is reward enough, as far as I'm concerned. Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-59611604445453879532013-01-31T20:46:00.000-08:002013-01-31T22:51:18.585-08:00Weeding Out an AnachronismWith social media demigod-cum-tour guide Carlos Celdran having been convicted for violating Article 133 of the Revised Penal Code of the Philippines titled "offending religious feelings," and having been sentenced to a jail term ranging from two months to a year, there has been a lot of talk on the social media-sphere, talk about what horrible people the local clergy are, talk about whether or not Celdran deserved it, and talk about how ridiculous and antiquated the law is. <br />
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I'm particularly interested in the last bit, because it reflects an overall trend in criminal law nowadays, what with discussions on the de-criminalization of libel also making waves lately. People can post diatribe after diatribe against the church for pursuing its case against Celdran (whatever their pretensions to the contrary) but at the end of the day, the law was there for them to invoke. <br />
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For me the bottom line is this: the RPC is in dire need of a thorough overhaul. The reasons why could cover an entire series of blog posts, or even a book, but I'm nowhere near scholarly enough to devote the energy needed for that sort of enterprise.<br />
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Now, the option is definitely on the table to have the provision of the law declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court and there seems to be every indication that this is the tack Celdran's lawyer, Marlon Manuel, intends to take. <br />
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My idea, which may be a little more radical (though I know I'm not alone), is that Celdran should do the time. <br />
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My theory is that there are few things that could more effectively hit home the absurdity of the notion of doing prison time for an offense that 1) can easily be settled by mediation and 2) may well have been overtaken by no less than the Constitution, than the image of someone actually doing the time. Celdran's picture in a Manila jail cell, wearing his Jose Rizal outfit and a wry smile, is virtually iconic in social media circles and one could argue it stirred up so much outrage that it helped the Reproductive Health Bill become the Reproductive Health Law. If such an image could help create a law, then it's reasonable to believe that a whole string of such images could help tear a provision of law out of the statute books to which it no longer belongs. If Celdran dropped his appeal and served his prison sentence it would be legally correct (as the law is valid until found unconstitutional), but morally abhorrent. <br />
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The media coverage of Celdran's trip to New Bilibid alone would be a circus, and in the age of social media and the internet he would probably be the first celebrity since Robin Padilla to have protracted media exposure while in prison. Padilla shot a movie during his abbreviated sentence in Bilibid (for illegal possession of firearms) back in the 1990s; Celdran's supporters would probably hold both an actual and online vigil and a social-media based countdown of his term. I wouldn't be entirely surprised if Celdran got his own year-long reality show while on the inside. He could share Filipino culture with the prisoners and be one of the boys, assuming he doesn't become anyone's "wife" while he's there. <br />
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But then, if he suffered while in our notoriously hellish, septic prison system, the effect on the public psyche would be all the more profound. All the time he'd be in there, without even opening his mouth he would be declaring to the world: "I'm in here because someone insisted on implementing an archaic law that punishes hurting people's feeling with a prison sentence." That's the kind of imagery that would stick to the public consciousness for a long time. What better way, after all, to show the excess of the penalty than by actually enduring it?<br />
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If that doesn't get this batch of legislators scrambling to revisit the RPC and all of its forgotten antiquities (e.g. "dueling") then at least it will be on the minds of the next batch of legislators after this year's elections. If absolutely nothing else, Celdran could most likely get a presidential pardon.<br />
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Maybe, if the attempts to invalidate portions of the Cybercrime Law don't pan out, indignant citizens whose internet posts fall within the purview of the law can march to prison for "cyberlibel" as well, as prisoners of conscience. Just a thought.<br />
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Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-69474322836208351412013-01-24T20:41:00.000-08:002013-01-24T20:43:43.854-08:00MicrocosmThis blog has remained inactive for months, despite the fact that on numerous occasions I have sat down to draft numerous posts about issues burning the headlines. Still, I could not think of anything to say that had not been said quite exhaustively elsewhere and so, discouraged, I would abandon the posts and do other things. I no longer review movies here, whether it's to heap praise or scorn upon them; for that I now have <i>Jim's Film Ramblings</i>. I no longer review comic books or ruminate on TV shows here; I have <i>Jim's Pop Culture Window</i> for that.<br />
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To what, then, should I devote this blog?<br />
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Well, this blog is called "The Tantrum" and as it so happens, there are a lot of things wrong with society today, and a lot of tantrums waiting to be thrown.<br />
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I'd rather not write about things like the RH law or the Cybercrime law because that's pretty much being done to death elsewhere, by people whose actual job it is to write about these things. <br />
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No, my little diatribe will be about something with which many residents of Quezon City are no doubt familiar: the flyover on Commonwealth Avenue across Tandang Sora. <br />
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By way of a little background, Commonwealth Road is a major traffic artery which connects Novaliches, Fairview and several other communities in between to the rest of Quezon City. It starts at the Quezon City Elliptical Road and ends somewhere in Novaliches. At its very widest, Commonwealth Road is eighteen lanes wide, with each side having nine full-sized car lanes. It is reportedly the widest road in the Philippines. The flyover that traverses Tandang Sora is four lanes wide, in contrast, with two lanes on either side. <br />
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Every morning throughout the working days of the week I drive along Commonwealth on my way to work and on my way to take my son to school, and whenever I am about a kilometer or so away from the flyover crossing Tandang Sora, I see the two innermost lanes of the road backed up with cars. As I draw closer to Tandang Sora, I see a much larger swarm of cars veering left from the next two innermost lanes of Commonwealth and converging on the two innermost lanes, many of them cutting or trying their hardest to cut in front of the line of cars already positioned in the two innermost lanes. By the time I am a few dozen meters away from the foot of the flyover, the number of lanes containing cars trying to cut into the innermost lanes has doubled, with four lanes full of cars trying their very damnedest to bulldoze their way into the two innermost lanes, and with many of them succeeding at the expense of the people way in the back who actually opted to use the innermost lanes in the first place, as they should be doing. There are traffic aides near the foot of the flyover who attempt to control the chaos, and indeed there are even concrete barriers a few meters away to prevent the most abrupt possible cutting into the flyover lanes, but there is precious little any of these people or physical obstacles can do against such an overwhelming tide of selfishness and stupidity.<br />
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Every morning I see this spectacle. I see a less extreme, but similarly annoying version of it at night, but in the morning it is simply atrocious. <br />
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Every time I see it, I think to myself that if everyone simply used the innermost lanes to begin with, traffic along that flyover would proceed quite smoothly. The problem arises when one, then two, then dozens of motorists feel they can't be bothered to wait in line and decide to cut in front. Sure, there is an issue with the flyover being a bit of an anachronism; at the time it was constructed, Commonwealth Avenue was probably roughly half its current width, and it was a huge convenience. <br />
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Now, however, it is patently absurd to see cars from five or six lanes jostling for position on two lanes. This happens every day. The worst part is that many of the rude drivers prevail at the expense of the ones who actually followed the rules. The cars that actually make it to the flyover actually travel rather quickly, even though the struggle to get there can take anywhere from five to fifteen extra minutes compared to waiting for the ninety-second stoplight below it. The drivers of the cars on the bottom are apparently too important to be held up by the stoplight, so they cut in front of the people who bothered to get in line. Every morning, it's the same thing, without fail. <br />
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This traffic situation is a microcosm of what is truly wrong with the people in this country. <br />
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This is the attitude that permeates the psyches of everyone from manual laborers to white-collar workers to so-called public servants. What is well and truly wrong with our society doesn't have anything to do with who's in public office at any given time. <br />
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"I'm more important than you are, so it's my divine right to cut in front of you."<br />
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"I'm more important than you are, so I'm going to cheat on my exams."<br />
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"I'm more important than you are, so I will screw you at work for my own convenience."<br />
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"I'm more important than you are, so it's my right to steal millions of pesos from your taxes."<br />
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"I'm more important than you are, so it's my right to have you gunned down like an animal in the streets, or shot and buried in a jungle, or abducted by the military, never to be seen again."<br />
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So many evil acts stem from the same impulse that prompts motorists to cut in front of their fellow motorists; pure and simple selfishness. The only difference is that unlike the thieves and murderers, the motorists on Commonwealth flaunt their acute sense of self-importance in broad daylight. <br />
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The solution is simple, really; punish selfishness, at least on Commonwealth Avenue.<br />
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If history is any indication, in a few years' time, nobody will really give a damn about Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo going to jail or Renato Corona being kicked out of the Supreme Court; given our ridiculously short memories probably the only thing that will really remain in people's consciousness will be the politics of it all. I'm fairly sure none of the errant motorists on Commonwealth think that what happened to Corona or GMA could ever happen to them, because they're just motorists, after all.<br />
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Bringing the law and its enforcement down to the ground level, however, will be another story altogether. By punishing the rude "Commonwealth choppers," whether through fines or the inconvenience of having to recover their driver's licenses from City Hall, one could leave a lasting impression on motorists. Punish lawbreakers even with minor penalties, and people will start obeying laws. If implemented consistently and diligently, such punishment could really change things in the long run.<br />
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A good example of this can likewise be found on Commonwealth Avenue itself. When the government imposed a 60 kilometer-per-hour speed limit on Commonwealth a few years back, owing to the frequent occurrence of fatal road accidents, things actually changed for the better. Even before I moved to the area, I had been consistently driving up and down Commonwealth in the years since the speed limit was imposed, and I have observed that things have gotten genuinely better. The vast majority of motorists actually manage to keep their speed below 60kph, and not just because of the traffic. I think it's because people are actually afraid of being caught (which leads me to assume that violators have been apprehended).<br />
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Traffic rules are not a bad idea. They can save lives. Also, if people can only divorce themselves from the mindsets that push them to violate traffic in the first place, they can save souls as well.<br />
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(By the way, it would probably also help if they widened the flyover, though I'm no engineer and don't know how they would do that).Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-63619693592913195852012-04-26T19:21:00.001-07:002012-04-26T19:21:56.828-07:00Of Bratpackers and Top GunnersToday I saw a twenty-plus year old chestnut screen on HBO, the sequel to the 1988 sleeper hit <i>Young Guns</i>, titled, simply enough, <i>Young Guns II</i> and starring Emilio Estevez as the infamous Billy the Kid with several other rising stars of the era such as Kiefer Sutherland and Lou Diamond Phillips as his co-stars. I was reminded of my youth, then, and of a lot of the actors I grew up with from the 80s through the 90s, and wondered where a lot of them are.
Many young actors from the 80s have managed to endure. Sutherland has certainly left his mark on Hollywood, if not necessarily with his body of work on the big screen (which is already fairly considerable) then certainly with television hits such as <i>24</i> and more recently <i>Touch</i>. Charlie Sheen, brother of Estevez and 80s staple since the breakout success of Oliver Stone's <i>Platoon</i>, was, up until his bizarre meltdown a year or two ago the highest paid actor in television for his work on <i>Two and a Half Men</i>, and of course Tom Cruise, whose career was made by Tony Scott's <i>Top Gun</i> in 1986, apart from a brief dip in his career a few years back, has remained easily one of the most bankable movie stars in the world. So a lot of kids/ young actors from the 80s have done pretty well for themselves.
But then, what happened to the other guys?
Anthony Edwards, known to Gen Xers (I wonder if anyone even remembers that term anymore) mainly as <i>Top Gun</i>'s doomed Goose, had a bit of a career boost throughout much of the 90s as Dr. Mark Greene on television's <i>ER</i>, sporting a few more wrinkles and a lot less hair. It's not so much a mystery what happened to him as it is a disappointment that he kind of dropped out of circulation after that show, which arguably launched the career of his co-star, George Clooney.
Val Kilmer, who post-<i>Top Gun</i> donned Batman's cowl for <i>Batman Forever</i> in 1995 and who was on the big screen as recently as 2005's <i>Kiss Kiss Bang Bang</i> together with Robert Downey, Jr. That film wasn't a box-office hit but it was apparently well-enough regarded that it seems to have landed Black the directing gig for the next <i>Iron Man</i> movie, and I for one couldn't help but wonder why Kilmer didn't really stay in the game after that. He's kind of let himself go; the last time I saw him he was as fat as Santa Claus, though that could have just been some method acting I wasn't aware of at the time.
Meg Ryan, whose appearance in <i>Top Gun</i> was limited, went on to basically be America's sweetheart all throughout the nineties, so her fall from grace was particularly saddening if I may be honest. I hate the double standard of audiences that has allowed Russell Crowe to rebound from his tryst with Ryan eleven years ago but which seems to have all but destroyed her image. I wish Ryan would enjoy a breakout hit, one that more than a handful of people actually watch. She's not exactly awards-caliber talent (though she did try her hand at drama, albeit unsuccessfully), but even in her later efforts, in my humble opinion, she still remains eminently watchable. In terms of looks it must be said she's aged pretty well, so at least she's got that going for her.
The fate of the Brat Packers, a cadre of young actors whose heyday was in the 1980s with John Hughes films like <i>The Breakfast Club</i> and Joel Schumacher's <i>St. Elmo's Fire</i>, is a little harder to lament considering that neither of these films (nor any other of the Brat Pack films) was quite the pop-culture phenomenon that <i>Top Gun</i> was, and considering that many of them have worked quite steadily like Rob Lowe featuring prominently in <i>Brothers and Sisters</i> and Judd Nelson. Molly Ringwald and Ally Sheedy have pretty much fallen by the wayside, with Ringwald in particular registering a notable cameo in <i>Not Another Teen Movie</i> which was a sendup of just about every teen movie done in the last twenty years, including the ones in which she appeared...and little else.
Estevez himself has, after his success in the 80s and 90s, pretty much settled into the background. Perhaps it's preferable to going nuts like his brother did, but I still wish he'd show up every now and then, especially considering his dad Martin Sheen (Ramon Estevez in real life) has been keeping pretty busy. Sheen will be showing up as a reincarnated Uncle Ben in July's reboot <i>The Amazing Spider-Man</i>. All things considered, given that he's pushing fifty Estevez could actually play that role, or roles like it, by now.
For me, to see all of these actors I grew up with fade away until they show up in an E! special or on some reality show sometimes makes me wonder if they wouldn't have been somehow better off going out in a blaze of glory a la Heath Ledger. I suppose that, as is the case with rock bands, not every act can transcend more than one or two generations, but it would have been nice to see at least a few more of these guys go the distance.Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-71212883236994787382012-04-13T07:50:00.004-07:002012-04-16T06:53:28.766-07:00The Walking Dead: Who's Next?Hands-down, one of the best things about the fact that the TV series The Walking Dead has deviated substantially from its source material, namely the comic books by Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore and Charlie Aldard, is how much uncertainty it throws into the picture. Two full seasons in, and only a handful of people who have met their maker in the comics have kicked the proverbial bucket here. More significantly, their deaths on the small screen varied considerably from the deaths they met on the printed page. <br /><br />(Mild possible spoilers)<br /><br />Although one of the deaths in season one of the series was, as it was in the comics, a relatively early one, another character, one who lasted all of six issues in the comics was able to make it all the way to the penultimate episode of season 2, as major character who underwent a fairly rich storyarc, at that. Conversely, a character who lasted for nearly five years of the comic book's publication bowed out relatively early. Another twist in the storytelling is that one character who is actually still alive in the long-running comics died in a rather climactic fashion in the TV series. And then, of course, there's the fact that one of the show's most interesting characters, Daryl Dixon, is exclusive to the TV show, as is his brother, leaving audiences completely in the dark as to what his fate might be.<br /><br />The producers and writers of the TV show have laid down a marker of sorts, declaring that while they by and large respect the canon of the comics, they intend to strike out on their own path. This is gratifying as it means that even people who've followed the comics are left guessing as to who may die next, which adds quite a bit of a thrill to the proceedings. What's the point of a horror-themed series, after all, when the characters aren't in the peril of their lives?<br /><br />For those who have followed the series since its birth on the printed page, Kirkman's work still stands head and shoulders above its small screen counterpart due to his purity of vision. As owner of the book, Kirkman isn't influenced by things like ratings or the bottom line. The thing is, a straight adaptation, as is the case with most works that go from the page to the screen, big or small, would never have worked. Recognizing this, the brilliant Frank Darabont, who was primarily responsible for bringing the series to the screen, came up with something truly special. <br /><br />In its somewhat brief first season, the TV show, thanks largely to the efforts of Darabont, was easily on parallel with the comics in terms of truly gripping narrative. Darabont took Kirkman's and Moore's first six issues and absolutely ran with them, faithfully incorporating scenes and characters from the original comics, expanding sequences, creating whole new ones, and finally throwing in a couple of curve balls for good measure. I for one am pretty sure things like the survival of a character whose time should have been up, and the introduction of the Center for Disease Control story angle, to name but a few of the innovations, no doubt even shook complacent fanboys of the comics out of their comfort zone. Of course, it helped that Greg Nicotero's superlative prosthetic work far, far outstripped Moore's and Aldard's artwork in terms of visual impact, and that from a cast and crew perspective, everything was pitch perfect.<br /><br />Though things fell flat in the second season, which stretched out quite a bit longer than the first, and which, while still retaining much of that blend of character development, suspense and terror that has drawn me to this show like a moth to a burning lamp, lost quite a bit of its edge, the crew bounced back in the end with some really kick-ass final episodes. The show did seem to be a bit diminished with the loss of its primary shepherd Darabont, but given how strongly the writers and directors came back at the end of season 2, I'm inclined to think that the series will hit the ground running when Season 3 premieres in October.Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-28928680862673885062012-04-09T02:50:00.003-07:002012-04-09T09:07:48.272-07:00Topsy-TurvyAfter over a quarter of a century of collecting comic books, today I finally did something I've never done before; I picked up a comic book after having seen its adaptation, in particular the enormously popular cable TV series <span style="font-style:italic;">The Walking Dead</span>. I had ever and always followed a comic book from the page to the screen, usually the big one, and it was only because of how compelling I found the live-action television version of <span style="font-style:italic;">TWD</span> that I actually found myself going in the other direction for a change. I figured the best place to start was the very beginning, and so I got hold of Volume I, "Days Gone Bye" in which writer Robert Kirkman and artist Tony Moore introduce the world to the world of the walking dead.<br /><br />I won't review the comic book compilation here, as it is an eight-year-old publication and I don't as a rule review something that's been out that long, especially something as popular as this particular book, but now having at least seen some of the comic books on which the TV series was based I have to say my overall experience of <span style="font-style:italic;">TWD</span> is now that much richer. Given that Moore only ever illustrated the first six issues of the series, and that his work is reportedly a lot better-looking than that of his successor, current series artist Charlie Aldard, it seems I now have the cream of the crop, at least in terms of art. <br /><br />Now, as blasphemous as this may sound to devotees of the comic book, what Frank Darabont did with the first season of the show, which was by and large an expansion of the first six issues, amounted to a narrative <span style="font-style:italic;">tour de force</span>, as a result of which that season actually played better than the first six issues of the series read. There were a lot of tweaks made to the TV series that added dimension to the story and the characters; the expansion of Shane's character was a pretty significant departure from the comic book, as was the introduction of the Dixon brothers, particularly the certified badass Daryl (Norman Reedus), who remains unique to the show and who was, in fact, created by Darabont and not Kirkman.<br /><br />The thing is, though that Darabont, with the power of Hollywood and the talent of make-up demi-god Greg Nicotero, as well as a dedicated cast, crew and team of directors and writers (including Kirkman himself) at his disposal, had a distinct advantage over Kirkman, who only had artist Moore to help him establish mood. More importantly, though, it was Kirkman and Moore who blazed the trail with this extraordinary work; without their work there would have been no show to watch. The whole notion of a zombie apocalypse being played out as compelling human drama rather than some camped-up kitsch is something that was firmly established by Kirkman and Moore in these first six issues, and, I imagine, throughout the series, long before the TV show ever came into being. <br /><br />With the TV series on season break until the fall, which is nearly six months away, I now have plenty of time to catch up on the comic books I've missed, which span five years worth of stories. With any luck I'll be able to pick up at least three or four more collected editions before the series makes its return in September. It really was a new thing for me to actually be introduced to a comic book through its adaptation, but it's a new experience I most enthusiastically welcome. The show, and the comic books that inspired it, are fantastic.Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-86220363436182298102011-10-25T01:57:00.000-07:002011-10-25T20:40:34.860-07:00Old ComicsWhile I no longer regularly collect comic books, I still duck into comic stores every now and then to see what might tickle my fancy. While I still by current or recent comic books, whether in single-issue or trade paperback format, for some reason I find myself increasingly drawn to some older comic books, like John Byrne's <span style="font-style:italic;">Fantastic Four</span> or his all-too-brief nine issue stint on <span style="font-style:italic;">Captain America</span> with Roger Stern, or even Walt Simonson's run on <span style="font-style:italic;">Thor</span> (though I haven't bought any of this last one yet). I wouldn't mind getting a hold of that compilation of Alan Moore/Alan Davis <span style="font-style:italic;">Captain Britain</span> stories either, or of a paperback of Byrne's <span style="font-style:italic;">Superman: Man of Steel</span> miniseries, to name a few.<br /><br />In terms of craft, it certainly wouldn't be fair to say that the older product trumps the new (though some of Byrne's FF issues, at least in terms of their artwork, might go some way towards making that point), as there are a lot of new comics out there that are well-written and illustrated, but I think what really sets these older issues apart is how, even as recently as the 1980s, pure they seemed to be in that they weren't written with film adaptations in mind, even though by that time many of them were already the subject of popular merchandise like pajamas and toys. Sure, the stories weren't always that imaginative and the dialogue and artwork were often embarrassingly dated (like some of the Stern/Byrne Cap stories, which prominently featured bell-bottom pants and some decidedly bushy 70's hairdos), but there was something really special about how, in many if not most of these old stories, the creators of these books do not come across as self-conscious. Even from their scripts and story beats, a number of today's comic book creators seem eternally conscious of the fact that Hollywood execs may or may not scan their pages for movie or TV ideas, or how brutal legions of internet fanboys may be if what they read is not to their liking. If there were agendas back then, or if the authors were intent on achieving the 1970s or 1980s equivalent of "breaking the internet in half," it didn't really show. A lot of current writers, like Ed Brubaker, Mark Waid, or on a good day, Brian Bendis, seem intent on telling good stories, but so many of today's storytellers, event guys who've written stuff I like, like Dan Slott or Mark Millar, are so fond of referencing pop-culture, or even the fact that comic-book characters are so firmly ensconced in pop-culture these days, that it's nauseating. <br /><br />Like the saying goes, they don't make comics like they used to...Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-64691651847758373782011-09-18T08:05:00.001-07:002011-10-03T01:29:05.703-07:00Why Ultimate Spider-Man's Being Half-Black, Half Latino is No Big DealNot having grown up in a multi-cultural society I have had the good fortune of never having experienced racism firsthand, though of course I've heard and read about it. I don't feel qualified, as a result, to join the chorus of people yelling "racist" at all of the fanboys objecting to the fact that Marvel Comics has replaced "Ultimate" Peter Parker, also known as Spider-Man, or one of the at least three versions of the character they are currently publishing, with a young teenager who happens to be half African-American, half Puerto Rican. To be honest, I don't feel qualified to join the conversation at all, even though on a purely intellectual level I can grasp the concept of what is racist and what is not.<br /><br />As someone who's read comic books for most of my life, though, I do feel qualified to defend Marvel Comics' creative decision, regardless of whether or not they appreciate the gesture. <br /><br />The "Ultimate" Marvel line was conceived around eleven or twelve years ago when Bill Jemas and Joe Quesada assumed control over Marvel Comics as a solution to the fact that over the last forty years, the universe created by Stan Lee and his various collaborator/artists had gotten so bogged down in continuity issues accumulated over time that the original magic of the characters and books had dissipated or at least become severely diluted. The idea was to recapture what originally made the various titles special when they came out in the 60s, but this time without all the baggage, and with a "modern" twist. <br /><br />The result worked at first; Peter Parker, a twenty-something married man in the "regular" Marvel Universe was a teenager again, stripped of all of the added flab of decades of stories, many of them shoddy, that had come with his going from teen to adult over a nearly-forty-year period. Teams like the Avengers, X-Men and Fantastic Four, all of which had been turned inside-out and upside-down by decades of different stories as well as bad editorial decisions, and periodic status quo shakeups were restored to their purest, nascent states. <br /><br />The problem with serialized fiction in which the characters' adventures continue indefinitely is that while there is a beginning, there is rarely a middle or an end to these characters and their development, and while the Ultimate line was created to replicate the early years of Marvel but with a twist, it would, as the years went on, gradually start to find itself saddled with its own continuity and history issues. <br /><br />Not only that, but because of the success of the "Ultimate" line, the powers-that-be at Marvel wanted to transplant its "real-world" vibe into the main line of comics, and as a result the line's writers, Brian Michael Bendis and Mark Millar were placed on books like <span style="font-style:italic;">The Avengers</span> and <span style="font-style:italic;">Spider-Man</span>, and for better or worse, the mainstream Marvel Universe, after a fashion, did start to resemble its "Ultimate" counterpart in terms of the tone of storytelling, particularly during the <span style="font-style:italic;">Civil War</span> event engineered by Marvel, with Mark Millar's seven-part miniseries at the forefront. <br /><br />Marvel then became a victim of its own success. Having successfully "updated" the mainstream Marvel Universe to be more like its "ultimate" counterpart, Marvel effectively rendered the "ultimate" line obsolete, and as a result the "ultimate" books' sales began to drop. <br /><br />Now, one thing Marvel could have done would have been to let the line "lie fallow" to use an agricultural term, and revisit it some other time with new stories and ideas, but seeing as how it's in the business of selling comic books, its editorial made the decision to shake things up, first by killing off a whole slew of characters in a line-wide event entitled "<span style="font-style:italic;">Ultimatum</span>." Casualties of this little "holocaust" included several members of the Ultimate versions of the X-Men and the Avengers, and as a result the Ultimate version of the Fantastic Four broke up, with Reed Richards apparently becoming a bad guy. The comic books were then relaunched with new #1 issues and some tweaks to the creative teams.<br /><br />There was a momentary spike in sales, but even with the relaunch the titles didn't sell nearly as well as they did in their heydays, and sales dropped right back to earth in fairly short order. <br /><br />It made sense that they would, even though major characters like Wolverine, Cyclops, Magneto and a couple of Avengers had been killed off, most of the audience whose interest in comics had been piqued by the Ultimate line had either jumped over to the mainstream, "616" Marvel Universe. After all, in the time that had lapsed since the launch of the Ultimate universe, Spider-Man's marriage to Mary Jane had been retroactively annulled (and not in the legal sense) the Avengers had become "cool" again thanks to an infusion of new members that included Spider-Man and Wolverine, and the X-men...well, thanks to a bunch of gimmicks like "M day" and a presumably talented slew of writers, had managed to win much of its audience back. There was nothing in the Ultimate line of comic books that people couldn't see by reading the main line of Marvel Comics. <br /><br />By killing and replacing Peter Parker with another Spider-Man, was finally able to effectively convey the message to their readers that they had tried to make with all of their shock-value deaths in "Ultimatum:" in the Ultimate universe, ANYTHING can happen. <br /><br />What definitely annoys about the widespread reaction to the switch is the fact that before the decision was made, sales of the Ultimate Spider-Man title had been dropping like a stone. Fewer and fewer people cared about the line or that particular iteration of the character, who had arguably become superfluous now that "616" Peter Parker was "young" again by virtue of being a swinging single. Had Peter Parker not been killed, readers would have continued to bail out until there would be simply no justifying the existence of the comic book.<br /><br />Besides, the Ultimate line, the way I see it, was always intended to be a venue for experimentation, for attempts to tell stories involving Marvel's beloved characters which could not, by editorial mandate, be told given the constraints of the "616" universe. Here, Cap could be a right-wing borderline fascist. Here, Thor could be a smelly hippy mistaken for a paranoid schizophrenic. Here, Hulk could actually kill people when on a rampage, whether or not they were bad guys. Here, Black Widow could be a murderous double agent, and Wolverine could actually want to kill Cyclops, and vice versa. The Ultimate has always existed just beyond the boundaries of what was possible in the regular Marvel Universe. Some of the ideas were good, and some bad, but to me it's to Marvel's credit that they allow these tweaks to happen. <br /><br />And so I think that Miles Morales' introduction as the new Spider-Man is in line with the spirit of some of the first "ultimate" stories in that it puts a new spin on an old favorite. Some people may like it and others may not, and if it's the latter then Marvel will certainly go back to the drawing board, but casual fans who don't read the "Ultimate" line and who are complaining about Morales' race should either read the "Ultimate" comic books to understand the spirit in which this kind of story is told or should just shut the heck up and stop exposing themselves for the closet racists that many of them probably are. Not only that, but the people who are familiar with the "Ultimate Spider-Man" line and who abandoned it only to complain about the switch should really be ashamed of themselves; they're the ones who put Ultimate Peter Parker in his grave, not any "PC" agenda of editorial.<br /><br />Finally, having read and enjoyed the first two issues of this title, I find it consistent with the experience I had when reading Mark Millar's and Bryan Hitch's "Ultimates" for the first time, in that what was old became new again, and I'm willing to give this direction a try.Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-25710503704516792982011-08-16T07:41:00.001-07:002011-10-03T01:44:34.663-07:00Toy StoriesA proud tradition of franchise movies dating back to <span style="font-style:italic;">Star Wars</span>, if not even earlier, is the sale of film-related merchandise, in particular toys. <br /><br />I remember the Star Wars toys of the 80s, even though I didn't own a whole lot of them (I may have owned a small, Kenner-manufactured Tie Fighter at one point but I'm not even sure). But I have seen a fair share of <span style="font-style:italic;">Star Wars</span> related merchandise, and back then it looked really good, and boy, did it make a lot of money. <br /><br />The tradition has been carried on by some filmmakers and their toy-tie-in partners; within the last decade, toys and merchandise from the first <span style="font-style:italic;">Cars</span> film and its spinoffs made something like eight BILLION dollars, an obscenely large amount of money by almost anyone's standards, which by itself justified the making of a sequel, <span style="font-style:italic;">Cars 2</span>, probably better than any box-office figures ever could. So Disney has continued the <span style="font-style:italic;">Star Wars</span> tradition. Of course, with its myriad of new Hasbro action figures and vehicles <span style="font-style:italic;">Clone Wars</span> Lego sets, one could say that the makers of <span style="font-style:italic;">Star Wars</span> themselves are continuing the <span style="font-style:italic;">Star Wars</span> tradition.<br /><br />Curiously, though, apart from Disney and Lucasfilm, there appears to have been a lot of dropping of the ball in terms of selling movie-related toys lately.<br /><br />Now, I don't collect movie-themed toys (or action figures in general) but I remain a fan of toys, and I certainly admire well-made ones, which is why I'm a little disappointed that a lot of the movie-related toys I see around are not that well-made, and in some cases, not made at all.<br /><br />The latest X-Men film, <span style="font-style:italic;">X-Men: First Class</span>, for example, has had almost no licensed toy products to speak of save a line of Minimates, an oddity considering that every X-Men film that came before it had a comprehensive toy line up, with figures and vehicles. Heck, <span style="font-style:italic;">X-Men 2</span> even had a tie-up with a manufacturer of die-cast model cars to produce the Mazda RX-8 that appeared in it. <br /><br />The <span style="font-style:italic;">Thor</span> toys were just crappy, which is disappointing considering the meticulous detail poured in the the Marvel Legends toys, even the ones produced after Marvel entered into a deal with Hasbro for all of its toys (which Marvel used to produce themselves through their "Toy Biz" company). The toys are small and lacking in detail. Ironically, for the <span style="font-style:italic;">Green Lantern </span>toys, Mattel followed the Marvel strategy of marketing a set of different action figures with the parts of a much bigger figure enclosed among the individual figures. Of course, considering <span style="font-style:italic;">GL</span> was a box-office flop, this strategy did not amount to much, but at least they were aggressive with their toys, even marketing Hot Wheels cars with GL branding. But <span style="font-style:italic;">Thor</span>, a successful movie, made a whole bunch of toys that kids may or may not buy, but which, I feel, are not likely to be terribly attractive to collectors, now or in the future. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Captain America: The First Avenger</span> was another disappointment; despite all of the cool, visually striking retro-futuristic vehicles that appear in the film, the only vehicles that show up in toy stores are crappy G.I.Joe knockoff jeeps, motorbikes and APCs, NONE of which actually APPEAR in the movie! Where's Red Skull's awesome six-wheeled car? The giant bomber that was central to the movie's climax? Hell, where's Cap's Harley and the Hydra agents' bikes? Nowhere to be found. At least Hot Toys is coming up with an amazing looking 1/6 doll of Captain America, but that's only for hardcore collectors who have money to burn. Kids and casual collectors are less fortunate.<br /><br />Marvel has a diecast partner in Maisto, and when it comes to missing opportunities for toy tie-ins, they appear to have a history of it. <br /><br />Maisto makes diecast cars and motorcycles, with the former being as big as 1/18 scale and the latter being as big as 1/12 scale or maybe even 1/6 scale. They make, among many other things, the Audi R8 or the car driven by Tony Stark in <span style="font-style:italic;">Iron Man</span>. <br /><br />For all of that, though, they never bothered to make an "Iron Man"-themed or packaged car even though the car has, since the 2008 film, been widely identified with Iron Man. Instead they come up with some shitty, generic vehicles with the <span style="font-style:italic;">Iron Man</span> logo printed on their body work. Considering how prominently featured the Audi R8 was in both <span style="font-style:italic;">Iron Man</span> films, Maisto and Marvel, whether it was because of their lawyers or marketing people, missed on a huge opportunity to sell some toys. <br /><br />With <span style="font-style:italic;">Captain America </span> Marvel and Maisto failed yet again to make the most of a great opportunity to sell some toys. Sure, there is a well-conceived line of WWII planes with Captain America logos on them, so at least it trumps Hasbro's ridiculous "G.I. Joe" style vehicles, but Maisto/Marvel still goofed in a big way. In terms of sponsorship, legendary motorcycle manufacturer Harley Davidson is to Cap what Audi was to <span style="font-style:italic;">Iron Man</span>, and because Maisto makes toy Harley Davidsons in varying scales, it represented a great marketing and sales opportunity for everyone concerned, an opportunity they appear to have missed completely.<br /><br />But that's not the worst "toy story" of the year for me. <br /><br />One of the big announcements regarding <span style="font-style:italic;">Transformers: Dark of the Moon</span>, when it went into production last year was that it would feature as one of its characters a Ferrari 458. This, like the <span style="font-style:italic;">Cars</span> films, is a movie franchise that exists mainly to sell toys, especially considering that it was based on an already-existing toy line. Michael Bay HIMSELF announced that a Ferrari 458 would be joining the Autobots, so the car was written into the script. <br /><br />The movie has come out and is, in fact, slowly on its way out of theaters, and the Ferrari made its appearance, but to date, not a single Ferrari Transformers toy has shown up on shelves. It's rumored to show up later this year or early next year, but what's the point of releasing a toy so long after the release of the movie? Whether it's an issue with the lawyers of Mattel (who holds the Ferrari license), or General Motors (whose vehicles are the most prominent in the Transformers franchise), the makers of Transformers fumbled big time in terms of an opportunity to sell what will, if it EVER comes out, most likely be a very popular toy. Ferraris sell, in real life and in toy versions, which is why Mattel shelled out huge amounts of money to lock up the license to make Ferrari toys. If Paramount/Hasbro planned to make a Ferrari Transformer toy, they should have moved Heaven and Earth to do so in time for the film's release. That they didn't speaks very poorly of their marketing strategy.<br /><br />In this economy it is perhaps understandable that people don't go the extra mile to make toys the way Kenner used to for <span style="font-style:italic;">Star Wars</span> and the way a juggernaut like Mattel would for <span style="font-style:italic;">Cars</span>, but as someone who appreciates toys, whether it's the actual craftsmanship or even just the cool packaging, I can't help but be disappointed by the lackadaisical attitude of some of the makers of today's movie-related toys; it's almost as if they just rush whatever they can shove onto shelves in time for the movie's release instead of taking the time and effort to make and market toys of <span style="font-style:italic;">Star Wars</span> level quality. A shame, really.Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-83142349916966828942011-08-07T18:20:00.000-07:002011-08-09T21:44:55.827-07:00Hey Catholic Church, Are We Really Gonna Do This Again?Five years ago, the Catholic Church railed against the evil known as the film adaptation of Dan Brown's <span style="font-style:italic;">The Da Vinci Code</span>. They called for a boycott by all the faithful of the film, which ended up grossing three quarters of a billion dollars at the global box-office despite almost uniformly bad reviews. In short, in spite of their exhortations, and quite possibly because of them, people went to see the movie, possibly because they wanted to see why so many people were kicking up such a fuss.
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<br />Nowadays, the local Catholic Church of the Philippines is again foaming at the mouth over somebody's art exhibit, which they claim is blasphemous. After somewhat heated protests and an act of vandalism by unidentified persons on the exhibit, its curator has agreed to close it down for security reasons.
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<br />I won't go into the whole debate on Freedom of Expression, which to my knowledge is being much more eloquently articulated elsewhere, but I will point out how ironic it is that to get the exhibit closed down the people against it, many of them dyed-in-the-wool Catholics, turned to Imelda Marcos, widow of Ferdinand Marcos, who needs no introduction to anyone familiar with Philippine history, and in particular the atrocities performed during the martial law years. It's ironic that it while the Catholic church helped remove the Marcoses from power because of their heinous and decidedly un-Christian treatment of the Filipino people, Catholic adherents (and, I think, even some priests) turned to Imelda for help regarding the perceived desecration of Christianity, like some kind of white knight. To those who think politics makes strange bedfellows, I give you this oddity.
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<br />It's even more ironic that while the early Christians, including most of Christ's twelve apostles, were martyred in some of the most spectacularly brutal ways imaginable (with one saint even being sawed in half while alive), members of today's Catholic Church is apparently in the business of creating martyrs by siccing ex-dictator's widows on people who make them angry.
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<br />The thing is, though, that by bullying the curators of the exhibit into shutting it down, as they once bullied the MTRCB to give <span style="font-style:italic;">The Da Vinci Code</span> an "R" rating, the Church and the fundamentalists ranting beside them have done nothing but drum up publicity for a person who, based on what I've seen, is little more than a hack trying to get attention. The <span style="font-style:italic;">DVC</span> has been described by some as a lousy movie based on a lousy book, but people who would otherwise have been completely indifferent to it ended up watching it because of all of the noise.
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<br />I have no love for people who use shock value to promote themselves or their work and this person is no exception, but I think the people that person offended went about handling their wounded feelings incorrectly; to put it another way, they fell for the bait, hook, line and sinker.
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<br />This artist, whom I will not name as I have no interest in promoting this person one way or another, is an individual of dubious talent who, thanks to strident protestations, is now a champion for all those who despise the church, and will live on in infamy or fame depending on one's inclinations. I'm pretty sure that outside of the people inclined to attend such exhibits, the average juan remained blissfully unaware of the existence of that person or exhibit until both were trumpeted in the media thanks to the Church.
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<br />Fortunately, in a country with very short-term memory this person will soon be forgotten, but had the usual gang just managed to keep their cool, perhaps there would be even less for people to remember.
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<br />This is not a victory for the fundamentalists and priests and whoever thinks they've struck a blow for their faith; it's a victory for shock value and the artists willing to have themselves figuratively martyred to get their fifteen minutes in the spotlight.
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<br />Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-23970873059537543232011-06-02T02:05:00.000-07:002011-06-02T20:35:06.406-07:00On Things Fragile and EternalI am hardly what one would call a Neil Gaiman connoisseur. I don't think I've read any of the collections of Sandman comic books (graphic novel sounds consummately pretentious), and if I have I'm fairly sure I haven't read them all the way through; I think I've only read the second <span style="font-style:italic;">Death</span> miniseries in its entirety, and I haven't read any of his novels.<br /><br />I have read <span style="font-style:italic;">Stardust</span>, and was disappointed to find out that it wasn't a comic book but rather a heavily-illustrated novel, and his only two works (so far) for Marvel Comics, the<span style="font-style:italic;"> Marvel: 1602</span> hardcover, and his seven-issue <span style="font-style:italic;">Eternals</span> miniseries, the latter of which I doggedly collected in individual issue format for nine months on account not only of Gaiman's intriguing writing but also on John Romita Jr.'s sterling artwork. I enjoyed <span style="font-style:italic;">Stardust</span> but actually liked Matthew Vaughn's film adaptation nine years later even more. I liked 1602 for its novelty and decidedly different take on the Marvel Universe. Finally, I liked <span style="font-style:italic;">The Eternals</span> too but found it seriously flawed, largely on account of the fact that from the very beginning it was designed to whet readers' appetites for the adventures of the Eternals set in the Marvel Universe more than it was to tell its own, complete story. Left to his own devices, Gaiman could have given so much more than he did, even though what he came up with was already quite formidable.<br /><br />Now that I'm reading <span style="font-style:italic;">Fragile Things</span>, though, I'm coming to see whole new side of Gaiman's work, one I barely glimpsed in the prose of <span style="font-style:italic;">Stardust</span>, which has not only increased my already considerable respect for him as a writer but has whetted my appetite for more of his work. I won't give a blow-by-blow review of the short stories contained in the book, but I will say that I enjoy the voices Gaiman gives to his characters, and the worlds he takes me to, some of which may actually exist in my own. He's not much one for the "twist ending" though there are a few of them in the stories, particularly the ghost stories, but the charm is more in how he takes me to the point where he turns the tables on me, such that even if the twist may be predictable in the end, I've enjoyed myself so much that it doesn't matter. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Fragile Things</span> is one of those rare things I've not had the pleasure of reading in a while; one of those books that I read sloooowly (and I'm a slow reader to begin with) because I'm in no hurry for my reading experience to end.Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-18686267826839135062011-05-23T02:49:00.000-07:002011-05-23T03:24:04.065-07:00A Different WorldI'll be direct: I'm one of the millions of people who thinks Rebecca Black's <span style="font-style:italic;">Friday</span> is complete and utter shit. Like the folks behind <span style="font-style:italic;">Glee</span>, though I cannot deny that, for the moment at least, Black is now part of the global pop-culture landscape, all thanks to a little thing called youtube. <br /><br />This little piece isn't really about Black: it's about how making so much of pop culture available for online viewing free of charge has really had game-changing effects. Justin Bieber was discovered thanks to youtube. A whole new generation of kids has discovered Michael Bolton thanks to his participation in Lonely Island's "Jack Sparrow" single. Some films (the ones whose distributors have not yet managed to find and remove all copies of them from youtube), have found whole new audiences, as have songs and performances. Suddenly, to paraphrase Julia Roberts, anyone with a digital camera and internet access can be a cinematographer, and suddenly, getting noticed by people is no longer a matter who you know but a matter of what you know how to do, i.e. upload videos of yourself. <br /><br />I find the possibilities endlessly interesting.Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-55520869815088512122011-05-19T23:33:00.001-07:002011-05-19T23:39:24.452-07:00Patriotic Porsche<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr3T-n4YarddKPer3WD8f0gzG4VtenLCvzyvq60TZzsVGORbusMgt-uyUgfNj02SHh4ai-e3PVkcoxrnMSa5xVavndTLquZXCmx0ltMO-ntLt7TtCahGrfnWU0NhK4Mljn7EB0qg/s1600/AAGT2HR.j.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr3T-n4YarddKPer3WD8f0gzG4VtenLCvzyvq60TZzsVGORbusMgt-uyUgfNj02SHh4ai-e3PVkcoxrnMSa5xVavndTLquZXCmx0ltMO-ntLt7TtCahGrfnWU0NhK4Mljn7EB0qg/s320/AAGT2HR.j.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608683115243748866" /></a><br /><br />Taken at the House of Representatives.<br /><br />Wait...considering that Porsche is a German brand, maybe it isn't patriotic of it to pose next to the Philippine flag? Oh well...<br /><br />(Maybe next time I'll try taking a pic at Malacanang)...Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10203030.post-24176612554619388662011-05-19T23:32:00.001-07:002011-05-19T23:32:48.253-07:00One More Post to Go...Random thought for this post: Spongebob Squarepants is the new Mickey Mouse.Jim Arroyohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10290262481362963567noreply@blogger.com0