Saturday, March 03, 2007
DC Comics’ J’onn J’onzz, also known as the Martian Manhunter, is the last son of Mars. He came from a millennia-dead civilization of shapechangers and telepaths. That ancient world is as different from ours as Paulo Coelho’s pen is from my wretched little asshole. On the other hand, Paulo’s pen is very similar to my asshole since both produce fine specimens of artsyfartsy crap. Anyway, the point is that the ancient Martian civilization is exceedingly strange compared to ours. For one thing, the ability to change their physical forms at will instantly makes physiological beauty unimportant to them. For another, being a perfectly telepathic people removes the bullshit factor from the social table. And that, I submit, is simply tragic. Bullshit in its many permutations is the currency of the world.
Bullshit makes the hunt for a friendly fuck interesting. You spot a hot chick. Your irascible little member stirs in your pants. She meets your eye. You swagger like John fucking Wayne across the room, your six-shot cocked and ready. You make conversation, convincing yourself that what you smell is the warm oyster perfume of her cunt. You drop little pieces of bullshit in the stew, making yourself seem wealthier and more successful than you really are. She touches her hair. Or bites her lip. She’s buying the Brooklyn Bridge. You initiate the first step towards fornication. She blows you away with a sarcastic remark. Because she’s been bullshitting you too. She doesn’t want some random shmuck picking her up in a bar. She was just leading you on because she needed to feel desired. You turn emo and start a sissy-ass band.
Bullshit may save you from a beating. You’re walking down the street looking tough so no one would think you’re gay. You spot a fucktard with enough spunk to meet your eye. Manly staring contest ensues. What the fuck are you looking at? It’s quickly headed for a scrap. But you’re big and you emit manliness like a Quezon Avenue streetwalker emits the wonderful stench of venereal disease. Never mind that the last fight you’ve been in was way back in high school when you got your intestines handed to you. Fucktard backs away. You rule, motherfucker.
There you go. Bullshit. We say we hate it but we’re all swimming in it. And in the final reckoning of our worldly existence we’ll discover how we all dish it out in more or less equal proportions. We need bullshit. Bullshit works. Pretension is our nature. We drink it like water and breathe it like air. Bullshit is so vital in fact that governments institutionalize its generation.
One such bullshit generator is the University of the Philippines.
I was recently in a café in Los Baños when I overhead a couple of college instructors-- one young and one old-- lamenting the fact that UP students, upon graduation, mostly gain employment as call center agents instead of finding jobs that have a semblance of connection with their degrees. I don’t know about other schools but UP culture tends to look down at call center employees. Actually, UP culture tends to look down at a lot of things. Other schools, for instance. UP, I must say, is so mired in its own bullshit that students actually think employers will line up before them, ready to suck their cocks for the chance to employ them. I can’t blame the students, of course, because when I was a college boy I was fed from the same crock of filth myself.
Upon graduation, UP students suddenly realize the extent of the bullshit. No, employers aren’t lining up to suck their cocks. No, being a UP graduate does not mean you’ll be paid a dragon’s hoard on a monthly basis. Tough titty. Despite the situation being as it is, UP graduates still hold on to their illusions about the greatness of their school. A former classmate of mine in UP Los Baños came to me one day ranting about his call center boss. From what I gathered, he resented the way his boss was always correcting him. The clincher, or so he said, was when he learned that his boss graduated from AMA. He said it like the revelation was a triumph in itself. I told him that I thought his brain’s broken. I also asked him: if being a UP alumnus is so great then why are you the grunt while the AMA graduate is the boss? He stopped coming to my house. I probably should’ve left him with his illusions but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve seen all this before and as I see more of it I’m starting to think that the only thing great about UP is the amount of bullshit it feeds its students. In my line of work, I see that the most creative minds and the most imaginative souls do not come from UP. What comes from UP is just plain arrogance. Okay, that was unfair. Being an expert on awesomeness, I can say that imagination and creativity are found in almost equal proportions in all schools, including UP. It’s just that a lot of times, UP bullshit overshadows the talent.
Keep the bullshit coming.