On Gods and Dogs
Most of us forget that dogs are around because our species created theirs. And as we seek succor in our gods, dogs seek succor in us.
On Steve Jobs
There's no denying that Steve Jobs was one of the great minds that had been shaping the 21st Century until his death. But before we beatify him, let's not forget that Apple products are designed to turn people into sheep. Let's not forget that your iPad was put together in a sweatshop by minors. And let's not forget that Steve Jobs was also one of the nastiest and greediest bastards who walked the earth.
The constant raids against street vendors may be great for photo ops and PR but the actual pirates are the huge syndicates who burn movies into discs. I wish there would be less news about vendors getting shafted yet again and more news about the big fish behind the syndicates being thrown in jail. What's that? None of these people have been arrested yet? As in, ever?
Half of my weekend is gone and I have nothing to show for it. Thank you, SimCity.
On Fairy Tales
That's how it happens. That's how we start desperately believing in fairy tales. Fear. Someone says Facebook will start charging subscribers unless they do something as illogical as posting an all-caps message for their status update and it spreads like cancer. You know it's silly but your fear of losing touch with the rest of the wired world makes you do it anyway. Now imagine if someone tells you that you have a soul and it will roast in everlasting supernatural fire unless you believe in ancient books. Faith does not feed on love. It feeds on fear. Question everything, friends.
On Lost Friends
Some friends drift away and become strangers. We all have our journeys. Yet the currents that have taken them away may still bring them back someday.
You're not happy because you're not pretty enough, or you're not smart enough, or you're not successful enough, or you're not famous enough, or you're not thin enough, or you're not sexy enough, or you're not healthy enough, or you're not recognized enough, or you're not praised enough, or you're not in love enough, or you're not young enough, or you're not old enough, or you don't earn enough money, or you don't have enough friends, or you don't have enough respect, or you don't have enough orgasms, or your dick isn't big enough, or your tits aren't big enough, or any of the myriad things that you do not have enough of. But think about it: the happiest people around you are those who most lack in substance and in imagination and in ambition. So stop worrying about not being happy enough. Not happy enough is the default condition of the human race.
One of these days, Squiddo, someone will punch you in the guts for being too opinionated.
On Bad Memories
I suppose we all have those bad high school memories hiding like thieves in our brains and waiting to pounce upon us when we least expect them. High school is the kingdom of extroverts and brutes. Those of us who were more inclined to looking inward didn't go far up the food chain unless we totally denied who we were and became cool. No one ever told us that we shouldn't sweat it because it's just four years and the rest of our lives would be spent with people who actually like us for who we are. I think I survived high school because I didn't give too much of a fuck if I was the weird kid who wrote book reports for money and painted skulls on his pants. If I can't be cool I would embrace weirdness, I thought. I'm now 36 years old and I still wear my hair long and paint my nails black and wear skull T-shirts to work. Yeah, I embraced the weirdness alright.
Mabuti nang amoy baul, basta huwag lang amoy ataol.
Payong kaibigan lang. Hindi naidadaan sa pilitan ang pag-ibig.
On Emotional Logic
The first thing you'll learn as a mainstream writer is that emotional logic trumps garden variety logic because Filipinos are an emotional people and a lot of us think with our hearts. For good or ill. As an example: The protagonist runs after the girl in the airport because he didn't tell her he loves her when he had the chance and he now faces a lifetime of regret if he doesn't catch her before she boards that plane. Garden variety logic would tell him that this is the 21st century and that there are a bajillion ways to contact her. Emotional logic makes him incapable of seeing past the image of the girl who is getting away. The sad reality is that emotional logic applied to real-life problems is usually disastrous.
On Beast and Angels
We're closer to animals than we are to angels. And that we should take care of this planet not because of some divine charge to subdue it but because we're at the top of the food chain and now have the power to destroy all of it, including ourselves.
On Growing Old
In our sixties, we can start being righteous and forget how we once took happiness when we could.
Work like an architect. Get treated like unskilled labor.
On Robin Padilla
Nabangga ako ni Robin Padilla sa hallway. Shet, baka buntis na ako.
You have to understand that I love Goya Dark Chocolate. I'm absolutely crazy about it. I'll run naked and screaming around the neighborhood if that's what it takes to get one. If it was an illegal substance, I'd break the law to get it. If the only way it can be consumed is by snorting it like cocaine, I'd go through a mountain of it like Tony Montana. If the goddamned Batman was standing between me and a stash of Goya Dark Chocolate, I'd risk multiple bone fractures to get just one bar. THAT is how much I love Goya Dark Chocolate, dear Internet friends.
A well-respected friend asked me some time ago if I had a happy childhood. I thought about it for a moment. My parents weren't rich but we ate three meals a day and we had colored TV. I liked books and cartoons more than I liked hanging around with friends but I did have friends. My parents whupped me when I deserved a whupping but they never beat the living shit outta me. I never had a lot of toys but I knew early on that there are more important things to buy than toys. That lack only served to develop my creativity. My brothers weren't mean, except for one time I got punched in the guts for being a pest like all little brothers are. But I saw that my brother regretted it and I never even thought of telling my parents about it. So did I have a happy childhood? Pretty much. Sorry, no punch line here.
Do I consider myself Catholic? Well, I was born into a Catholic family so I was baptized as one without my consent and went through all the motions until I left home. But non-practicing Catholics, while refusing to go to church and take part in the rituals for various reasons, still believe in the core teachings of that religion. I don't. Even as a child, I thought priests were full of shit. So, no, I don't think of myself as a Catholic, non-practicing or otherwise.
This is called the second lead bad guy ponytail. You know, the psychopath you have to kill before you get to the main villain.
On Paolo Coelho
"Everyday God gives us a moment to change everything that makes us unhappy. Use it."
Dear Mr. Coelho: Six million Jews are calling from beyond the grave to tell you that you're full of shit.