Fuel Filling Tips

I just thought this information will be useful to all vehicle owners.  In financially challenging times, I sincerely hope your travel (i.e. road trip) plans won't be spoiled by the rising (sometimes fluctuating) cost of fuel.  I'm sure you'd rather hear your children ask "Are we there yet?" than not hear them at all due to your inability to compete with the attention they give to their online buddies.

A friend sent this useful information through group email.  I'm thankful that there are still people that are thoughtful enough to consider other people's general financial well being.  I just thought I'd pay this forward.  May you have enjoyable and safe road trips.  

Tips on Filling your Vehicles...

This is a Message received from a friend:

I don't know what you guys are paying for petrol... but here in Durban, we are also paying higher, up to 47.35 per litre. But my line of work is in petroleum for about 31 years now, so here are some tricks to get more of your money's worth for every litre.

Here at the Marian Hill Pipeline, where I work in Durban, we deliver about 4 million litres in a 24-hour period thru the pipeline.

One day is diesel; the next day is jet fuel, and petrol, LRP and Unleaded. We have 34-storage tanks here with a total capacity of 16,800,000 litres.

ONLY BUY OR FILL UP YOUR CAR OR BIKKIE IN THE EARLY MORNING WHEN THE GROUND TEMPERATURE IS STILL COLD.

Remember that all service stations have their storage tanks buried below ground. The colder the ground, the denser the fuel, when it gets warmer petrol expands, so buying in the afternoon or in the evening.... your litre is not exactly a litre.

In the petroleum business, the specific gravity and the temperature of the petrol, diesel and jet fuel, ethanol and other petroleum products play an important role. A 1degree rise in temperature is a big deal for this business. But the service stations do not have temperature compensation at the pumps.

WHEN YOU'RE FILLING UP, DO NOT SQUEEZE THE TRIGGER OF THE NOZZLE TO A FAST MODE.

If you look, you will see that the trigger has three (3) stages: low,middle, and high. In slow mode, you should be pumping on low speed, thereby minimizing the vapours that are created, while you are pumping. All hoses at the pump have a vapour return. If you are pumping on the fast rate, some of the liquid that goes to your tank becomes vapour. Those vapours are being sucked up and back into the underground storage tank so you're getting less worth for your money.

ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT TIPS IS TO FILL UP WHEN YOUR TANK IS HALF FULL. The reason for this is, the more fuel you have in your tank, the less air occupying its empty space. Petrol evaporates faster than you can imagine. Petroleum storage tanks have an internal floating roof. This roof serves as zero clearance between the petrol and the atmosphere, so it minimizes the evaporation.

Unlike service stations, here where I work, every truck that we load is temperature compensated, so that every litre is actually the exact amount.

ANOTHER REMINDER, IF THERE IS A FUEL TRUCK PUMPING INTO THE STORAGE TANKS, WHEN YOU STOP TO BUY, DO NOT FILL UP - most likely the petrol/diesel is being stirred up as the fuel is being delivered, and you might pick up some of the dirt that normally settles on the bottom.

Hope, this will help you get the maximum value for your money.

DO SHARE THESE TIPS WITH OTHERS! LET’S SHARE INFORMATION AND BENEFIT ALL, FOR THE BETTER OF MANKIND.

Compiled by Ramesh Patel on 16.03.2008

Things that make you go Hmmm 2

I watched the sports news on local TV during my lunch break. The Pacquiao and Dela Hoya fight is 10 days from now. Manny is still 6 pounds short of the weight class that he will fight in. On the other camp, Oscar is now maintaining his new yet much lighter weight.

As expected, both camps are already claiming premature victory. Freddie Roach seem really confident of Manny's heightened skills in spite of his elevated weight. While Oscar's shoulder portents to be a potential problem area, his camp is confident nonetheless.

Angelo Mirena a.k.a Angelo Dundee is Dela Hoya's new coach. He says Oscar can easily figure out Manny since Pacquiao has been a "one-sided fighter ever since".

Hmmm...One-sided? Did Morales, Marquez, Barrera, Ledwaba, Naseem, Velasquez, Larios, Diaz, etc etc etc. fought and lost against the same 'one-side'?

One sided....Rriiigght.

Shopping with Husbands in tow.

I got this from a sent email. The sender friend of mine is either bored at work or just trying to lighten up the mid-week blahs.

BANNED FROM WAL-MART...

This is why women should not take men shopping against their will. After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany her on her trips to Wal-Mart. Unfortunately, like most men, I found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunately, my wife is like most women – she loves to browse. Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter from the local Wal-Mart:

Dear Mrs. Samsel,

Over the past six months, your husband has been causing quite a commotion

in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and have been forced to ban both

of you from the store. Our complaints against Mr. Samsel are listed below and

are documented by our video surveillance cameras.

1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's

carts when they weren't looking.

2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in house wares to go off at 5-minute

intervals.

3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the

women's restroom.

4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice,

'Code 3 in housewares. Get on it right away.'

5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of

M&M's on layaway.

6. August 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted

area.

7. August 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told other

shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from

the bedding department.

8. August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying

and screamed, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?'

9. September 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a

mirror while he picked his nose.

10. September 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked

the clerk where the antidepressants were.

11. October 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly humming

the ' Mission Impossible' theme.

12. October 6: In the auto department, he practiced his ' Madonna

look' by using different sizes of funnels.

13. October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through,

yelled 'PICK ME! PICK ME!'

14. October 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he

assumed a fetal position and screamed 'OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES

AGAIN!'

And last, but not least.

15. October 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile,

then yelled very loudly, 'Hey! There's no toilet paper in here!'

We're Ovulating!

My wife and I went to the OB-GYN 3 weeks ago for a checkup. If you must know, I was also included in the checkup.  Though I was only interviewed by the lady doctor, I didn't have to be physically examined like my wife was.  Thank God.

The Asian Hospital and Medical Center in Alabang is the hospital we decided to have ourselves examined. Also, when we get pregnant, we want to give birth in a hospital where it feels as if you're visiting a classy hotel.  I want our baby to feel the luxury the minute he or she comes out into this world....Oooowkaaay...who am I kidding... you're right. I'm the one who wants to feel luxurious, my wife too.

Anyway, when it came our turn to see the doctor, I immediately felt calm, more like comforted. She was really nice to tell us that it's alright to not get pregnant yet on the eighth month of marriage. Doktora CJ (her nickname) told us we need to relax.  You know, that sort of spiel they give to newly weds trying to conceive.  What disarmed us was when she asked us to pray with her. Yes, pray...as in talk to God.  It was at that instant I felt we were in good hands. So we prayed with her for a successful conception.  This may sound sappy but that was the first time a doctor made me feel touched and blessed. 

Doktora CJ asked us to proceed to the ultrasound room. I was given orders to go for a sperm analysis but was instructed to take it (or give it) next month for if and when my wife gets her monthly period.  Hmmm...my own "swimmers" in a cup...interesting blog that would be.

We were prepped  for a transvaginal ultrasound. Actually, just my wife. I held her hand (give me some credit) and tried to figure out what the images on the TV screen were. The ultrasound doktora said: "You're ovulating!" I gave her a mildly excited "Yay!" and asked: "Ummm... What does that mean?" with a silly ignoramus grin on my face. My wife lovingly slapped my arm as if saying: "Idiot!" Then she gave us the summary of the diagnosis for us to relay to doktora CJ. 

My wife, upon reaching home, immediately texted doktora CJ the diagnosis of the ultrasound. The doctor replied: 

"Praise and thank God, u did ovulate. Pls hve sex 2nite and tmrw nite. And wl pray hard!"

Who said prayerful doctors are boring? I just verified it. God does have a sense of humor.

My wife and I had the best belly laugh that day.  Pray with us.  We'd like to bring children to this world that will contribute to the betterment of humanity, however small.  We hope you would, too.

I dozed off watching Hatton vs Malignaggi

Sunday noon is usually fight day (or fight night in viva Las Vegas) in lazy Manila time.  While we usually wait for our bulalos, sinigangs, and adobos to get cooked, my brother and I tune in to undercard fights of up and coming boxers.  On a good fight day, we can discover new fighters who may face a bright future in the sport.  Unfortunately, our very own Boom Boom Bautista's undercard fight did not impress the judges score card decisions in his fight yesterday against Heriberto Ruiz.  It's actually the Boholano's second loss in Sin City. Well, the guy  is young and he still has a lot going for him. 

On the other hand, the main event (Ricky Hatton vs Paulie Malignaggi) had big name celebrities witnessing the over-hyped event.  Italian stallion Sly Stallone and highest paid footballer David Beckham supported Malignaggi and Hatton respectively.  Yes, I did say over-hyped.  It was as if excitement got stuck in the Baccarat tables and decided to not attend the highly publicized fight.  Even if the MGM Grand Garden was packed and as noisy as a football stadium, the drowning chants of Englishmen sounded already celebratory as Hatton dominated the fight from the time the bell clanged for round 1. Paulie "The Magic Man" Malignaggi failed to show his magic. His lazy right hand seemed as if it took the whole day off. His double left jabs, though sharp and snappy, only slapped Hatton's face for mere points. In the end, them points fell short as well. In the 11th round, the fight was stopped at the request of Malignaggi's corner. His corner men waved their white towels to take him away from more punishment.  Besides, Malignaggi stopped throwing punches.  The Magic Man was dismayed.  So was I. He should've taken the fall. That would've made the fight less lousy.

While 'tis true that Hatton has the power, he does not have the lightning fast skills of Pacquiao.  Had it been Pacquiao that fought Malignaggi, The Magic Man would've kissed the canvas before the fifth round.  If this is the Ricky Hatton that is hungry for Manny Pacquiao, then the Hit Man needs a higher and faster caliber "gun".  The Pinoy Pac Man will gobble him whole, with his ho-hum skills.  

In my opinion, Hatton can whoop Manny's ass... in speaking proper English.

Nigella Bites: I've been bitten!

I enjoy watching cooking shows as much as I enjoy tasting new and exotic dishes.   There was a time when cooking shows were few and far between.  Philippine TV in the 70s and 80s even had shows placed only on Sunday morning time slots after televised Catholic mass and Christian TV evangelists. There was even one that had a Fookien-speaking chef.  As I expected, he was a fast and flashy chef that made utensils twirl like a majorette and pots make noise like it was New Year's in Binondo.  The problem was, he spoke and demonstrated in Fookien, and I neither spoke nor grunted in that Chinese language.  

Then Stepen Yan came.  Great cook, amazing showman. Though halting and a tad broken, he spoke good English...and he was funny. He entertained while he cooked, blabbering his mouth like a market vendor, and jabbing his spatulas flamboyantly.  In spite of all the showbiz he flashed, his recipes looked as appetizing as can be. Manila simply raved for Stephey Yan and his Wok With Yan show.  Everyone wanted a Wok in their kitchen. That Yan was the Man! 

When cable TV was made accessible to almost any home, cooking shows became a dime a dozen. The Food Network made a killing with all these chefs that showed off what they can show off.  Various chefs who were funny, had panache, or was simply snooty, all vied for cable viewers' attention. They exuded differing degrees of confidence and sometimes a bit of elitism.  

Then Nigella came. All the qualities of a TV chef I have seen, viewed, critiqued, lambasted, and even cherished have hit a hard and high yet invisible wall.  I was dumbfounded.  She's neither funny nor flashy. Truth is, I see no need for her to be. She had a face suited for royalty, eyes that saw through the camera and direct-hit any viewer, a body like a Greek goddess (Oprah calls her a Domestic Goddess), and a smile that could melt butter in a walk-in freezer.  One episode I watched (and attempted to comprehend), she was mixing this and that, and preparing a bevy of ingredients. In the end, she showed a cake. I was staring too much! No wonder the TV show did a lot of close ups on the ingredients and the utensils.  It is sooo hard not to stare at her! After every show, I'd end up feeling torn. I don't know whether I'm hungry or turned on.

On occassion, I'd have the initiative and energy to prepare the cuisine I recently watched. Not with Nigella's show. I can only gawk.  My wife finds it amusing that I have a crush on her.  Besides, she blushes everytime I tell her she looks like an Ilongga version of Nigella...but prettier.

Norah Jones and Elmo

In my previous post, I wrote about Sesame Street's influence on my childhood. I guess if I keep looking further back, I'm bound to rediscover something.

Well, I did rediscover something. At the risk of sounding stupid and stating the friggin obvious, Sesame Street influenced my adolescent life stage, too.

What am I getting at? Let me explain. I downloaded this video clip a couple of years ago. The first time I watched it, I was mesmerized like a Golden Retriever puppy to his first bouncing tennis ball. Something clicked. My inner child (or whatever psychoanalysts prefer to call it) held hands with my inner adolescent dude (or whatever title sounds "in") and hung out like they were long lost siblings. Elmo, who as far as I can remember was not yet "born" in the 70s, sat with jazz/blues siren Norah Jones while she played piano.

How did I feel when I was watching it for the first time? Honestly, both sappy and turned on. That was the second time I felt excessively sentimental and testosteronal at the same time. Elmo was cute, Norah's face and voice was sooo sexy. Hence, my Inner Child meets my Inner Adolescent bloke. Sesame Street writers are evil geniuses!

If you must know, the first time I felt that way was during my first Karaoke group date with my then future wife. I was a tickled Elmo that night... but that is an entirely different sappy story.

Achmed the Dead Terrorist: Finding humor in the stupidity of racism.

I was a Sesame Street baby, still am. I've been in awe of puppets ever since I got my first Rubber Duckie for my bathtub sessions.  I liked Ernie so much, I mimicked his silly laugh and declared my red and black striped shirt with matching suspenders my official uniform for any type of party.  My brothers have pictures to prove that.  A neighbor constantly ridiculed me and asked where Bert and his pigeons were. Anyway... when I understood the mechanics of the puppets, I had to get my own puppet.  I told my papa and he got me a Nog-Nog boxing puppet. If you were a kid who lived in the Metro Manila in the 70s, you know what I'm talking about. I enjoyed that for a while, and as expected the novelty quickly wore off. Then I got interested in ventriloquists and their puppets.  

Ventriloquists are hilarious people.  I've always thought their sense of humor bordered on the perverse and twisted since they represent themselves as individuals who could make a conversation work even if the conversation is between him and another inanimate puppet made animate by his talent.  You get what I mean, I'm sure.  You've seen ventriloquists since you were a kid. I you haven't, then you must have lived under a rock.

The hilarity of ventriloquism took on a new meaning when I saw Jeff Dunham on YouTube.  I thought, this guy is in serious trouble for his racist jokes which he projects on his character Achmed the Dead Terrorist. True, the jokes are racist but I think it made fun of racism and attempted to transcend the stupidity of racial prejudice. Consequently, it also somehow diffuses apparent tensions across ethnicities.

I'll shut up now...I might over analyze this and defend humor for humor's sake.  Twisted? Maybe...maybe not. I think I've outgrown the naivete of Sesame Street.

Shortest Award-winning Essay

This is too good to pass up and not re-post. I received this email from my alumni yahoo group. My serotonin (feel good chemicals) levels went up.  Humor can indeed be a "cure all" if not a soothing remedy to a slow and lazy day.

This is a story of a 16 year old boy from New Hampshire who won the World's Shortest Essay competition.

He was awarded a scholarship at the University of Harvard for his imagination and humour ....Here's an example of absolute brilliance.. ..

An English university creative writing class was asked to write a concise essay containing the following elements: 
1) Religion    2) Royalty      3) Sex       4) Mystery

The prize-winner wrote:

"My God," said the Queen, "I'm pregnant. I wonder who the father is."

Boodle Fight!

There are weekends when my family gets together for a barbecue, inihaw na panga, liempo, manok, pancit and Pinoy food with matching sawsawang kamatis, bagoong, sibuyas, toyo, suka or patis (Pinoy sauce considered disgusting to foreigners).

Sunday noons are usually set for family lunches. These lunches are made more special whenever somebody is celebrating a birthday, an anniversary, or simply a special get together with family and friends wanting to touch base...or test a new dish.

My nephews, growing boys that they are, normally suggest that the lunch turn into a "boodle fight". "Boodle fight!", my nephews Jeff and Justin would yell. My wife upon hearing the term from my nephews, expressed mild shock. "Ha? Ano yon?" (Eh? What's that?) Being new to my family's eating habits and sensing her unfamiliarity with the term, I explained that a boodle fight is not a violent method of scuffling or grappling. It's a term used by the military and pertains to eating in a seemingly uncivilized manner due to the unavailability of plates and utensils. Kind of like eating primitive style in the jungle or outdoors.

Banana leaves do the trick. We collect dahon ng saging (banana leaves) from the neighbors' backyards...and..voila!... we have "plates" to put the food. I heard somewhere that the banana leaves actually stimulate appetite. No wonder, we all pounce on the food, dig in, and not talk till the chow is obliterated by hungry adolescents and famished adults. Nobody gives a fiddler's fart if it's impolite not to converse on the dinner table. It seems so much more delicious primitively competing with everybody. The satisfaction is so primordial.

The house helps (yayas) are happy. There are few plates and utensils to wash and more food to consume for the next meal. They, too, dig in with us. In boodle fights elders, youngens and house helps are co-equals. Therein lies the beauty of this "fight" that somewhat promotes equanimity.

We rub our bellies, pick on our teeth, and praise God for a hearty meal. I usually pass on the ice cream till later...I'll eat it after my siesta...with Barako coffee. What a life!

Word Salad with Wordle

I came across this delightful site http://www.wordle.net. You can create random designs with any words you paste on the create section of the art site. I have to show this to my nephews and nieces. They might like the Word Clouds this site Wordle can create randomly.

Bloggers might find it interesting how playfully artsy their 'word salads' can play out. I had fun with this. Visit http://www.wordle.net to appreciate. Below are the designs I "created".

I'm going to make me some more....

New York State of Mind

Visiting New York is always a surreal experience. The thought of going to (arguably) "The Greatest City in the World" is such a thrill I can never begin to describe. It was so otherworldly.

The first time I visited Manhattan was when I was 10 years old. My mom had to constantly remind me to close my mouth and walk faster. I didn't care if I looked like an ignorant buffoon who in true to form klutz fashion bumped in to people and said 'excuse me' like a broken record. I didn't even look. Quite rude that was. Being a small town boy from the Philippines, I was in awe of the tall buildings that hurt my neck every time I tried to look up to the peak of the gigantic structures. The people walked so fast I felt like a Lilliputian in Gulliver's hometown. The folks on the street were so interesting I had to stare. Which of course was rude, too. My uncle who resides in New York was amused with me. He knew my eyes were taking in a lot of stimulus and paid no mind to the information overload that could potentially give me culture shock. I need to dig old pictures of that visit.

Two years ago, my brother Jun and I visited. When our plane approached Newark Airport, the buildings of Manhattan and the 5 boroughs of New York were very visible as it was a clear day. I nudged my brother to look at the small plane's window. He smiled like a little boy. It was his first time to see NY. My smile was bigger...much bigger...I felt the same in 1982 but it's a lot more exciting now. I felt such a rush, a tear rolled from the corner of my eye.

I had to tell my brother: "Kuya Jun, Sinatra is singing in my head. New York, New York!" He gave me a hearty laugh and said, "Sa akin din! (Mine, too!). We were laughing our heads off. The flight attendant looked at us as if she knew that Frank Sinatra was belting away inside our brains. She probably heard that hundreds of times.

"IT'S... UP... TO... YOU.., NEW YORK ...., NEW YORK!...papapa dadam papapa dadam papapa dadam...!"

Miho Sings The Blues

This is so unforgettable... This was 2 years ago at a party for exchange students from Japan. Her name is Miho Horino from Sendai, Japan, 16 years old. Miho politely asked us if she could play the guitar and jam with the professional session artists we hired. We said "Sure, by all means". We thought: "Oh well...Why not... we could stand another pop-rock rendition of whatever tune we haven't heard since never". Ms. Miho, wearing the traditional Yukata/Kimono, introduced herself courteously, chatted with the band in halting English. They exchanged smiles and nods. After 2 minutes of simple instructions, she signaled the band to start playing. We thought: "Oh well, here goes. Let her new found Pinoy friends and Japanese colleagues have fun. Teenagers will be teenagers" We were pleasantly surprised! My friends and I never expected this teenage wonder (from the beautiful city of trees of Sendai City, Miyagi Prefecture, Japan) to sing and play the guitar like she was trained by BB King and coached by Ella Fitzgerald. Our eyes popped and our jaws dropped. She charged up the whole ballroom. We became instant fans. Miho is a musical genius! She was simply amazing! Watch! This was August of 2006, my JCI chapter hosted the 16th Miyagi Philippines Youth Exchange Program. The student exchange program aimed to foster cultural exchange between select students from the Miyagi Prefecture, Japan and Paranaque City, Philippines.

Overpriced Crap for Crops...Oh Crap!

After a mind numbing experience while watching the evening news, the psychological term Systematic Desensitization came to mind. When I was in college, I was impressed with this word since every time I used it in conversation or drinking sessions, it would evoke ooohs and aaahhhs. Somehow I felt the gorgeous chicks dig hearing pyscho-babble. So, I used it lots of times to make me look and feel gwapo in the hopes of scoring 'points' with the babes (I was a serial daydreamer). Colloquial American English had a name for it: Smart Ass.

I would boast about my limited knowledge of the systematic method to help phobic patients overcome various irrational fears. And impress my friends it did. I loved that term. I still do....until now.

From Wikipedia:

In psychology, desensitization (also called inurement) is a process for mitigating the harmful effects of phobias or other disorders. It also occurs when an emotional response is repeatedly evoked in situations in which the action tendency that is associated with the emotion proves irrelevant or unnecessary. Agoraphobics, who fear open spaces and social gatherings outside their own home, may be gradually led to increase their interaction with the outside world by putting them in situations that are uncomfortable but not panic-provoking for them. Mastering their anxiety in very small doses can allow them to take greater steps to self-reliance. Desensitization can be an alternative or a supplement to anxiety-reducing medication. Equally valid is that desensitization is the opposite of addiction Animals can also be desensitized to their rational or irrational fears. A race horse who fears the starting gate can be desensitized to the fearful elements (the creak of the gate, the starting bell, the enclosed space) one at a time, in small doses or at a distance.

I've just been skull fuc*#d! Watching the Senate hearing (on the Fertilizer Scam) via the news on TV is an insult to my intelligence and my sensibilities as a citizen of this nation. As we have learned in early childhood, telling lies evoked varied discomforts and fearful thoughts to the liar. You'd normally be afraid of the consequences if and when the lie or lies are found out.

However, a person may learn to systematically desensitize his behavior and attitude to learn to beat the "lie detectors", so to speak. Lies become gospel truth if you train hard enough and engage your brain in convincing oneself that that type of twisted mental masturbation will be a matter of self preservation and survival. Keep that in mind, you WILL lie to save your behind.

It is common knowledge that fertilizers are made mostly from excrement. I hope they stop giving us CRAP about CRAP. A lie is a lie is a lie. Period. I hope they cut the crap NOW and not after millions of pesos of taxpayers money. Once and for all, we want to see some heads roll...roll over excrement...please. Enough with the jokes, Joke Joke.

Oh Crap! I need a chocolate bar...Extra Dark.

Let's Volt In!

"Pare, naiyak ako dito." (Man, this made me cry.) A schoolmate from high school wrote this simple reply when he received the YouTube video via posting at our high school alumni Yahoo group. He now resides in the state of Illinois. I guess that made it more awfully depressing...being far from home and all. True true...this video made me cry, too. I don't really know the exact reason why. Perhaps we all felt sentimental about those days. Back in the day, 1978 to be exact, a 75-channel cable TV was for the rich folks who could afford the monthly bill and satellite connections. I don't even think our 14-inch Trinitron had the capability to connect via the cable providers antennae. In those days, you had to climb up to your roof to fix the bad reception of your TV set. That being said, we had to settle for viewing good ole' local TV...and all of it's 5 channels. In 1978, kids who owned a TV set rushed home from school and eagerly waited for the new episode of the popular Japanese Anime, Voltes (Five) V. By 5:50pm, the urban and suburban neighborhood streets were a virtual ghost town without a child or even puppies in sight. Bicycles and carts were left on the sidestreets as if aliens abducted all the kids. Come 6pm, children are glued to the TV set on Channel 7. Those were the days, when parents wouldn't dare touch the channel dial of the set for fear of the infamous Voltes tantrum and being struck by laser sword. This was a mere half hour of anime experience where we lived the fantasy of saving the earth by controlling the super robot Voltes Five who knew Judo, Karate, and brandished a cool laser sword that cut through steel. My heart rate is racing just by writing this. I need a glass of water. VOLTES FIVE! Watch and weep...

Jimmy Bond... Agent Uh-oh 7.

Last Friday, my wife and I decided to eat out.  Pizza, pasta and ice cream are the comfort foods we normally crave for after a long work week.  After dinner, we decided to catch the 8pm screening of the new James Bond movie, Quantum of Solace.  Since, we both did not see Casino Royale, Daniel Craig's first Bond starrer, we were shocked by what we saw. Let's just say the pizza, pasta and ice cream calories we took in were all burned by just watching Bond run, jump, drive, fly, fight and KILL.  

I kid you not, this Bond had no qualms about maiming an international villain, double agent, or a hulking bodyguard who's just trying to make a living.  The fight scenes were all too realistic and had us gasping for breath. You could almost feel every gunshot, punch, broken leg and stabbed muscle Agent 007 inflicted on his enemies.

If you're a baby boomer and saw all the actors that played Bond , you'd be appalled by the transformation Bond went through.  Connery, Moore, Dalton, and Brosnan all depicted the MI6 agent as a dashing and debonair man of mystery who were sharp and dapper in designer suits. Craig's Bond didn't give a rat's ass when his suits tore when he went  flying Parkour style in the medieval buildings of Tuscany.  Craig acted as if he'd rather be called Jimmy than James. The previous Bond men charmed women with their smile. This new guy seduced his women devilishly with nary a smirk on his face.  It seemed this Bond enjoyed killing more than getting laid and making whoopee. This Bond has serious issues.

Even if Craig looked like a football hooligan compared to his predecessors, he brought a chilling sense of realism in this previously all too elegant world of cloak and dagger. The simple act of asking the bartender for a Martini (shaken not stirred) seem proletarian than bourgeoisie.  Agent 007's lady boss, M, treated him as if he was a rogue agent who was out of control and in dire need of anger management therapy. He was just trouble and a pain the behind.  M should have called him Agent Uh-Oh 7.

Sir Roger Moore, the 80's Bond, dislikes what they did to 007 saying: "There's too much violence." He's right. He was a Bond who was a more of a lover than a fighter. 

The ladies were still gorgeous and leggy... yet less busty. That was expected.  The ridiculously rich villains still looked deceitfully classy. The gadgets? Well, they were few and almost nowhere to be found. He was contented with his reliable handgun and streetfighting skills. This Bond was a close quarter striker and grappler.

The new Bond movie is violent and not for the faint of heart...and I love it! But hey, it's only a movie. It was worth our 140 pesos.

After the movie, I was so tired. I had to eat the leftover pizza. 

 Tanan...tanan...tananan...tanan...tananan! (to the tune of you know what)

From Washington to Manila to Vegas, baby!

As far as Manila is concerned, the Obama fever and honeymoon period is over. While it is true that most Filipinos are happy for the historic win of the first African American President of the most powerful nation in the world, Pinoys are naturally shoulder shruggers and take the wait-and-see attitude hoping that the Change that came to America will come here as well.  In what size, shape, and form? The ridiculously corrupt Congressman's  guess is as good as the hilariously smart-ass manong barbero (barber). Wait-and-see.

We have, time and again, been criticized by the world and branded  a nation with VERY short memories and attention spans. In my opinion, that is totally untrue, unfounded, and unfair... Hey, did you hear about the possibility of Manny Pacquiao losing his title?! You haven't?! 

(from abs-cbnNEWS.com)

CHENG DU, CHINA- Filipino boxer Manny Pacquiao must cough up $30,000 within the next 15 days or be stripped of his World Boxing Council lightweight title, the WBC said on Thursday.

The boxing body's governors, meeting in Cheng Du, are demanding the fighter pay sanctioning fees they say he owes, or they will take his belt.

"Manny Pacquiao is a great champion and the pride of the WBC. But he believes he is the ruler of the organization and that is not going to happen," WBC President Jose Sulaiman told Reuters.

"If he doesn't want to do it, he goes his way and we go our way. He has made a fortune with the WBC. He became famous fighting WBC Champions like Marco Antonio Barrera and Erik Morales and now he's trying to kick us in the back and send us home. We cannot do that.

"I am very disappointed because he's a friend, he is the hero of President Arroyo and of the whole country of the Philippines, and I feel very bad because of the way that we've been treated. But the phone is there and the door is open."

The WBC is also insisting Pacquiao pay $100,000 within 15 days of his anticipated fight against Oscar de la Hoya or face the same punishment. That non-title fight is scheduled for Dec. 6.

It was not clear, however, if the WBC has received request from any party to stop the Pacquaio-de la Hoya bout.

Sanction fees?  Great idea, Mr. Sulaiman...found in the rule book or not, that's a brilliant moneymaker while protecting the interests of the WBC.  This is showbusiness. They'll understand. Besides, Manny can raise the moolah faster than he can say the word BUKSENG!  

Now, what was I writing about?...Forget it! ... Place your bets, hermanos! 

To be color blind...

There are over 150 dialects in the Philippine Archipelago. Various schools dispute the fact that these are not dialects but languages. So there is an ongoing debate whether it's Language or Dialect...potato, patata...tomato, tomata. I don't want to get into that. Let the linguists battle in that arena.

Anyway, since there are 150 dialects (or languages) in the islands, competition and rivalry is natural and expected. Typical stereotypes would be Ilonggos (Iloilo, Bacolod, etc.) and their aversion for the Ilocanos (Ilocos region), or Cebuanos (Cebu) have natural animosity toward Manileños (Manila)... so on and so forth. That's just how Filipinos are wired when they take pride in their regions of origin. What's funny is, most Filipinos look almost the same with dark brown skin, black hair, bulbous nose, full lips etc. Mestizo and mestizas (half breeds) are, of course, an exception. Even funnier is the fact that in spite of the many dialects (or languages), they can still understand each other by speaking the Tagalog dialect (or language) with relative ease. Their areas of disagreement spring forth from their distrust caused by a number of reasons too many to enumerate.

I hear it's the same in the United States. The differences in race, color, and creed naturally breed animosity as the world's histories time and again predict. Filipino variances in language appear amusing compared to the apparent remnants of racial discrimination in the States. Obviously, this is more serious than our language distinction problems. Certainly not just a tomato-tomata-potato-patata problem.

Mike, my nephew, has a simple wish. Though written from the complex mix of heart (or bleeding heart as commented by his friend on Facebook) and mind, It can't get any simpler than this.

How does this blindfold fit?

(Re-posted with permission from Mike's Facebook Notes)

As Barack Obama takes on this new era of change, many people haven't. Just as the first Presidential debates came, I knew that Obama had something new to bring to Washington. My mind was set and millions upon millions of others too. This race was about who had the best propositions to bring to help us all recover from our financial disasters that plagued us for the past 8 years. Oh how blind we were to let Bush run 4 more years over us..and now the mess is deep and he's ready for the hand-off. Being that I'm now residing in the south...the ol' wonderful south, some things haven't changed much really from the civil rights days of the past. There's alot of "undertones" of racism still impregnated into the minds of those who surround us even today..."closet supremacists" that blurt out only when black people aren't around.

I was born and raised in California till I was 11 and then moved to Hawaii with my father. I was surrounded by lots of different cultures and greatly appreciated the diversity of both California and Hawaii. Yes, I know Hawaii has some forms of racism also...like "f-ing Haole"..when youre mad at the white guy in Hawaii...but not too extreme, still everyone gets along with everyone. Now Im here in the south and moved here in 2001. I chose a job working on trailers here in Jacksonville. I had culture shock when I hear and see how young black men are treated differently around the shop as compared to themselves(white). The white men always referred to me as the Hawaiian but would always tell me "nigger" jokes that always degrades black men or women. I never found a way to laugh at them..just wen't about my work. I also noticed that the shop radio can play country for days on end and being the night shift, I heard country all night also. One night, some of my fellow black guys went over and turned the radio to some R&B and returned to work. I thought hey, I like a little mix in music and something other than country ALL DAY LONG (10 hour shifts). One (white) guy came over to me and asked "i hate this nigger music"...and he rushed off and turned it back to country..that was one example years ago. Another one was recently here in the shop I work at now, I turned my radio to some jazz music to mix it up a bit. And sure enough one of the guys(white) came over and jokingly said "what'cha listening to-that jungle jive crap today?"...its just little undertones of things I hear from time to time.

Now that this election is up, I had my Obama/Biden sticker on my car since the first debate..like two months ago? I have gotten the silent treatment in the shop and nobody likes to talk about the election let alone our newly elected President since they are predominately white.

One of my Co-workers(white) asked last week "did ya vote?"..I told him "yes, early"...he asked "so who'd you vote for?"...I replied "Obama" and he had this shocked face on him, by this time-another co-worker hearing the conversation butts in "you voted for Obinladen?"...and I said "you damn right I voted for Obama!"...I asked him "did you vote?" and he replied "I would have, but I didn't register"...so I said "well you don't have shit to say since you didn't vote"....and I left it at that.

Im proud to have voted for change and that's what we need in this country. It shouldn't have to be about black or white. It should be about who has the most values that can bring great things to the nation and let us strive and recover our lost friends and allies across the world that we left behind. Im proud to have helped our nation in taking the first step in breaking the barrier of white or black...my blindfold doesn't fit....does yours?

Black is Brown too

Was there a history data “blackout” (no pun intended) about African American soldiers in the Philippine American war when we attended high school and college? Nobody talked about this.  What happened?

About a decade ago, I read an article about African American soldiers arriving in the Philippines to augment US army forces fighting the so called Philippine Insurrection (1899-1902).  The arguably mere neutralization of Filipino bandits (in their own homeland) took over 3 years to conclude with millions of dollars spent.

In college, I read about the enigmatic and mysterious Private David Fagen, an African American soldier who came to the Philippines to fight alongside his predominantly white American Army.  So what’s interesting about him, you ask?

Black brother David Fagen defected from the US Army and joined the resistance movement of our Brown brothers led by General Emilio Aguinaldo in 1899.  Interesting huh?

Private Fagen answered  his country's call to fight for American interests in the name of liberty and democracy. He (Fagen) enlisted in the belief that he will earn the respect of his white comrades in time of war and upon its expected conclusion.  He, along with the other black infantrymen believed their patriotism was as good as their white brother’s love for country.

With the first African American President Barack Obama poised to lead the U.S.A. in 2 months, I sure hope this piece of interesting history will be made known to many. A more open perspective would conjecture that Fagen fought for what he felt was right and just.  I’d like to believe that it was not his color that motivated him to battle it out in sympathy for his newfound brown brothers.  After all, brothers are brothers are brothers…regardless of creed or color.

On a lighter note, I think this would make a great movie.  What you think? …Denzel Washington? Forrest Whitaker? Lawrence Fishburne? Morgan Freeman? 50 Cent?  Hmmm…

This is interesting… (http://hnn.us/articles/8658.html) . From the History News Network.

(A portion of the) Interview with Historical Novelist William Schroder: Before Iraq, There Was the Philippines.

By Rudy Rimando

Mr. Rimando is President of the Bainbridge Island Filipino American Club.

William Schroeder is the author of the historical novel, Cousins of Color which is about an African-American soldier who served in the Philippines in 1899 in the aftrmath of the Spanish-American War. Though little is known about the soldier other than his defection to the Filipino guerilla fighters, his experiences, the author believes, casts light on the current U.S. occupation of Iraq.

When do the black soldiers come into the picture?

In mid-summer 1899, companies of the Twenty-fourth and Twenty-fifth Black infantry Regiments arrived by ship from San Francisco. In his book, Smoked Yankees and the Struggle for Empire, Dr. Gatewood speaks of the black soldiers' dismay when they learned that Uncle Sam and Jim Crow had marched arm in arm into the Philippines. In many ways, the racial prejudice the men faced in the ranks was far worse than they'd experienced as civilians. Not surprisingly, racial prejudice directed toward blacks co-existed with prejudice against the Filipino. In time, the Asian pejoratives "dink," "gook," "slope" and "gugu" became interchangeable with "nigger," "coon" and "sambo." To further complicate matters, the black soldiers discovered they weren't fighting Spanish troops, but Filipino resistance fighters instead. These were men and women seeking freedom from oppression in their own land - something the black soldiers knew well. This was the moral dilemma that weighed heavily on their hearts - the black man's quest to achieve first-class citizenship through battlefield heroism meant bringing virtual slavery to another colored race. The soldiers spoke of being "caught between the devil and the deep blue sea," and they searched for a moral compromise. In time, the black Americans developed an affinity for the Filipinos. They liked each other. They called each other "Cousins of Color." In the midst of this chaotic backdrop, my protagonist, Private David Fagen, decided he could no longer participate in the destruction of another colored race, and one late light in November 1899, he defected and joined Aguinaldo's army.

Without giving away too much of your book, what happened to him?

Nothing more is known of Fagen, only the date he signed up for service and the date he defected. It was reported he led Filipino guerillas in numerous raids against American outposts and supply trains. American officers and men told stories of his "cunning" and "audacity," but as he was never captured or killed, no one knows for sure. In Cousins of Color, I created a fictitious life for David Fagen, placed him in the Philippines and let him navigate through that dark period in history when our pursuit of empire resulted in a violent, bloody clash of cultures and national wills.

Your book deals with the first convergence of the African/American and Filipino cultures, yet you are neither. Can a twenty-first century caucasian give voice to oppressed peoples of a different race and time?

I struggled with that question for a long time before I began writing Cousins of Color. Finally, my wife - the smartest person I know - reminded me that under the skin, we are all human souls, and we all share the same goal - to live among people we love and watch our children grow up free from hatred and bigotry. In my eyes, David Fagen wasn't a black man. He was just a man.