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Runaway groom

Tuesday, May 13th, 2014

Priest: Ryan, do accept Lilibeth as your….

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from crowd: Ryaaaaaaaaaannnnnn!!!!!

Ryan turns around, sees the girl, runs into her arms, dashes out of the church with her.

Lilibeth recovers from shock, sues Ryan.



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Monday, April 14th, 2014

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Radio gaga

Tuesday, August 23rd, 2011

I GREW up with the transistor radio as my best friend. I was the loner type, which means that while the other kids in the neighborhood were beating the hell out of each other in imitation of a wrestling match they just saw on TV, I stayed home glued to the radio set, crying over the story of a peasant girl who had to leave home after she got pregnant by, of all people, the parish priest.

Mother: Wa ka nauwaw sa imong gibuhat? Nakig-relasyon ka og pari, usa ka-alagad sa Diyos! Layas! Sukad karon, wala na koy anak! Layaaaas!

Daughter: Igo na mama, igo na. Uhuhuhu… Imo kining sala. Ikaw ang nagtudlo kanako nga way gipili ang gugma. Nahigugma ako ma, ug way gipili ang pinitik ning akong kasingkasing. Apan sige, molayas ako. Ug sukad karon, wala na pud koy inahan! Ari na ko nang!

On Sundays, when radio stations didn’t air soap operas, I switched to musical shows and felt the weight of the world on my shoulders while listening to Imelda Papin’s “Kung Liligaya Ka Sa Piling Ng Iba.”



The Flunkers

Tuesday, August 16th, 2011

A COLUMNIST is most sincere when he writes about something he knows from experience.

That’s why early morning yesterday, before I sat down to write this column, I went outside the house, lay face down on the ground, placed my palms flat against my sides and had the wife take photographs of me performing what is probably the most noble and self-sacrificing act of this generation-–planking.

The neighbors, who wouldn’t normally stop for anything that would delay their trip to work even if it was their house burning, became seriously worried and paused to check if there was anything wrong with me and our family.



Boy Tuko

Tuesday, August 9th, 2011

I GREW up in a town where people considered the tuko, or Tokay Gecko, as part of the family. A house was considered blessed if a tuko lived there. We respected the tuko not because it rid the house of pests. We respected the tuko the way we respected the objects of faith inside the house: with a mixed feeling of fear and awe toward something mysterious and powerful.

We had a least one tuko while I was growing up. The whole time he was with us, I can only count with my fingers the times I saw him in the flesh. When he chose to reveal himself, he only exposed part of his head, and only for a few seconds, but long enough for me to take a good look at his large, brown eyes. He would sneak out from a hole or a crack and quickly disappear when I tried to get close.



Stop staring at my baby’s lunch

Tuesday, July 26th, 2011

PRESIDENT Noynoy Aquino disappointed me yesterday by not mentioning something of great national importance: breastfeeding. I don’t mind him talking about corruption and wang-wang issues, but I expected him to at least open his Sona by saying, “Wala nang hihigit pa sa gatas ng ina.” Or, “Salamat sa gatas mo inay at akoy naging pangulo,” or if he wanted something more brief and catchy, “Gatas ng ina, ikaw na!”

Or, since our beloved senators and congressmen were there, the President could have adlibbed by saying, “Politicians and diapers have one thing in common. They should both be changed regularly and for the same reason.” And then segue into “Ang batang lumaki sa gatas ng kalabaw ay jeprox at laki sa layaw.”



How to lose a fight with a baby

Tuesday, June 21st, 2011

ulanTHIS is a Father’s Day article, so forgive me if I sound extremely sentimental today.

You can’t write about fatherhood without tears welling up your eyes. I consumed 30 rolls of tissue paper before I could even start a word. So here we go.

Last Sunday morning, while all the other fathers in the world woke up feeling important and ready to bask in the limelight, I was challenging my three-month old baby to a fight. The boy accepted the challenge and fought in the best way he knew how, by screaming his baby lungs out. Like the real gentleman that I was, I refused to smack the boy’s face with a pack of diapers and fought him in the best way I knew how under the present circumstances, by screaming my aging lungs out.

So that’s how I and my baby spent our first ever Father’s Day celebration together, by being locked in a shouting match inside our little rented room in Barangay Mambaling, Cebu City.



This Duckface Generation

Tuesday, June 14th, 2011
BEFORE we start, I would like to ask you to press your lips together, got it? Push your mouth out like a pout or pucker and suck in your cheeks, got it? Raise your eyebrows, with one slightly higher than the other, got it? Set your cell phone camera ready and point it at your face at an approximately 45-degree angle, done? Now click!
Congratulations, you are now part of the Duckface Generation! To complete membership, post the picture on Facebook and beg friends to like it.
Yesterday, thousands of members of the Duckface Generation went back to school to start another year of duckfacing inside the classroom, at the canteen, in the library, in the science laboratory, inside the Student Affairs Office, inside the comfort room, at boarding houses, in dormitories, under the mango tree, at the sidewalk, at the mall, at parties, in drinking binges, at the bar, and just about any place where a phone camera can be pointed at a 45-degree angle to the face and there’s enough light.
If you are a parent and you happen to be reading this column, the reason your little girl failed Calculus last year was that she spent half of her study time duckfacing and posting her little duckface photos on Facebook. The other half she spent liking the duckface photos of others on Facebook.
If you’re a parent and you’re wondering what a duckface is, I advise you to go back to the first paragraph and try the instructions out yourself. After you’re done and you’re still confused what the fuss is all about, here’s this Internet definition of your daughter’s duckface pose:
“Duckface is a hideous facial expression, popularly used in self-taken photographs, in which the lips are pursed and flattened, usually accompanied by widened eyes which rarely look directly at the camera. It is mainly used by the subject to show how cute and random they are.”
When you’re done, you might want to call your daughter and beg her to please stop doing that duckface thing or you will cut her cell phone load allotment. Then catch up with us in the next paragraph.
Before the duckface, there’s the V-sign of some ten years ago, an equally bewildering Internet phenomenon that left us wondering what wrong have we done to some of our Asian neighbors that they inflicted this kind of punishment to us. The V-sign continues to attract followers, some of whom are now combining it with the duckface, doubling their bewildering effect on us innocent stalkers.
But while the duckface gained popularity with the rise of Facebook, one of its origins is traced to Derek Zoolander (Zoolander, 2001), whose trademark “Blue Steel” has a similar look. Google “Duckface” and “Zoolander” to know what I mean.
There’s a striking coincidence here. Zoolander the character, played by Ben Stiller, is self-centered, dim-witted and, stupid — the same adjectives duckface haters use to describe their enemies.
Another origin is thousands of years old. Remember Moai, those monolithic human figures carved from rock on Easter Island between 1250 and 1500? Look at those pouting lips! This could only mean one thing: hardcore duckfacers are dictated by the same divine power that commanded the Moai to walk around the island and into their present location.
Of course, there’s always Donald Duck to blame. But he’s too cool to have anything to do with all this.
I admit I have my own share of duckface photos too, but at least I don’t have a Calculus to fail.

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we start, I would like to ask you to press your lips together, got it? Push your mouth out like a pout or pucker and suck in your cheeks, got it? Raise your eyebrows, with one slightly higher than the other, got it? Set your cell phone camera ready and point it at your face at an approximately 45-degree angle, done? Now click!

Congratulations, you are now part of the Duckface Generation! To complete membership, post the picture on Facebook and beg friends to like it.

Yesterday, thousands of members of the Duckface Generation went back to school to start another year of duckfacing inside the classroom, at the canteen, in the library, in the science laboratory, inside the Student Affairs Office, inside the comfort room, at boarding houses, in dormitories, under the mango tree, at the sidewalk, at the mall, at parties, in drinking binges, at the bar, and just about any place where a phone camera can be pointed at a 45-degree angle to the face and there’s enough light.



Sinugbang Sugbo

Tuesday, June 7th, 2011
TWO news stories caught my attention last month because they involved two of my favorite funny Cebuanos, Esteban Escudero, who is Provincial Board Member Julian Daan when he tries to be serious, and Max Surban. Of course we know Max Surban. He popularized the song “Billionaire” written by Bruno Mars.
Last May 16, a man barged into Teban’s house in Talisay City, held him up at knifepoint and ran off with P1 million worth of jewelry, the news said. Teban was working on an episode for his regular drama show when the robber demanded money from our funny man. Teban only had P300 in his pocket and the vintage manual typewriter in front of him, so he led the robber to the master bedroom where the jewelry was kept.
The news said that at first Teban thought a prank was being played on him. We can imagine him telling the robber, “Dong, wa man ni labot sa eksena, HAHAHA.” (In English: Dude, this is not part of the scene, LOL.) But that moment, Bisaya humor seemed to fail, even if the robber was arrested the next day.
Few days later, novelty music icon Max Surban made it to Page 10 when he sued his long-time record label over unpaid royalties. He filed the complaint against Bayanihan Music Inc., accusing the music label of duping him into assigning to the company the rights to ten of his popular songs for only P1 back in the 1980s. He demanded close to P1 million in damages and litigation expenses.
The case is pending, so we will not discuss it here. There’s this legal term called sub-judice, which is Latin for “don’t discuss it here or the court will whop you with more Latin words.”
I grew up listening to Teban’s radio shows and Surban’s songs. From them I learned that the Cebuano language can be a powerful creative tool to make people laugh and forget about their wives, I mean, worries.
I was reminded of Teban and Surban and Bisaya humor while tweeting last week. I keep a Twitter account to amuse myself at how people behave online in 140 characters. How to make a fool or a philosopher of yourself in such limited space is the challenge that makes Twitter popular.
What I didn’t expect to see in Twitter is Bisaya humor kept alive by a group of young people with Esteban Escudero and a Max Surban in their blood. I’m referring to the Twitter account “Sinugbang Sugbo.” Instead of tweeting about how boring their day was and how life is empty without the Azkals, blah blah blah, the group makes fun of just about anything they think is worth making fun of, in 140 characters, and in Bisaya.
And Bisaya tweeters appreciated the fun. In less than a week, Sinugbang Sugbo attracted 80 “followers,” actually a speck of dust in a network of millions of stalkers. But if you’re familiar with Twitter, you have to be Lady the Gaga or Justin the Bieber to attract followers without trying.
The account employs dialogue as device, between a boy named Gorio and his mother, simply known as Mama, in poking fun at pop culture.
Take this on Manny Pacquiao:
Mama: Dong Gorio, datoa na anang Dionesia no? Unsa ra tawn na sila sa una. Gorio: Unya? Mama: Aw, wa man, naa ra gyud na nimo kung mag-boxer ka.
Some English lines made it into the posts, but always with a distinct Cebuano taste to it:
Gorio: Unsay sud-an ma? Mama: Fish with vinegar, salt, seasoning, bell pepper, bulb onions, garlic cloves and ginger. Gorio: Unsa na? Mama: Inun-unan.
Just check them out for a good Bisaya laugh at Twitter.com/Sinugbang Sugbo. I seriously doubt if Teban and Surban are not behind this account.
MONKEY11

TWO news stories caught my attention last month because they involved two of my favorite funny Cebuanos, Esteban Escudero, who is Provincial Board Member Julian Daan when he tries to be serious, and Max Surban. Of course we know Max Surban. He popularized the song “Billionaire” written by Bruno Mars.

Last May 16, a man barged into Teban’s house in Talisay City, held him up at knifepoint and ran off with P1 million worth of jewelry, the news said. Teban was working on an episode for his regular drama show when the robber demanded money from our funny man. Teban only had P300 in his pocket and the vintage manual typewriter in front of him, so he led the robber to the master bedroom where the jewelry was kept.

The news said that at first Teban thought a prank was being played on him. We can imagine him telling the robber, “Dong, wa man ni labot sa eksena, HAHAHA.” (In English: Dude, this is not part of the scene, LOL.) But that moment, Bisaya humor seemed to fail, even if the robber was arrested the next day.



Big boys are a skin shorter

Tuesday, May 31st, 2011

tuliFOR once, let’s get serious here.

There’s crisis everywhere, earthquakes, tsunamis, Joavan Fernandez. In fact the Lord was almost forced to return for the Second Coming last May 21 because of our wicked ways. We would be remiss in our duty as citizens of the world if we keep making fun of things. So for today, allow me to write about a topic of extreme global importance: the foreskin.

And not just the foreskin but also circumcision, the act of removing this poor little loose fold of skin from its base attachment, the penis. The relevance here is that it’s summer, the time of year when civic organizations and politicians get frantic about cutting foreskins off little boys’ penises in the slums as if it’s Erection Day tomorrow. Yes, I said Election Day, read it again.





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