The Halloween Protection Racket

Well, Halloween is upon us again. Time for that classic tradition of having kids dress up and ask their neighbors to give them candy... or else.

I am of course talking about trick or treat.

In the old days, the kids would play pranks on any holdouts who refuse to give them anything. Now, they just cry or call them names and make them feel bad. But the essence remains the the same. Hand over the sweets or we'll let you have it.

Which, curiously, is just how criminal protection rackets work. Pay up or we mess up your business or home.

Chinatown Everywhere

Someone once told me that there's a Chinatown in every part of the world. A corner in each nation which Chinese immigrants have claimed their own.

There's one in New York City.
One in Florida.
One in Virginia.
One in San Francisco.
One in France

One in Toronto.
One in Vancouver.
One in Manila.
There's even one in Disney World.

But I really felt it was getting out of hand when a couple of years ago, while on a trip to Shanghai, China, the tour guide took us to Chinatown.

In China.

Yes Virginia, there's a Chinatown in China.

"Wouldn't every town in China count as Chinatown?"

Apparently not. Because soon enough, we were taken to a small enclosed town which was by far the most cliche' Chinese town I ever saw... and this was in China mind you.

Some one actually thought it was brilliant to put up a Chinatown in China.

You know, for tourists. For tourists visiting China.

A Few Words On Procrastinating

(content to follow)

5 Famous Songs as they were BEFORE the Final draft...

1) Every Other Thing She Does Is Magic

2) Lunchtime at the Oasis

3) Karma Iguana

4) I Grazed The Sheriff

5) If You're Going To San Francisco (be sure to say 'hi' to my cousin there)

Be Careful What You Wish For...

There's this line from an old Gin Blossoms song that goes "Only Time Will Tell, If Wishing Wells, Could Bring Us Anything." which I always found very inspiring.

Perhaps one day, if we're patient enough, the things we've always dreamed about would come true. After all, we were never promised that our wishes would come true right away.

But then, what about the stuff we wished for when we were kids who didn't know better? Cause I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want some of these to come true NOW.

And I don't mean the wishing for ponies or that complete set of Transformer toys...

Nope. I'm talking about the stupid wishes. For instance...

I once wished to be a lion.

And another time... a zookeeper.

So if you're ever at a zoo, and you see a lion in the Elephant cage sweeping the dung off the floor...

... just give me a tip and move along.

It just dawned on me...

Today,

As I sat at my desk watching the sun slowly peek out of the horizon to dispel the shadows of darkness as it cast its radiance over this good earth...

I let out a sigh and said to myself:

"What the F*** am I doing in the office this early!?"

Honor Among Thieves

Ah Piracy.

There's a community of people here who download episodes of foreign TV shows and movies off the internet, burn them on DVDs and sell them.

I recently found out that a group of these folks (let's call them Group A) are ticked off at some of their fellow pirates (Group B) because these Group B pirates would buy discs from Group A... rip and burn them... and sell them.
They're ticked off because while they do all the "hard" pirate work, these other guys pirate their work!

How bad has it gone? You now see them encoding messages attacking the each other into the DVDs. So if Group B pirates copy Group A discs, and the customer views these discs, there's actually an INSULT against the Group B guys whom they bought it from.

For the pirates protection, apparently.

I'd comment on this... but the irony says it all. I can't top that.

I wonder...

... why Velcro shoes went out of style?


... what makes white lies white?


... if librarians ever take home books?


... what Scarlett Johanssen is doing right this very moment?


... if retired porn stars ever sit around reliving the glory days?


... if prostitution is really the oldest profession, were there any Call-cave-girls putting out in exchange for, I dunno... fire?


... if Father Abraham were alive today, how many children would he have?


... why genies grant THREE wishes and not five? Or just one?


... what pick-up line did Adam use on Eve? "Hey! You've got one of my bones in you. Want another?"


... how do we know Australia isn't on top, and some early explorer just had the map upside down? (Good Lord, we've been living a lie!)


... if there are any people with near death experiences that go: "Come towards the dark, child... come towards the dark, child..."

hmm.

American Invasion

You know what bugs me about the term "African-American" and "Asian-American?"

These are still, in essence, racist terms.

And it will remain so until they decide to start calling every white person "European-Americans."

Because if you get technical about it, the only American-Americans by that definition would be the Hawaiians, the Inuits and of course, the Native Americans, who, ironically, got mistaken for Indians by the Euro-americans.

Later, they tried correcting this by calling them American Indians... not to be confused with Indian-Americans who actually came from India.

Incidentally, does this mean a black man in Canada is an African-Canadian? And if a guy comes from America and moves to Africa, does that make him an American-African?

Me speakee indie

Here I am, a Filipino-Chinese fellow who sometimes likes to mimic a bad indian accent.

Some friends of mine have said that this is quite racist of me, but the truth is I don't really have anything against Indians.

And besides, there are like over a billion Indians out there. I'm pretty sure the odds are good that at least THREE of them are doing bad chinese or filipino impressions with funny accents as well.

"Why you make fun my speak, heh? You want me show you Kung Fu?"

I just consider myself the Yang to their Singh.

But when I think about it, it's probably not a smart idea to be posting a joke that might offend the people who invented Karma.

Crisis Management

One of the more popular sayings I keep hearing nowadays goes like this:

"They say 30 is the new 20."

Popular, if you're 29 (like me) or if you're in your 30's.
But then, no one is saying that 40 is the new 30.

One day you're the new 29, the next you're checking a whole new box in one of those age group demographic surveys in magazines.

====
That, for me, was one of the surest signs of aging. After years of checking the 18-25 box, I found myself checking the 26 to 35 box. I was like: "Holy Crap! I'm in another age group now."

Kinda sucks doesn't it? (Well, not if you're 35, I imagine)

====

I'm just about over my quarter life crisis, which started after my adolescent crisis phase.

(I'd call it my awkward phase but after 20 years of awkwardness, It's probably safe to say that it's NOT a phase...)

====

Quarter life crisis. How convenient of them to invent something that could tide me over till my midlife crisis..

Except... you don't usually get to have a midlife crisis until your late 30s. So there's a gap. A crisis-less span of time which the angst ridden spawn of Eddie Vedder, Alannis and Kurt Cobain have no artificially induced pain to cling to.

Until some brilliant sociologist, or socialite, just declares "30 is the new 20" giving us another set of quarter life crisis years.

(To be fair, they considered inventing a "3/8ths life crisis" but the math was just over their heads.)

This insult to your intelligence was brought to you by...

I recently discovered that companies can now pay some of our local gag shows to spoof their ads or products.

Which initially disappointed me because it tends to cheapen the whole thrill one gets when an ad you like gets a nice send up.

But on the other hand, I must admit it's brilliant! Charging companies who want you to ridicule them.

It's the dream business.

It's like that nazi soup kitchen on Seinfeld where people line up in droves to get berated by an unruly, sadistic cook who, quite frankly, probably isn't all that on the cooking side of things.

Heck, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog from Conan O Brien made a whole name for himself out of this whole schtick. Only in America can a cheap looking sock puppet that probably costs less than a Happy Meal become a pop culture icon by talking about poop.

I for one wouldn't mind getting paid to make fun of other people. Who wouldn't?

And not just ads and companies. How about politicians, celebrities... hell, I'd take total strangers!

Imagine clocking in a work in the morning and attending these huge brainstorming sessions where we figure out new ways to insult our clients.

"Are we good on the SMC humiliating?"

"I think they haven't signed their C.E."

"What? Draw up their account. We can't be mocking these prehistoric morons for free."

"Sir, you just called our highest paying client prehistoric morons."

"Dammit. OK, that one's on me. But next time, we bill them..."

Why I'm Single (a clue)

There's this barrista at one of the Starbucks' (starbuckses?) I frequent who I find kinda cute.

So I figure... maybe I should ask her out for coffee sometime?

Shopping Spree

Basketball fans may have heard of this one... it's actually old news.

Recently, NBA star Latrell Sprewell of the Minnesota Timberwolves was complaining that he wasn't getting paid enough. OK, we all get that. Despite the astronomical salaries of these players, there are some understandable instances wherein they are allowed to say they are underpaid.

But get this, the multi-millionaire who stands to earn $14.6 million goes on to say "I got my family to feed."

I'm sure this raises a lot of questions about Sprewell but what I'd really like to know is: Where is he buying his food?
You've gotta wonder... that must be one heck of a grocery store.

Something to think about.

There I was, sitting in my car , stuck in traffic, when I thought:

Does Bill Gates, probably the richest man in the world, pick his own nose... or does he have servants do it for him?

Maybe even robot servants at that...

If only actual reality were like reality TV.

I mean, I'm a "joe bachelor"... where are the 30 hot girls trying to win me over and being scandalously offensive towards my moral upbringing?

I'd like to get 25,000 dollars for every time I accidentally eat insects or rat body parts from cheap fast food joints.

Maybe I could have a panel of American Idol judges around for every decision I have to make:

-- Randy: "That parking space is ayt dawg. A little far from the entrace, but you can walk the walk."
-- Paula: "You know I am a huge, huge fan of your driving. That parking space is perfect. You are perfect. The whole world is filled with pretty rainbows, pretty colored butterflies and sugar coated lollipops."
-- Simon: "The problem with that Parking Space is it's NOT a smart space. Only an idiot would park that far. It is dreadful. You are dreadful. I am gay."

It would be cool if more queer guys had as their purpose in life to drive around giving us free clothes, free haircuts, free food, free furniture and free tips on how to score with chicks (although, really... how credible is the source for that last one?) everytime we have a dinner to go to, or a speech to make, or even just for that all important trip to the Automated Teller Machine.

In real life, how would a straight guy really react to five, flamboyantly gay strangers suddenly barging into his house and rifling through his underwear and porn collection?

I probably wouldn't mind Paris Hilton living with my family for a few weeks. (Although Nicole Richie can go take a road trip...)

I'd also like to be able to vote off every person in my life who gives me grief. And my dentist too while I'm at it. A couple of weeks from now, our company is going off on a beach trip. One of my officemates and I figure this might be a good opportunity to thin the herd...

-- "Cynthia from marketing, the tribe has spoken. You Are the weakest link. You're Fired."

Then we'd see the exit interview as the credits roll across the screen.

And yet I have time for this!?

I have this book on Time Management for Creative People.

I bought it at a book shop in Hong Kong three years ago,

It's blue, about the size of a small pocketbook and is roughly half as thick as a VHS tape.

Sadly, I haven't found the time to read it.

I would have (found time, that is) if I had only read the book.

But I haven't.


It's a vicious cycle.

If Looks Could Kill...

Flipping through the channels as I got ready for work this morning, I chanced upon this groundbreaking news story.
Vicky Belo wants to open a Beauty Hospital.

Yes, that's right.

Now, I'm sure the good people at the Belo group do good work. But what intrigues me is this:

Are we really that ugly that we now need full time medical care for our looks?

How ugly does a person have to be to be rushed to a hospital for it?

Caller: "911... my girlfriend... oh my god. help us.. she's... she's"

911: "Sir, calm down. tell me what's wrong."

Caller: "She has.. has... a pimple! Oh God!"

Caller: "OK, don't do anything. Our paramedics are on their way."

Would these paramedics arrive carrying first aid kits... or make up kits?

I would love to see the E.R. at one of these places -- If only to see what constitutes a Beauty Emergency.

This opens up a lot of moral and philosophical questions that will ellicit heated debates from all sectors of society.

Questions like:

-- Can a person call in sick from work because she's flat chested?

-- Or would a note saying "Please excuse my son from class today. His skin is dry." be considered valid?

-- And lastly, would a man with a face that looks like the scrotum of 94 year old Rhino with a fungal infection and nostrils that look like 110 Volt power outlets qualify to park in the handicap spot?

I'm telling you, if they are truly dedicated to their mission... I'd better not see any fat and ugly Filipinos by the year 2025.

I, sheep

Well, I finally did it.

I opened a blog account.

The ego trip status-symbol du jour.

Actually, the phrase "du jour" itself seems to be the phrase du jour nowadays.

For the uninitiated, du jour sort of refers to the trend "of the moment".

Think: "What's in", "What's hot" , "Coffee of the day" or "The it-thing."
All terms which mean the same thing but are soooo 5 minutes ago.

Like Friendster. I suppose. (Yesterday's ego trip du jour.)

I'll probably wear out that term if I keep using it.

Du jour du jour du jour....

Blog- which I've learned is a shortened nickname for web log-actually seems like a bad sound effect to me.

"It was late and McKenzie was typing away at his web journal. Lost in his thoughts, our hero failed to sense the sinister figure approach him from behind. Blog! When McKenzie awoke, he was in a dark cramped compartment. Perhaps the trunk of a moving automobile. He could hear the speed bumps as his captors raced through the city."

"Ka-blog. Ka-blog. Ka-blog."

Here's something else this late bloomer discovered: Blogs have been around for years! So if you were blogging as early as 1985 or whenever it was that this thing was invented, you are not sheep. You might even be considered pioneers.

Much like a person wearing tie dyed shirts and listening to Usher in the mid 1800s.

I, on the other hand, jumped on this bandwagon just as blogs were already everywhere. Doing my bit to clog up the information superhighway (information superhighway-buzzword du jour circa 1997) with more traffic.

Now, don't get me wrong. Blogs can be useful.

Distinguished journalists and some of today's greatest minds use blogs to share their deep insights and eye opening perspectives with the web surfing public.

However, it also provides an avenue for the not-so-great minds to spew their self indulgent garbage for all the world to see.

Case in point: Me.

What did I do to earn the right to broadcast my random drivel? I had an email address- Now the only pre-requisite for owning a soap box or pulpit.

I wish getting a loan approval was this easy.

You realize this means that if the late, great Andy Warhol were around today, and he made that 15 minutes crack, it wouldn't be so impressive.

AW: "In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes."

US: "Shut up you over-moussed freak."

Then again, if he were around today. He wouldn't even bother to say it. He'd just post it on his blog.

A lot of people use blogs as online diaries. Which, while very respectful, begs the question: Wasn't there a time when diaries weren't meant to be read by other folks? Still, it is always nice to keep a journal of your personal thoughts or views. And there really is nothing wrong with opening it up for all the world to see.

Except if you're a complete moron. In which case it's better to keep your inane ravings to yourself. (*mandatory comeback: author should take his own advice)

But hey, that's technology for you. To embrace it is to use it for both great things, and for trivial affairs of the self.

To be sure, I am in no way discouraging my fellow bloggers (for one thing, it's a little late in the game to be a self righteous prick... not to mention hypocritical)

However I would like to point out that we are all just a few letters removed from "boogers"

So here I am. Wasting MY time so that someday (should you chance upon this entry) I could waste yours as well.