I’ve Move Out

Hi there. I’ve move out to a new blog. www.johndavevergara.blogspot.com.

Alive Again

Its been a while since I abandoned this blog. My departure was as quick as my decision to make this blog. Now, I’m not entirely sure if I’d stay here or make a new one. I just feel the itch to start blogging again. Perhaps the reason is to make a good use of my preoccupations. I need a medium to vent my thoughts, otherwise they just float around my head like crazed, Tasmanian-type, eager sperms.

Originally, I started this blog just to dip my finger in the water, so to speak. That’s why, this blog is obviously aimless and kinda lost along the road. I started with a journal type entries which then mutated into a humor blog and finally, metamorphosed into – i didn’t know anymore. Things abruptly got out of hand. There were just too many things to say and write. The sperms are ogling to get out my head as fast as they could possibly impregnate the blog.

Now, I have a plan. Or at least I think I have a plan. I’d like to blog about my religious thoughts from now on. I’d like to put them in a medium where they transcend my own existence with a hope that, someday, someone would take notice.

Why religion? First, it’s what always occupies my mind. The sperms are becoming more religious by the minute. Second, I’d like to spend the rest of my life pursuing the subject as far as my finite mind would allow. A sort of personal challenge to see at what point would I truly nose bleed. Third, religion has never been a boring topic. It never ceases to arouse contentions and debate. And I have this weird urge to want to be in the middle of it all.

So, I guess I just have to use this old blog for a while as a sort of an ac hoc tool until my mind (the sperms actually) finally settles on something else.

Are We Becoming Obsolete?

Somebody said that the future has arrived earlier than expected. And I believe this is true. We are in a whirlpool of unprecedented changes in all aspects of human existence. The old order of things are becoming obsolete overnight. It would not be long before we wake up to a civilization totally unlike the one we are familiar with.

The video below is taken from “mantraparaiso”.

Here’s another video about future civilization from “ephekto”:

Global Warming Blues

"My global warming cup is getting colder by the minute."

James Was Here, 1985

When I’m inside a comfort room, I couldn’t help being pensive. Its walls are just filled with words about life, love, or art and I couldn’t help reading the thoughts of those who actually use it. The comfort room walls are used as log books for peoples’ names and telephone numbers or  diaries for horny people.

While holding my _____, I would read words such as:

“James was here, 1985” or

“Dicky, son of a @#$%*”

Some words left vital pieces of information to start a flame such as “call me 09556898475”. One must be aware though that comfort rooms are designed to be used for people of the same sex. Ergo, the ones who leave behind their mobile numbers are 100% gay.

Obviously these words you read on the walls aren’t worth your preoccupation, but because you spend about 5 to 10 minutes urinating, you can’t avoid reading them all. There’s just nothing to do for the moment but to read these words. And if the comfort room is in your workplace or school, you get to read them every time you pee.

Because of the frequency, such reading becomes automatic. And for every automatic reading, you slap your face real hard.

“James was here, 1985”

“Dicky son of a @#$%*”

“Oh Shssh I’m reading them again!” SLAP!!!

And here’s the law of nature: when you read certain words repeatedly, you end up memorizing them. The morbid part is that these words tend to surface when you are in life and death situations: someone pokes a knife at your back and demands your wallet and all you could ever think of is:

“James was here, 1985”

“Dicky son of a @#$%*”

While I was in law school, I get to read these words myself. During exams, when I would go to the comfort room to recall the answers to some very difficult questions, there on the wall right before me:

“James was here, 1985”

“Dicky son of a @#$%*”

And I would say:

“Oh Shssh I’m reading them again!” SLAP!!!

Law school is 4 years long. And for that span of time, I have read those words countless of times already. The words were itched in my brain and so the reading became automatic. So I kinda accepted this behavior and made some few innovations. Everytime I urinated, I would say:

“Yeah, I know James. You were here squatting on that bowl in 1985”

“Sure Dicky, you’re a son of a @#$%*. Nothing will ever take that away from you”

Then graduation came, and I felt a little sad leaving James and Dicky on the walls of that school comfort room. I felt an affinity with that guy in the movie “Castaway” who cried his heart out losing “Wilson!” on the deep, cruel ocean. But I had to face a new world and a new life; that of a new lawyer.

Now on my first litigation, I went to one of the comfort rooms in the Hall of Justice to urinate. And while holding my _____, there on the comfort room wall:

“Kirk was here, 1995”

“Doug, son of a @#$%*”

The Hotdog Eating Machine

For warm-ups.

What’s so special about hotdogs other than its highly suggestive name and physical appearance? It can actually be turned into a serious national sport or an Olympic game. I’m referring to a hotdog eating contest. The Associated Press recently, reported the exploits of a three-time hotdog eating contest champion, somewhere in New York, who logged his third consecutive winning streak. The hotdog eating contest is now gaining international coverage.

This game is not to be belittled. This is a high dangerous game. There is a high probability that contestants may choke to death. With such accidents, the end result would be a very undesirable sight: a man choked to death with 6 super jumbo hotdogs on his mouth and with eyes popping out of its sockets.

The mechanics of this game is simple. At the sound of the bell, contestants out-swallow each other with bundles of 6 to 7 super jumbo hotdog sticks. The mouth is pretty much abused in this case but with the help of a glass of water, the chunks of jumbo hotdogs slide through the esophagus down to the trachea. The one who eats the most number of jumbo hotdogs wins the contest.

Just like any other sports, contestants in a hotdog eating contest takes the necessary preparations to prim themselves up for the game. Since the mouth is the vital organ here, the contestants practice swallowing large objects, such as the fat part of a French bread or whole loaf bread. For warm ups, contestants swallow a roll of Kleenex bathroom tissue.

Contestants also develop, with deadly accuracy, the ability to breathe while the mouth is heavily soaked with jumbo hotdogs. This act belongs actually to the category of stunts. The fine maneuver of stuffing, eating, chewing, eye popping and most importantly, breathing, is what this game all about. There’s a similarity between this game and that stunt pulled by Kill Bill in one of the luxury hotels of Thailand.

In the Philippines, we have what is called banana eating contest. The bananas used in this game are the ones exported by “Stanfilco”, the big banana export company here in the Philippines. Stanfilco bananas are quite massive and long. They range from 8 to 10 inches long with diameters of 3 inches thick. No water is allowed here, just the lubrication of one’s saliva.

With the media coverage these games are getting nowadays, I would not be surprised if the Olympic committee decides to integrate them into the roster of its official games. That would surely be fun.

The Eventuality of Baldness

Hair loss is a moment of cruel discovery. A person finds out one day that there are only a few feeble strands limply standing on his steep forehead. The entire population in the frontal lobe area is quickly vanishing and fast becoming extinct.

This monumental discovery comes at the most unexpected moments. When the people you meet cover their eyes as if hurt by a searing light, know for sure that your hair is fast retreating. It now turns into some sort of an instrument – a deflector of some kind.

With hair loss, the person suffering therefrom realizes that there are now fewer hairstyles which are suitable to his face. The hair simply doesn’t fit squarely on the face anymore. It’s like forcing a square peg on a round hole.

Paranormal Barbers and Barbershops

I have a fixation with barbershops. Every time I pass by one, I instinctively ruffle my hair and think about having a hair cut. There’s something about its typical blue, red and white stripes designs that automatically sends some electrical signal through my neurons which creates an overwhelming desire for a hair cut.

Last two days ago I had my hair cut. And this is because I passed by a barbershop. One thing I must tell you however, I will not, even for a single instant, allow the barber to decide what particular haircut I would have. I had the cruelest mistake in the past to have surrendered to the barber exactly what kind of hair cut he would bestow on my hair:

Condomated Urge

Last week, I had a rare opportunity to peer into the minds of two typical, middle aged Filipino guys. And when guys like these gather, the topic usually oozes with something really private – their sexual lives.

In this conversation, I played a role of an innocent, antiquated, missionary-position type guy to spur these people to freely reveal what they think about the Philippine Health Bill. I accomplished this by showing awe and bewilderment for every word they said. The more “awed” I appear to these sexual gurus, the more they divulged what they believe about sex and artificial contraception.

“The Church (Roman Catholic) is really against the use of artificial contraceptives. Are you in favor of this?” I asked.

The Separation of Church and Swine Flu

The Roman Catholic Church here in the Philippines has reason to be extra cautious about the spread of the swine flu in the halls of its cathedrals: the number of those infected in the Philippines has now reach 861.

To counter this ever increasing trend, the church’s archdioceses have set out advisories to its parishioners to make sure that the swine flu is nowhere near the altar.

As a virus, the swine flu is transmitted from person to person via the involuntary machinery of the esophagus – that is, coughing. In other words, people just cough out the swine flu from one to another. It is quite dreadful to see this activity right in the middle of the mass; it would then be the mass production of the disease.