Having gone through my "news feed" at Facebook awhile ago, my interest was particularly piqued by a thread that seemed to suggest that "not all society page characters are bad".
The benefits of having society pages.
(Courtesy of nocaptionneeded.com)
I've never had so much money that I can afford to take a private jet to Belize just to catch the sun from that part of the world, so if you think my commentaries about society pages seem to reek from some form of jealousy, I would like to state that it's more a matter of not comprehending where these characters are coming from: why would I need to flaunt where I traveled or what the f*** I just ate in some rustic villa off the coast of some "millionaire's playground", to be printed in some glossy or newspaper, in a country as poor as ours? (Majority of people here cannot afford three meals a day. Don't deny that we are a poor country.)
Talk about rubbing the calamansi on an open sore courtesy of malnutrition.
If I suddenly had to switch hats and become one of society pages' biggest defenders, how would I go about doing this task? What can I possibly say to give it a positive spin?
1. "Society pages provide jobs for editors, fashion consultants and everyone in the magazine who push these overpriced goods! We are job creators!"
2. "Our newspapers are printed on recyclable materials! Society pages are part of the environmentally-conscious sectors of society!"
3. "Tourism industries blossom because Mrs. What's-Up-Her-Butt went clubbing in ____________! We support the various tourist destinations of First World countries, who need even more money!"
4. "Think of the rich people and the social climbers! Where will they spend money if these pages aren't published? We are humanitarians who love showing (certain) people the way (to throw their money away)!"
5. "How selfish can you get? When you have pretty and nice things, you must share these blessings with the world!...no, no, we're not rubbing it in the faces of people who can't even feed their kids, we are sending them a message of aspiration, so that they will want to have a better life, to have all the nice things we have, even though we all know that they never will have those in this lifetime!"
6. "This is a chance to teach the "others" about life: The pursuit of beauty, like most things, has a price. It's a steep one. Pay up to enter this world."
7. "I've donated naman 10,000 pesos to my charity, ah!" (Socialite saying this while carrying a bag worth 2.5 million pesos, a dress for half a million, shoes for another half million, in a car that costs 10 million pesos.)
8. "We are not inciting envy. When we flaunt the goods we have and the places we go to, we are actually building up your self esteem. If you don't buckle from feeling bad because you will never have these things even if you work 20 hours a day, we are contributing to your personal and emotional growth!"
9. "There's too much ugliness in the world. We are championing the opposite."
10. "We're just more upfront about the correlation between human nature, pride and greed. You?"
There was a time in my life that I was fascinated by whores.
(Photo courtesy of stanford.edu)
For one thing, they seemed to have stricken the word "shame" from their vocabulary. As a young kid who grew up in a Chinese household, a common weapon of choice by parents would be to instill shame in children, the better to leave a lesson's mark on. (Which I gather is something shared with kids who grow up Catholic. The difference being, adult Catholics are still susceptible to this form of torture. And quite effectively, seeing how our politicians bend over backwards in order to appease that religion's headmasters.)
So it has always come as amazing - to me, anyway - that anyone would have no inhibitions whatsoever.
In my (young) eyes, these are some of the characteristics that defined a whore.
The brassy, loudmouthed, cant-stop-from-cussing mouth, the type my mother would most likely slap at any chance she could get.
Bubblegum optional. Cigarettes mostly for show.
Clothes that always seemed "too much": too gaudy, too short, too loud, too much cleavage.
Accessories and "jewelry", plied on their persons, as if tomorrow they would never see a single one of those "precious stones" again.
Heels that would announce how "talented" they are in their trade.
A shade of lipstick deemed inappropriate in circles that would feign horror at the mention of prostitutes, but secretly (?), some members of that clique have been known to enjoy the services of those they deem "unmentionable" in polite society.
(I never knew that there were male prostitutes then.)
I've always heard of prostitutes peddling their sob stories in order to "get through life". They had no choice, they had no other way to earn money. I suppose this explains part of their "charm" to me when I was doe eyed. (Yes, there was a time I once was, you can wipe off that smirk, thank you.) They seemed to be "working" so hard, for causes that were so "noble": an unfinished college education, sending 10 other siblings to school, paying for mom's medical expenses.
I was reminded of this nostalgic frame of reference when I recently crossed paths with a prostitute who I have known for almost a decade. In that span of time, this self-confessed whore has transformed into something verging on "respectability": a steady job, a nice condo, a mid-range priced car, and a "husband" who is oblivious to all the talks around detailing the sexual proclivities with various strangers of his "spouse". (They live together but are barred from being legally married.)
And ever since we made an acquaintance, I slowly began changing my views on whores.
One, they are ruthless. The very word seemed designed for them. Me against the world, so take no prisoners. Everyone is a bug just waiting to be crushed in order to take that next rung up the social or financial ladder. If you have something of interest, the whore will entice and then discard once its objective is met.
Two, they prey on the insecurities and fears of individuals who do not recognize their own self-worth. They are masters at sniffing this out. This particular whore acquaintance of mine - by no means a friend - has stated, repeatedly, how the gym is such a veritable marketplace to work the trade. (I guess whores have a leg up, in this scenario: A large percentage of people who go to gyms are dissatisfied with their looks, which generally means a not so firm grasp on the contentment scale.) One look, one glance, that's all my acquantance needs. Then the dance of seduction begins - hopefully not consumated right there and then! - and just to give you an idea of this whore's "powers" - two victims that have fallen include a well-known local writer as well as a former foreign service official to our country.
Three, their timing is impeccable. They know when they have to leave the dance floor, and move to another club, so to speak. The nature of their work is such that there seems to be a sell-by date, an exasperationdate, so to speak - when the "escort" is hinging low on the "charm scale" and the victim realizes he has no more "finances" to speak of. (I wager they would do well in comedy as well.)
And four, they recognize that sex is a basic human need, and that there will be no shortage of "customers" willing to pay for a little happiness. In this respect, they are streetwise pseudo-psychologists, ably attuned to what makes people "tick", and playing into this knowledge to serve their own purposes.
Back to my whore-acquaintance: suddenly, this being feels some form of superiority over me, owing to the financial and occupational (the regular "respectable" work, not the "sideline") success achieved after years of clawing and tearing people's lives apart.
I'm not sure if I should laugh out loud or just look condescendingly with pity at the whore's delusions. Suddenly, something flashed in my mind, something I learned from Desperate Housewives. I gave the whore a smile. One that was incomprehensible, and infuriatingly enigmatic.
Nothing is more ambiguous than a smile that cannot be read.
While looking for some good "bad TV" to watch ("guilty pleasures"), I chanced upon a film that brought me back to the good old days I was still in my khaki shorts: Mean Girls. I watched it for about 10 minutes before realizing something a friend told me also recently: Kids are mean, and always will be.
(Photo courtesy of myshoebag.wordpress.com)
Looking back, I don't think anyone was spared.
And the more I think about it, it really had everything to do with our social interactions, our need to belong, and that innate human quality of just seeing the worst in everyone and pounding on that to make ourselves feel better. In short, it was a way of coping - although some seemed to "cope" better. I use cope in quotes because some kids used it - and still do - to attain a measure of power.
The "classification" of kids comes rather easy at that stage: We all knew "instantly" who were the jocks, the beauties, the nerds, the bulakbol (didn't care much for the academic subjects, just passing through), the over achievers, the ass- lickers. At a time when the search for identity is of paramount importance, it becomes imperative to know which "clique" you belong to.
I belonged to the somewhat nerdy, overachieving clique: my GPA was good enough to get me to the "honors class" but in a sea of "smart" people (and by smart, I mean the only measure was the GPA, nothing more) I would be considered an "underachiever", which I compensated for by being in so many clubs and organizations. Due to my obesity, I hated sports, and boy, did the P.E. teachers pick up on that, and proceeded to use the "weak kids" as comedy, asking us to do the most push ups, chinups, etc., much to the "delight" of the jocks, who, even at that age, could do one arm pushups and chinups.
Then there were the "princesses" who used their physical features to make every other girl feel bad about their less than perfect physical selves, and because they tended to socialize with boys who would "match" their stature in looks, they created a force field of sorts that seemed to say "only beautiful people need apply".
Teachers did help along with this process, by always making it known how pretty someone is, and when photos were to be taken, they always wanted to be beside the "good looking ones", treating it as some kind of badge. (Maybe hoping for beauty by osmosis?)
Teachers have their share of meanness, as well. I remember this particular teacher, who saw me reading US or People magazine, and it just so happened to be be opened at the "centerfold" - it was the height of Paula Abdul's career, and she had a slinky dress on and struck a "sexy" pose - she suddenly turned the magazine towards her and then looked at me and said, "Yes, you would be the type who would be interested in something like this." (Of course, that notion is idiotic for those who know me, but having a teacher say that to me was not pleasant.)
I was so glad when college came along: No more of the old cliques that I was used to seeing year after year. You could reinvent yourself, if you wanted to; or you could be more of yourself than you've ever been, without fear of reprisal or rejection.
Or so I thought.
It turns out, in life, there will always be those "cliques": the people who get everything they want even if they don't try/don't deserve it/are definitely underqualified; those who get ahead because they have mastered ass-licking into an exquisite art; and those who are just darned lucky to have all the chips fall in their favor.
The meanness that we all encountered when we were younger, that was just the dress rehearsal for what would come later. But, as adults, you don't have to take it lying down, or sobbing softly in a corner. That's the great thing I learned from some of those humbling humiliating moments: Kids who are bullies sometimes turn into adult bullies. And if you survived them then, there's no way to go but onward from here on out.
Bullying has a new dimension today, with the advent of social media. The methods may be different, but the story is still the same.
Chin up, eyes forward.
This, too, shall pass. May you learn the lesson - it will serve you well later in life.
The recent discovery of the fossil named Australopithecus sediba, found in a cave in South Africa, is generating considerable excitement in the scientific community, and rightfully so. It is said to be the oldest known fossil that is tied with our genus Homo, and speculations and arguments have arisen whether or not this strengthens the "missing link between apes and humans" idea or whether this discovery will lead us to another, entirely new path about the origins of man. (See http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/home/science/Mans-earliest-ancestor-found/articleshow/9930817.cms)
(Photo courtesy of anthropology.net.)
In either case, I welcome the discovery, as well as the ensuing discussions that will no doubt come, because all it does is strengthen my faith in science, in a way that no religion ever could.
You see, science never stops asking questions.
If it did, we would never wonder about gravity, nor have found out on which body our solar system is anchored on. We would just readily submit having cancer as our "fate", or as a "punishment" of sorts. We would never discover that all our emotions are somehow tied to chemical reactions in the body, and that what we think can ultimately affect the body itself. We would never think that humans could one day actually fly out into outer space - or even merely fly, period.
Science is never arrogant.
It demands proof, hard evidence, before it accepts something as truth or fact. It doesn't ever have the audacity to ask anyone to believe in a concept "because I said so!". Once a new discovery is laid on the table, it is open for anyone to challenge, as to how this discovery came to be, how it works and what to make of it. It invites everyone to be part of its' scrutiny, because facts have to withstand any and all questions, no matter how intense or "unfair", in order to be accepted into our body of knowledge.
Science changes with each and every new revelation.
It is not stagnant - for if it was, we would never have cars, computers or contact lenses. And in so short a span of time, they have transformed into space shuttles, tablets and laser surgery. Whenever changes, tweaks, improvements or entirely new ideas come our way, science embraces it with open arms. It doesn't shut anything out, just because "we like how it's always been done, we stick with the old ways!"; instead, with each new revelation, it builds upon what it already knows, and furthers our species and our lives with this attitude.
Science does not have a titular figure.
Instead, anyone is able to bring their own expertise into the equation. Scientists - in general - have this burning desire to make unknown things known, and to share this knowledge with anyone who cares to listen. Voltaire, Curie, Einstein - these are but three in a long list of scientists who have made their mark felt, known, and beneficial to humanity, making the field of science richer the day they left us than the day they entered it, and this heritage has not stopped, it is a continuous process that, in the truest sense of the word, evolves before our very eyes.
Science readily admits it doesn't have all the answers.
How could it? Even when talking about the brain alone, we have barely begun to scratch the surface of what its true potential is. Science is in awe of what it doesn't know, but instead of being frightened by that realization, it forges on with the desire to understand the what, the how, the why. It is never content with what it does know, knowing fully well that what we know now doesn't begin to compare to what we still don't know. It does not panic at the thought of uncertainty, it is challenged and fortified with each new uncertainty that is practically begging for comprehension.
I am excited at what new discoveries there are in our genetic code. I am excited that the stuff of science fiction have not just become scientific facts, they are fast becoming obsolete. Science is compelling, and it doesn't do it in a forceful way; it doesn't beat you on the head, it naturally invites curiosity, wonder and even amazement. It is inspiring, beautiful and wondrous.
Science is something that I appreciate more and more, its value only increasing with time. In an age of useless and empty rhetoric, blind adoration and allegiances, and idiotic forays and emasculation-caused displays of violence and superiority, I cling to the belief that science will surpass all of this, and continue to guide our people, to a hopeful, more enlightened future.
If you're in need of laughs, this film provides it. In spades.
Framed with ribbons.
Arthur has been asking me to block off a date for us to watch Zombadings 1: Patayin Sa Shokot Si Remington, and we finally did after I got off work today. I knew that there was considerable buzz on the net about it, and one of my favorite writers/bloggers has been promoting it constantly - Jessica Zafra.
I'm glad we did. It's hilarious and plays on a controversial topic with such panache that the "are we really talking about this?" factor is stripped away.
The pink elephant is now the sparkly elephant in the middle of the room that everyone gathers around.
Two things stood out for me. Let's go for the negative first.
The premise for what "caused" Remington (Martin Escudero) to "become gay" was a curse bestowed upon him by an older gay man (Roderick Paulate), as the young Remington was making fun of Roderick's character, who was in mourning at the time. The "resolution" of the "curse" was for the "exorcism" of the "gayness" from Remington, and it "had" to be "passed on" to someone who is "totally straight".
Concepts that I am clearly uncomfortable about (to put it mildly) for very obvious reasons. This "theory" of how "gayness" originates certainly comes from the same thread that spawns the ideas that you can either "pray the gay away" or that you can beat the living daylights out of a young child so that his or her homosexuality can be arrested. In either scenarios, there is an element of "outside intrusion" that is seen to make someone "abnormal" (in this particular instance, homosexuality as defined by conservatives).
The only way I can accept that "theory" if there is also a "spirit" that makes people straight.
I realize that the writers of the film may be playing this up as a poke to people who believe in this theory. However, given how some people take things literally, I am sure this either produced an "ahh, ganun palayun!" moment in some, or served to reinforce the beliefs of those who take this theory to heart.
Now, the positive: The part that resonates with what I've observed in life is that most homophobic men are often revealed to be gay themselves, but unable to accept this fact, they direct their frustration and their anger at those who do have the freedom, the courage, or both, to live their (gay) lives openly. In the movie, the "villain" has a "special gun" that identifies men as "gay" if he points it - and he is revealed to be gay himself in the end.
I did blog about Senator Larry Craig last month (http://theguywithablog.blogspot.com/2011/08/hypocrites-hypocrites-everywhere.html), someone who is staunchly opposing any legislation that is labeled "gay-friendly", but who was caught soliciting sex from a male officer in an airport bathroom. So, I applaud the film makers for succinctly capturing this truth about those who seem so virulently homophobic. (Yes, I know, there are people who are homophobic purely because of bigotry, or because their priest/pastor told them that homosexuality is "of a demonic nature". But it's often my experience that men who are self-assured in their own (heterosexual) sexuality have nothing to fear from any manifestations of homosexuality.
The film has a steady stream of "laugh pockets" (as I call these episodes where people continually laugh, broken by quieter scenes). Watch out for Roderick's scene with the candle, the confrontation of Remington and Roderick's character, and the dance extravaganza by Remington. (My favorite was when Remington was in the toilet providing "gay translations" for the pail, sink, etc.)
I am also grateful for the film makers for providing translations for the "gay-speak" that was used liberally throughout. The ones used were much too convoluted to be understood in one go. (Hinting for the DVD release, please.)
Forty years ago today, Stanford researcher Dr. Philip Zimbardo conducted what would now be dubbed as "the most notorious psychology experiment of all time", the Stanford Prison Experiment (SPE). It is a wealth of information and insight into humanity (or what we think we know of it), of how roles can define us, how powerful situations and self-images are - and, how evil and cruelty can manifest itself in seemingly "normal" human beings.
(Photo courtesy of brainpickings.org)
Zimbardo himself had to stop the experiment after only 6 days (Stanford researchers originally planned this to be a 2 week experiment) because the "guards" were bordering on sadism and behavior that was too shocking to behold.
Let's break it down.
Zimbrado had a print ad detailing the need for middle-class male subjects of college age to be part of an experiment. Accepted subjects would earn $15 a day for each day of the experiment. They were also subjected to pre-screening tests to ensure they were of sound mental and physical health.
Once selected, the experiment then began.
One clear day, several individuals (those who would be assigned as "prisoners" in this experiment).were rounded up by the "police" (wearing glasses, with complete uniforms and paraphernalia), blindfolded and brought to a facility (for "processing") that would become their prison.
They were stripped naked and then searched.
The degradation procedure was planned, partly to humiliate prisoners, and partly to ensure that they were not bringing any germs. ("Prisoners" were inspected for lice and given an anti-louse "hosing".)
"Guards" were instructed to never physically harm "prisoners" but they could pretty much do anything else that they deemed fit their "role".
"Prisoners" had on a heavy chain bolted on their right ankle at all times, and hairs were outfitted with a stocking cap made from women's nylon stocking (replacing the shaving that is done in actual prisons). They were given "smocks" but no undergarments. Immediately, researchers observed that "prisoners" started walking and sitting differently - more like a woman than a man.
They were assigned individual numbers, and no names were to be used, so the only means of identification were their given numbers. (On both the "prisoners" and "guards" parts.)
That meant making the prisoners feel helpless, with no control over the situation they were in, and making the "prisoners" feel that their fates were being determined by the "guards". Some were confined to solitary, others were given forced exercises like pushups. The general consensus of the finding was that once the "roles" assigned began to be imbibed into either group, they acted out accordingly.
At 230AM, the "prisoners" were rounded and lined up, made to say their numbers aloud. With both camps feeling out their roles that first night, the "prisoners" still asserted their individuality and the "guards" were still not that controlling - this would be the first of many confrontations between the two groups, which would devolve into the "guards" exhibiting more power and the "prisoners" getting into various states of mental distress. Pushups were instituted as punishment, with the "guards" either stepping on the backs of the "pushup-ee", or asking other "prisoners to do the "back-stepping".
A "rebellion" broke put the next day ("prisoners" took off their stockings) and the "guards" called in for reinforcements (the other subjects that weren't in the night shift), and they sprayed the fire extinguisher on the "rebels". They stripped the prisoners naked, got all their beds and placed the "rebellion leader" in solitary confinement.
The "guards" starting talking amongst themselves, that they couldn't possibly contain all the prisoners all the time (since they had shifts), so a solution was arrived at by themselves: They set up a "privilege cell", awarded to those who were the least involved in the "rebellion" - they had beds, a nice space and better food to eat than the rest, in full view of the other "prisoners".
Here's the kicker: "Guards" then exchanged the "prisoners", putting the rebellious ones in the "privilege cell", while the "good ones" went back to the regualr ones - which resulted in confusion for the "prisoners", making the "rebels" suspect the "good ones" as informers.
(Real life application: Guards in actual prisons try to stoke distrust and anger among the inmates themselves, thereby deflecting any danger that might have been directed to the guards onto each other.)
Bathroom privileges were under the strict control of the "guards". "Prisoners" had a bucket in their cells to urinate and defecate when they weren't allowed to use the bathroom, and at a certain point, these buckets weren't collected, making the cells filled with the stench of human waste - adding more to the degradation.
One of the "guards" puts it quite tellingly:
"I really thought I was incapable of this kind of behavior, I was really dismayed that…I could act in a manner so absolutely unaccustomed to anything I would ever really dream of doing. And while I was doing it, I didn’t feel any regret, I didn’t feel any guilt. It was only afterwards, after I began to reflect on what I had done that this began to dawn on me and I realized that this was a part of me I hadn’t really noticed before.”
After a mere 36 hours, one of the "prisoners" had to be released because he was suffering distress, fatigue and started acting out in anger and desperation.
To see the full experiment as narrated by Zimbardo himself, click on this link: http://www.prisonexp.org/
I find it fascinating that this study isn't disseminated more. (I certainly did not encounter it back during my undergraduate days as a psychology major.) One of the things I took away from reading this horrific, telling experiment is that we can never, ever be sure of how we will act until we are in the situation ourselves.
Zimbardo himself made this astute observation: "The study makes a very profound point about the power of situations — that situations affect us much more than we think, that human behavior is much more under the control of subtle situational forces, in some cases very trivial ones, like rules and roles and symbols and uniforms, and much less under the control of things like character and personality traits than we ordinarily think as determining behavior.”
This makes me think of the anecdotal observation made that Filipinos abroad are some of the most law-abiding members of their (particular foreign) society. Could it be that the cues that Filipinos get from those particular instances and places make it "easier" for them to follow the rules? And if this is true, then it follows that the situation in our own country makes it equally conducive to wantonly disregard the same rules, think of pocketing millions and even billions from the public coffers which we "normally" wouldn't do...which is blatantly in direct contradiction to the "claim" that we are a "religious, moral" society.
I am not holding perpetrators of evil and injustice free from their actions. But if our environment and the roles that we assign ourselves - or have been bred by others into our own systems that we believe these to be true - are much more powerful than we ever realized, then this may be the jumping off point for anyone wishing to institute behavioral changes on a massive scale.
As I've always maintained, all of us have that equal capacity for both good and evil. What's chilling is that, like that "guard" observed, we may not feel any remorse or guilt at all while engaging in evil because it is "expected" of us, by forces both within and outside.
After all, while I generally scoff at how physical attributes are valued over one's intellectual capacities or emotional maturity, it is a (sad) fact of life that having this currency - beauty - makes the bearer's life much easier, richer (and I mean that in a financial sense) and more exciting - compared to someone who doesn't carry the "cash".
We've all known this fact since we were young: People who were on the attractive side tended to get much admiration and leeway from authority figures, and were probably the most popular kids from our memory vault: It's rare that someone was well-known back then other than for beauty - unless you were the school druggie who dropped out (you can achieve fame or notoriety, which would be flip sides of the same coin). When we pore through yearbooks or discuss school nostalgia, inevitably we find ourselves thinking about who were the most good looking ones.
It's a good thing to learn that fact early on, because even as adults, we remain ensnared with the potency of beauty's touch - and what this actually translates to in real-life terms.
As Ken Eisold, Ph.D., writes in Psychology Today, quoting research conducted by Newsweek, ""Handsome men earn, on average, 5 percent more than their less-attractive counterparts (good-looking women earn 4 percent more); pretty people get more attention from teachers, bosses, and mentors." (http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/hidden-motives/201007/the-power-beauty)
And here I thought the only way beauty was translated to actual monetary gain was either through beauty pageants or the escort service industry.
Besides, who could forget the claim of 90's "supermodel" Linda Evangelista, who (playfully) claimed, "Wedon't wake up for less than $10,000 a day."? (http://www.cassiecarpenter.com/post/3316805798/we-dont-wake-up-for-less-than-10-000-a-day-a) Is it a wonder then that countless others wish to partake of the "modeling pie", where you are basically paid for how you look, walk or are seen in designer clothes? When I hear of models whining about how hard their "job" is, I have had to stifle the urge to get a barf bag: How hard can a job be when it only demands that you be the luckiest person in the genetic lottery? Where's the "work" in that? Either you have it or you don't, period.
If you aren't part of "the lucky ones", don't despair: Beauty is available in a jar - or so they claim. Cosmetic companies - with revenues in billions of dollars - promise to wipe away the years off your face - for a fee, of course, this isn't a charitable project. Slick advertising portrays the opportunities and doors that will be opened to you if you are considered "beautiful". And just like what PANA (Philippine Association of National Advertisers) claims as its' byline, there really is "Truth In Advertising".
This reminded me of the survey that my friends from the UP School of Economics conducted - they won that year for the best undergraduate thesis university-wide - where they presented actual HR (Human Resources) managers with two equivalent resumes, one with a more obviously physically attractive appearance - and overwhelmingly, the "prettier" candidate always got the (hypothetical) job when asked "which of these 2 candidates would you hire"?
I have had to think twice about knocking those who lean too much on their beauty to get ahead in life. When scientific research is practically unanimous in announcing that beauty is an actual advantage in the workplace - other than the jaw-dropping awe everyone exhibits upon seeing a near-perfect specimen of humanity - it may be time to stop writing beauty off as a factor that is merely trivial or frivolous.
Upon closer inspection, it may spell the difference in getting the job or not.
My gut level response would be "to show off one's wealth". Which I find truly offensive, especially in a country like ours.
What would be the point in doing so?
I couch my incredulity and disbelief of the existence of these "society pages" on the basis of the economic realities of our lovely islands. Yes, yes, you should be proud of high purchasing power as a result of your hard work. No one can take that away from you. But to flaunt your high-end goods, the yacht parties and the decadent trips is a world away from being proud of one's monetary achievements.
- "Economic growth in the Philippines averaged 4.5% during the MACAPAGAL-ARROYO administration. Despite this growth, poverty worsened, because of a high population growth rate and inequitable distribution of income."
- 32.9% of our population live below the poverty line (rounding that off to 33%, that would be exactly 1/3 of our population)
- as of 2010, our unemployment rate stands at 7.3% (In a population of 90 million, that translates to roughly 6.5 million people unemployed.)
- this just in: the July 2011 estimate for our population now stands at 101,833,938, making us the 12th most populous nation in the world (and increasing the actual number of unemployed people, and we haven't even discussed underemployment in this equation as well)
This isn't exactly a rosy economic snapshot, and yet, strangely, week after week, we have sections in our national dailies entitled "Society" (or any permutations, thereof), which focus on the lives of the "ultra-rich glamorous jet-setters and their wild escapades", complete with party details (where the club is, how exclusive it is, how much a drink will set you back) and of course, let's not forget, complete snapshots of the chic party-goers in their oh-so-gorgeous killer dresses, chauffered in the latest sedans.
How can we thank these pages as well for the literary gems that we have now, thanks to these purveyors of "high class society": If you don't have a BFF (Best Friends Forever), or don't even know what that means, you're, like, so baduy noh. And if you're still not sure what course to take, may I suggest a bachelor's degree in "Eventology"? You get to party all night, drink like there's no tomorrow, and be one of a few to be called an "eventologist". (The suffix -logy has for its' root the word logos, and once you know what logos means, the term "eventology" becomes a joke and a half. As far as I know, there's only one person in the country who appropriates that term with pride. You could be next!)
You can't be seen in these "Society" pages if you don't have the proper footwear:
(Shoes by Louboutin)
The proper bag:
(Hermes Birkin bag)
Or you aren't using the proper moisturizer.
(Creme de La Mer, which retails for $1600 a bottle.)
Or how about those fashionable catfights (for the ladies) and brawls (for the guys), all of which are standard Society Page Decorum, the better to be gossiped and talked about?
Yes, a slice of the "rich life". If I wasn't being politically correct, I might say that everyone wishes to have a piece of that pie, that we can just throw away 67,200 pesos to ensure our skin will stay soft. (The price of the La Mer moisturizer in pesos.) Or maybe we can even do away with the cream and just go straight to the plastic surgeon - after all, high cheekbones and a pointy nose seem like requisites to be in those pages. (Do not forget the skin whitening treatments, as Filipinos are racists in general - yes, I said it aloud - and will look down on anyone with dark or black skin.)
Meanwhile, the rest of us have to struggle on a daily basis to make ends meet. While the "fabulous" party it up with a trip to Paris "just for the fun of it", some people cannot even earn 100 pesos a day to feed their family of 7. Juxtaposed with the scintillating glossies that perpetuate the myth of the glamorous life, it almost seems criminal to have these goods and parties thrown in our faces, when we live in a country that wakes up with the stench of poverty and sleeps under its' fitful gut-wrenching hunger.
Do we need to glorify pointlessness for the umpteenth time?
While channel surfing the other day, I chanced upon the TLC reality show of former Alaskan Governor, former US Vice Presidential Candidate (2008) and currently a 2012 possible contender to replace Obama, Sarah Palin, entitled "Sarah Palin's Alaska".
The show depicts her "normal day", as well as a mini-travelouge for the state, though it wasn't quite clear what exactly it was she does in an official capacity. In the particular episode I saw, she went white water rafting, signed the chainsaw of a lumberjack, and "fake argued" with her daughter who wanted a car for her 16th birthday.
One thing that struck me was when she talked about her daughter Bristol, the one who got pregnant, she mentioned that she wanted to take her away from the spotlight, as Bristol had received negative comments in general from the press and public.
So, of course, Sarah does the most logical thing: star in a reality show, and have her daughter Bristol appear in it as well.
HELLO. Is there no one else seeing the problem with this picture?
But then, how could we not see this coming? During the 2008 US presidential debates (when she got introduced for the first time to the national and international stage as McCain's running mate), she fervently espoused the efficiency of abstinence as a birth control method - and mere moments (in politics) later, her underage unwed daughter showed up with a baby bump, with an annnouncement that she would marry the father's child.
I guess when she batted for abstinence, she failed to check her own backyard.
Why is it so much fun to see the conservatives go down? And why do they enjoy the taste of feet so much?
She is but one in a long line of hypocrites who act so sanctimonious and so better-than-all-of-us, yet are guilty or party to an act that conservatives have long called "immoral".
Locally, how can we forget Bishop Teodoro Bacani?
When he appeared in the GMA "Grand Debate" earlier this year, proclaiming his sadness that in the RH Bill debates, the dimension of morality has been discarded, all everyone can think about was the news item that starred him, in 2003.
It wasn't enough that he laughed maniacally at his opponents in the debate, at every chance he could muster. It didn't matter that his arguments were nothing short of stupendous - stupendously out of touch with reality. He deigned to lecture everyone on the pitfalls of moral bankruptcy - that's rich. I'm not a saint, I know that, I never claimed to be one. But at least I've never been accused of ever forcing anyone in a sexually compromising manner. If the self-proclaimed "guardians of morality" cannot seem to refrain from their own amorous advances, on what laughable grounds can they now impose "holding off sex" as something doable for those they wish to consign to a life of celibacy as well?
We should also mention the former U.S. Senator Larry Craig.
A staunch opponent of everything "gay-friendly", the senator was caught in a now infamous bathroom scene in 2007 in Minneapolis, soliciting sex from a male police officer, making him such a go-to joke for the late night talk show circuit. He still vehemently denies that he is gay or has done anything "gay" in his life, decides to resign from the Senate because of the backlash his arrest could have on his political career, then withdraws that resignation, and continues finishing his term.
Right. Okay, we believe you. We also believe that child molestation is a consensual act.
And let's not forget on this list, Shirley Phelps Roper. The spokesperson of the Westboro Baptist Church, her church, headed by her father, Fred Phelps, espouses the belief that every word in the Bible must be followed to the end, and any and all "ills" in the world can be traced to ayone loving or supporting a homosexual.
(Picture above shows them picketing the funeral of Heath Ledger, who they say was "killed by God" for "potraying homosexuals in a positive light".)
Some time ago, they agreed to have their daily lives filmed by a British interviewer (BBC's Louis Theroux). He filmed them "ala reality show", a camera following them around as they proceeded to sing in church, or making picket signs, etc. Theroux was able to ascertain that Shirley herself had a child out of wedlock, and when he commented that it was rather hypocritical that she wished to impose her religious views on the world, when she herself could not "follow to the letter" what it was she was preaching, she then invoked the "I have made my peace with my God" line.
Since they have continued preaching their gospel, I thought it would be enlightening to see what fruits their sermons have borne. (Please note that the WBC's members are primarily the (extended) family only, with only a very few who can be considered "outsiders".)
Doesn't this give you a gooey, warm, fuzzy feeling inside? (Video clip above courtesy of youtube.com, uploaded by OnKneesForJesus. Again, my question was both rhetorical and sarcastic - it surprises me how many people are irony-challenged.)
I don't know about you, but if this is a sampling of what valuable lessons we can learn from the so-called "paragons of morality", then I'd rather not take anything these "leaders" say with any weight nor value.
How unfortunate then that many people still do not see them for who they truly are: Hypocrites.
Someone has commented that I seem to take a hard line on hypocrites - something I can't really deny - but then that person made the mistake of adding "well, maybe you should consider that you're not also perfect". Excuse me. I never claimed to be perfect, nor an angel, nor any other virtuous label that ever existed. The problem is that these people above did. And my next problem is that they are seen as some authority on what to consider as right and wrong. In the end, we all have to make our own moral decisions, but I certainly will not be getting help from these four - and countless others like them - in making them.
