Far From Neutral Notions - Philippine politics, culture and stuff

Speaking in front of reporters for what would seemingly have been the thousandth time, George Mallory gives the almost snide, immortal response to the question “why climb Mt. Everest”: because it is there. Now, 84 years later, one man looks back at what Mallory must have faced when attempting to tame the wildest frontier known to man, as he himself prepares to undertake a perilous journey of his own.

I sometimes wonder what Mallory must have been thinking, cold, stranded and slowly losing mobility, struggling to breathe the thin air, prolonging for a few seconds more — a few seconds more! — a life that was better lived than any. Here was a man who dared to do things. A man who, at 38, had a richer storehouse of experience than those twice, thrice his age. A man of action, vigor and strength, helpless to prevent the dying of his once-raging light under the onslaught of the most unforgiving region on the face of the planet.

In his last moments, knowing that the end is near, did he ever regret his impetuousness? His audacity? His brazen defiance of all that stood taller, prouder, mightier than he? Some might call it hubris, that endearing yet ultimately infuriating and damning characteristic of all great Shakespearean and Greek heroes. And there’s one thing all heroes have in common, as well: they die, in the end.

I wonder about that increasingly these days, as I prepare myself for my first climb: Mt. Gulugud-Baboy. Yes, it’s only 300-or-so feet above sea level. And yes, it is, for all intents and purposes, a freaking hill. But I cannot escape the same sense of dread Mallory must have felt, all those years ago, when nature responded to his challenge. Will I fare better, I wonder, when Gaia throws down the gauntlet? Am I on a fool’s errand, wasting my bargain-basement life in attempting to conquer this… err… peak? Will I venture forth into that summit, only to be, like Mallory, never heard from again?

God help me, but I don’t care. I must do this. Because it is there.

</melodrama>

I can’t wait! Whee! Leave no trace, everyone! Whee!

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R-18 Alert! If you are below 18 and or have delicate sensibilities… wtf are you doin’ here anyway?

That said, I suppose introductions are in order. Snapshots is an on-going chronicle of Syd’s more inane impromptu YM conversations — sometimes with yours truly — and can be found here: the Sydman Show. Check it out for more info.

This episode is one that was never supposed to see the light of CRT-illumination; it was just too gross. To illustrate, this story begins with Syd asking me this question:

May isang kilalang adik sa Bulacan na pumunta sa isang bahay (trespassing) tapos nagdala ng manok. Tapos tinira nya ung manok […]

I think we’ve established the gross-out factor by now, haven’t we?

Definitely not for the queasy: Bootleg Snapshot

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’nuff said.

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The idea of the “big break” is a relatively old one, most likely dating back to the first time someone thought to themselves “Hey, I can do that!” while watching someone on stage, or the big screen. Because stars aren’t born or made — they’re discovered. And maybe, just maybe, if it was you at the right place, at the right time? Whatever, you get the idea.

It plays perfectly to our sensibilities, because it’s a shortcut, albeit a very random one, and everybody loves shortcuts. Without the need to work hard and pay their dues to an unforgiving industry, those lucky enough to be “discovered” are catapulted to instant stardom: fame, fortune and glory.

It is thus the most wonderful absurdity of 21^st century television that the media networks (and, lately, products), in an effort to become more efficient in snagging the next great star, have centralized the process of “discovery”. It’s less random and certainly effective, marketing-wise. Hell, it’s genius: while you’re looking for your next star, the machinery for promoting him/her is already running. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

Nevermind that it’s exploitative, degrading, and totally exposes our populist bias.

That said, everyone, meet Chino, the dog:

See the rest of the be/bengka contestants at my Multiply.

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Syd just posted one of our more inane YM conversations in his Multiply. Here’s an excerpt:

The Sydman: Dude anyway, ang pH scale ng Skyflakes is 3.87 - 1.3 less than the appropriate testing grounds for a chocolate powder. I don’t know about you pero I think mali ang mga scientists na nagsabi niyan.

jorgecosgayon: WTF!?! May mali ka sa assumption mo e. Ina-assume mo na Ovaltine is chocolate powder. Hindi! Powdered pawis ng Negro ang Ovaltine na hinaluan ng kopra! And for powdered sweat with kopra, 3.87 is sufficient!

Unfortunately, I forgot what substance we were abusing at the time, so I guess you’ll just have to discuss it with your local runner. Err. What?

A woman drove me to drink and I never even had the courtesy to thank her.

More:

pwnage.

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Um, so yeah.  :mrgreen:

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Or, the cutest five second clip on the internet.

Come on, that was just absolutely the most adorable thing you’ll ever see.

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I have six posts that will never see the light of CRT/LCD day because they just suck. But in the meantime, feast on these domain ideas that (somehow) came up in my conversations with the sydman, more than half of which I want to register:

• malakabayo.com
• bonerforbostjan.com
• nookiefornachbar.com
• poseforposey.com
• dirkmynowitzki.com
• dwaynemywade.com
• manumyginobili.com
• lebronmyjames.com
• smushmyparker.com
• pennymyhardaway.com
• magicmyjohnson.com
• grantmyhill.com
• alonzomymorning.com
• denvermynuggets.com

Talk about unintentional porn. LOL.

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Ok, here’s the deal: the last pair of shoes I own are old school Adidas campus sneakers that have long since given up the ghost, their soles (get it?) rotting in shoe hell. Ever since my ingrown nails flared up some ten odd years ago, I’ve been a tsinelas-or-bust guy. And because of mom’s ingenius idea to coordinate with all of my known relatives when it comes to giving me gifts, I have become a walking, talking, true-blue Lee Pipes endorser. On the upside, every shirt they now give me for Christmas or my birthday fit perfectly, and outside of kinky underwear (oops) I’ve never had to buy a single article of clothing in three years. The downside? Well, they’re all Lee Pipes, and outside of kinky underwear (oops again) I’ve never had to buy a single article of clothing in three years.

I also don’t have a single pair of slacks to my name. That still fit, anyway.

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