THE MATRIX

The Wachowskis’ “The Matrix” starring the young and fresh Keanu Reeves was a groundbreaking movie if we speak about computer generated images or digital effects.  If my memory’s still reliable as my heart is, it’s one if not the very first film that popularized “bullet time” and used freeze-scene-then-rotate 360 degrees techniques. 

I could still vividly remember how I was so much awed by those slo-mo and quick shots where concrete walls and posts, gradually crisped and crushed by the super bullets from Agent Smith’s group who all appeared like ghosts.  Aside from the Bible, wherein it means ‘womb’, it was from that movie that I first encountered the word Matrix wherein Morpheus described it as “the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from [all the truths].”

At the time, the Matrix was so very mind-boggling indeed.  Right after we had seen the movie, I was scared to death.

Today, there’s a kind of matrix that scares everyone around too, that is, if you are a drug lord or drug protector from the government sector or the world of politics.  Once your name is on the list of that matrix, sorry, you’re as good as dead, as henceforth, you would only be living like a rust, the only thing that never sleeps.

Woe unto you, pushers and addicts, especially if you belong to organisms and species that have discovered riches in shabu and its omnipresent laboratories.  Be sober, be vigilant, watch out each time Digong opens a matrix because surely death is coming your way any minute, faster than those speeding bullets.

Nevertheless, not all the time that when someone or something opened a matrix, sadness would surge, that we must cringe in trepidation or panic to death until we would consider jumping off the gorge.  Once upon a time in Israel, when a living thing opened the matrix, the people would rejoice with roars, as “all that openeth the matrix, and every firstling that cometh of a beast,…. the males shall be the Lord’s (Exodus 13:12; 34:19).

Like me, being the male child who opened the matrix, the firstborn in the family, the Law of Moses would consider me a sanctified one for His Majesty.  But after the dispensation of grace after Christ’s death at Calvary, firstborn or not, male or female, we can only be sanctified by faith individually (Eph. 2:8).

This is the good news, friends, in the eyes of the Mighty God, no one is beyond redemption or excluded in His free salvation.  All men and women who acknowledge their sins and believe in Jesus as their Lord and Savior are freed from condemnation (Rom.8:1; John 3:18)

Even if in the past they were verified long-time notorious drug lords, protectors, pushers and addicts.  As angels rejoice over one soul that repents, for he is the Lord’s, regardless of who opened the matrix (Luke 15:7,10).

NO FURY LIKE A MAN SCORNED

“Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides…” - - - Louis de Bernières

When I woke up yesterday morning I was shocked by the scorching news that greeted me.  Let me describe such news’ summary through the paraphrased lyrics of Peter, Paul and Mary:

“Puff,” the tragic Dragon, killed near the sea; when he frolicked in after The Stone he missed in the land called Camp Crame.

I believe it was long anticipated that such unfortunate incident would happen to The Dragon soon or late, but I think it never occurred to anyone’s mind that The Dragon’s devoted wife would suffer the same fate.  But it did.  She’s also dead.

As I paused for a moment to think, whoever did it, or caused it to be done, maybe he or she is very upset too, no, so angry, with the woman.  Ahh, envious women, look what you have done, you were fighting for equality with a man so you are not exempted anymore to the fury of a gun.

Looking back, so far, I think only twice in my life that I have had been so enraged with a female kind where it really felt so bad.  First was with my fourth grade classmate named Glenda, and the other was with a certain Gilda during my first year in the job.

My tussle with Glenda was a laughable experience because nothing serious there as it was just ‘away-bata,’ pure and simple.  The one with Gilda was more shameful because it revealed how so naïve I was in the name of love, how stupid, what a fool!

In both times, I caused my own undoing, it was me who provoked Glenda to anger that caused her to throw a banana peeling that smacked right on my face.  I could not take the laughter of our amused classmates that my instant reaction was murderous after I’d been hit and picked a garden hoe and gave her a chase.

Gilda was a lawyer’s secretary who when she visited my jobsite, right at first sight I quickly felt some fatal attraction.  I asked for her office’s phone number fast and told her I would fetch her therein right after my duty in the afternoon.

She sweetly consented.  My heart was exhilarated.  I could hardly contain my pure excitement; I arrived at their law office on that same day at five fifteen.   Nevertheless, I was shocked there to see her being held around her waist by her handsome boyfriend.  I could not explain exactly until now what I did feel then.  Betrayed?  Been set up?  Dunno.  But I was quite in seething pain.

Thank God on both occasions I was still able to pull myself back and regather my senses.  Evil thoughts entered the mind of a man humiliated judging from those experiences.

Of course, considering the years I have already accumulated, I’ve had been upset with many other women many times in my life.  Yet only in those times that my anger was too much for them that in a spur of the moment I thought of taking away someone’s life.

Sometimes, a sudden burst of overwhelming emotion is so hard to control if we are under the pull of the flesh.  No wonder James The Just reminded us about a Christian’s conduct about fury through God’s grace (James 1:19-20).

As a human being living in a world of different types of people, yeah, we can’t avoid to be mad.  But we must not let ourselves be totally drowned by our sinful nature:  “Be ye angry, and sin not” (Eph.4:26).

LES MISERABLES

 [Edited from August 26, 2011 at 12:42pm]

“Remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things: but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.” (Luke 16:25)

I’m frustrated. And exasperated. 

Seething as I wonder why this is still our kind of system. The system of our government. Our judicial system.

I have a close relative who was employed as ordinary worker, actually earning way, way below the minimum wage.  But every payday, he was compelled to sign a blank document, if not statement averring he was paid in prevailing rate. That’s irregularity in employment practice.  Yet regularity in payment, on paper, for peace.

He was merely a helper-laborer hired by untouchable Transparent Contractor, Inc., which was, still is, owned by Mayor Immaculate and family.  That company was the ‘winning,’ ahem-ahem, bidder-contractor of a public construction project of the mayor’s saintly municipality.

My relative is now incarcerated.

Reason, he was charged, along with two other companions, for qualified theft, for allegedly selling two sacks of scrap iron. 

I repeat scrap iron, to a junk shop for 850 pesos, I repeat 850 pesos, to stress a point for general information.

The three were immediately detained after having been reported by the mayor to the police. After a “hot pursuit operation” cliché, since they were not caught in flagrante, that is.

This is the beauty of democracy, people reported to be stealing millions, billions, but remain scot-free. People reported to be stealing scrap iron worth 850 and they are detained automatically.

I don’t know about you but I think I heard my dear friend Webster said the word “scrap” means something like old or refuse metal, discarded after use.  Something of a waste, a thrash, a garbage, like a master’s crumbs that drop down the floor where the dogs scramble as hunger’s a surety if you lose.

Ahh, the joys of penury.

I remember again the story about a dedicated police Inspector Javert and his relentless “hot pursuit operation” against one Jean Valjean in the name of rule of law only.  Starting from a simple theft of a loaf of bread for his sister’s seven children starving desperately, Valjean was hounded and hunted by Javert almost throughout eternity.

My relative is just another datum indeed in the statistics about men’s justice. Since birth I saw his roots’ struggles, most of their years were colored drab. In the vastness of an ocean called life, he’s just a mere insignificant crab.

Like most of us who are just trying to make each day count despite being bereft of love.  Love from politicians who are rich and powerful, but deep within, are also les miserables.

AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN

(Note:  Edited excerpts from August 24, 2011 at 2:28pm)

“Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6).

Last Saturday, I brought my 6-year-old Simond Saved to his pedia due to a minor stomach ailment, which later became one of that day’s fears.  On a clear sunny day, he’d be riding tandem with me on my Nokia 125, but rain transformed us both then and there into ordinary bus commuters.

On our way back home, I saw a gorgeous woman, a uniformed police officer bound for Antique. She was standing at the aisle very patiently. The bus was full; most of the passengers were sleepy.

And I was in a quandary.

I found myself asking if I should sacrifice that hour of rest of mine for my beloved son.  And I asked myself if it’s high time he’d be taught about culture, tradition and wisdom.

My eyes compassionately gazed at my sleeping child one more time. I beheld his innocence; he was still lightyears away from his prime.  I whispered to him I had to mold his dreams. I had to shape his future. I had to design his destiny.  For tomorrow, whether I’d like it or not, he would be free choosing for himself his own preferred way.

Next to God’s wisdom he should be educated about the tradition of men. But first and foremost, he should start living with respect for women. If my son’s tomorrow would make him a cop too, then he must be an incorruptible officer and a very fine gentleman all through.

And the first step to become a gentleman is to have constant care for a woman. You don’t cause her annoyance, neither break her heart, you give her importance.  You’ve to open the door for her, you cover her and stay left.  That’s when you two are crossing a one-way eastward street.

And remember constantly to give up your seat swiftly, right upon seeing her on the bus standing-room-only.

Yeah, that instant would be a perfect OJT moment for my son.  He had to learn it at once, the Lesson A in Gentlemanship 101.

As before us was a lady in distress, obviously exhausted, tired and stressed.  My flesh and everything inside out were urging me that to my child I’d say this:  “Son, giving up your seat in favor of a woman is a class act of a perfect gentleman.”

But I was able to hold my tongue, although still warring inside me were propriety and passion.  Thank God I remembered decency, maybe it wasn’t time yet for such type of education. 

For my son was then in deep slumber as he quietly sat.  And, besides, he was comfortably SITTING ON MY LAP.

HELLO KITTY

(Originally posted:  August 23, 2012 at 8:51am) 

I was nonchalantly strolling somewhere in the virtual world one late afternoon and temporarily ignoring friends and acquaintances along the way, for I was near exhaustion from the real dimension and just couldn’t think of the right things to say.

I just wanted to while away the hours to renew my strength siphoned by the day’s pressure and its nitty-gritty, when my eyes suddenly caught the sight of an old familiar figure, shining like gold in exceeding great beauty yet the shadow of her simplicity was still glaring: a doll Hello Kitty.

I didn’t know what I felt in that instant, unsure whether it was a mix of or just it was plain excitement or fear or shame, for it took me a couple of minutes to regain composure as if I’ve been jolted after a night’s bad dream.

I picked her up though, and feasted my eyes on every part of that once my most beloved doll. I held her softly with instinctive tenderness as I recalled my first attraction on her so fatal (don’t get me wrong, I’m still a he and as ever will always be, I just didn’t know exactly why I came to love this doll wholeheartedly).

My Hello Kitty was a gift from a friend, one of my heavenly life’s best friends. Then, when I was playing this doll, I always felt ashamed, not for the reason that I am a guy, but because I was convinced I didn’t deserve her even to touch her eyes.

But as little time went by, I overcame such shame that was later replaced by pride. And I could sense subsequently those other guys’ blazing eyes green with envy. And from that point, I went out the house no more without parading Hello Kitty.

But as some things were not meant to be, the doll was taken away. I lost too that self-confidence I learned to build through playing with that little big dolly. I tried so many other dolls and toys of different variety, but nothing would even come close to my favorite Hello Kitty.

When my playing days were over I faced life thereafter with no more toys to play as I found myself having a girl already and two boys who’d bray. Now that the past had caught up with me surprisingly I continued my cursory inspection of that just newly found doll that might have had lost her way.

The same features were present, the same reflection that needed not be preened. The same silky skin, the same Helenic face that could launch a thousand submarines.

As I looked around while still holding the doll in great confusion, a smiling dashing gentleman came over and pointed a finger to Hello Kitty’s direction. I was still dazed as I handed the expressionless little big doll to him reluctantly. It wasn’t my old dolly that I found that day, yet, I smiled when I realized suddenly, that just the same, it was Hello Kitty.

A LESSON FROM BRIGHT EYES

(Memories from August 23, 2011 at 2:39pm)

WATER’S abundant in the heavens. Or so it seems.

Rainy days are here again. Farmers rejoice when this season comes but saltmakers seething tears would fill in many drums.

This season reminds me too of a very beautiful young lady, so full of charms. So filled with spice. And everything nice.

I exclusively called her “Bright Eyes.”

Fact was, not just her eyes that were shining bright. But so were her nose. Her ears. Her brows. Everything in her glittered and glowed.

It was when I started dreaming of her while she was on sight, when Art Garfunkle's’ “Bright Eyes” suddenly filled the airwaves in the night.

The year’s 1988. First sem. When cats and dogs were raining.

I was still then drunk with joy after having been allowed and admitted in the Commerce Department of the USA (the San-Ag, not the Master of Colony). I was a trasferee. I came straight from the Arkee Department wherein I could not even pass a mere quiz, much less, a prelim exam in Analytic Geometry. 

For how could I be analytic when I did not even know what geometry was in the first place?

I passed high school maths by sticking to an age-old adage for employment: “It’s not by what you know but whom you know.” With some help of reason and persuasion… and begging 75’s too.

I could still remember the scene the first time I met her.

Aurora Subdivision. Boarding house. I was happy to be grouped together in one room with two double-decks, with my best pal Pongkie, his bro Zenon, and my one and only bro Nono. 

We were gathered one night by the Lady of the House at the sala to let all the boarders know each other. The four of us were busy huddling, sizing up and rating each and every face arriving. And with the Lady presiding, the meeting jumpstarted to its sole purpose that evening.

As a male boardmate was in the middle of his stammering, my eyes turned upon the staircase. And suddenly caught an angel descending from which. Effortlessly swaying her dangerous curve and hips. And when she took her seat, we were mesmerized by her charm and grace.

She of Venusian beauty. If not the reincarnated Aphrodite.

She had easily piled up so many suitors. In and out of the boarding house. But she evaded them all like the plague. As she said suitors would only make her judgment vague. She revealed she only wanted friends. Thus I saw an opening.

When other alpha males would scramble at her feet, my eyes would pass by her as if she did not exist. And I was shocked the following night when, as I went out of my classroom at 6:30, in the next room I saw her smile and her imposing beauty. When I checked the posted schedule at the door, I found out she’d be out at 8:30. 

I did not went back to the boarding house. I whiled away the hours. Two hours of waiting was a very small price. If you were staring the whole time at your Miss Bright Eyes.

The bell rang at 8:30. And busy bodies mixed up suddenly in all classrooms, some were gathering bags and make-up, some were gathering storm. As she hurriedly went for the door, I deliberately crossed her path and bumped her right shoulder without touching her upfront treasure. Feigning surprise, I informed her I had just discovered we had the same schedule every night. And to my genuine surprise, she was so happy to know it, for, starting that time, there would be someone who would go with her back to the boarding house every night.

And from then, the whole first sem was almost heaven. For what would you feel when you walk with someone special under the rain? And when the lone umbrella you were both holding, your hands over her hands over the handle, almost took both of you up in the air?

A walk in the clouds in every night. Of a shining lady and the silent knight. Amid the talks and laughters’ flight, still a repressed love was out of her sight. 

I was so scared to get busted.

I never veered away from her trust the whole time. I knew she considered me a friend like Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. Little did she know she was then a true love of mine. For under the rain, she was my sunshine.

I quit school after that sem. I sailed and tried my “luck” in the Big City to begin my first stab at glory. After a week, I wrote her to reveal my deep secret. And she wrote back in words to this effect: “Tatz, you should have revealed it to me upclose and personal and risked failing. Who knows, you might win. Do not take league with those who did not experience the pain of losing nor the glory of winning just because they were so afraid to risk something.”

The Proverbs was right: “Open rebuke is better than secret love.” (27:5).

CHANGING HEARTS

I’m so happy for Brazil today for bagging finally their first ever gold medal in Olympic men’s soccer/football.  I never stopped believing in them, I knew seeing that country gold-less for long would be next to impossible.

But my heart belongs to their women volleyball team after they were ousted in the race by the newly crowned champs Chinese.  I felt the agony of the crowd in tears, knowing that among their religions, next to soccer, I sure think volleyball is the biggest. 

And to think that their tormentor was, of all countries, China which I really thought did not even have a Chinaman’s chance.  Yet, to paraphrase my favorite cliché, all is fair in love and Olympics, even if what you hear only are your enemy’s chants.  Perhaps the still dumbfounded Brazilian ladyspikers would like to think that when they were soundly beaten, they were not awake.  And I could only wish the Chinese victory was, especially the latest, like their products the world always known to be:  fake.

Please don’t judge me harshly if my sympathy is to Brazil instead of our Asian neighbor who gave the heavily favored South American squad such surprising loss.  Between me and China, yes, there’s no love lost, yet don’t blame it to the West Philippine Sea row but to the one and only love of mine in volleyball:  Ms. Leila Barros.

Yes, Leila Barros came at a time when I was healing myself back from emotional destruction while I was still a fumbling nocturnal student of friar-run University of San Agustin.  It happened one night when after my last night class then, I saw her being watched by my mucho gigolo housemates on TV while she was playing in a world volleyball game.

Since then, for more successive nights I would think only of volleyball and skip my class that started at 9PM.  I loved to make a viand out of her games, I watched her while I ate dinner:  that was in 1997. 

Yes, I loved Leila three years before the starstruck Filipino male idolaters worshipped her when she strutted around her wares here in Manila back in 2000.  Yes, I was already an avid, no, crazy follower of Leila although the newly installed very first internet service in San Ag had yet to hear about FB and Instagram.

I have loved Brazil just because of Leila then and even sworn to her posters I’d do forever and would never ever change.  But alas, when I met my soon-to-be-wife classmate in Marketing the name Leila Barros went beyond my lying heart’s range.

Truly, as far as loving and paying vows are concerned, it seems no one has ever been constant in this Earth, living or dead.  People love to vow on someone’s grave but sooner or later we find the heart to be quite deceitful and desperately wicked (Jer.17:9).  For we know that all flesh change frivolously.  It is in its nature, being born imperfectly.

Only one Man in history and the Scriptures never changes and is a perfect lover.

Who else but the Man-God Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today and forever (Hebrew 13:8).

THE PAST AND THE FURIOUS

(Note:  Posted on cyberspace on August 17, 2011 at 12:49pm.  At a time when I was, to quote Maid Miriam, “not angry.  [But]… irate… foaming in the mouth… homicidal… suicidal… humiliated, debased, degraded.”  Nevertheless, I was so grateful I was still able to hold my punches.  And instead, in my God I sought refuge and found my rest.)

[Reference passages: Luke 5:1-6]

I was fuming mad. Though the root cause was due to my own stupidity in its greatest heights (or deepest low, take your pick), the rage was consuming myself so bad. I was angry at myself too for putting trust in the flesh and blood.

I desperately sought diversion to keep my nerves relaxed. And I subsequently remembered the [passage of] history quoted above.

This was the best quality of Simon (from whom I named after my second son): Impulsively obedient. His reply to the Master would never stop to amaze me. It was in the character of the man to obey his Lord at any given time.

Of course, he was the same Simon, who was later named Peter (the Rock, not the Rocker) who denied he knew Jesus, not once, not twice, but thrice, yet, when it comes to obeying the Lord’s command, he would never do otherwise. Even if he knew that to obey, logic and reason should be defied.

In that story, had Simon relied only to his own self as a seasoned fisherman, surely, he would never follow Jesus’ order to let down the fishing net again, much less in that moment since being a battle-scarred veteran whose the sea probably considered his domicile, his carnal mind could be certain that to exert another effort to do so would still prove futile.

They spent the whole previous night fishing, scouring, combing the sea, again and again, but caught nothing. If the fish could easily avoid their nets in the dark of the night, prudence dictates that they could evade the same with their eyes closed in the presence of sunlight.

But Simon was obedience personified. His words in that story were gloriously immortalized: “Master, we have toiled all the night, and have taken nothing, NEVERTHELESS AT THY WORD I will let down the net.” What happened next was a draught of fish which, due to its vast number, caused some nets to break.

It’s really so difficult to follow Simon’s footsteps. Here, a fellow had wronged me, the one my flesh considered as my current bitter enemy. And the Lord said, “Love your enemies…” (Matthew 5:44; Luke 6:27). Can I say also to my God, my enemy caused my toiling of sleepless night, NEVERTHELESS AT THY WORD, I will let down my anger’s net with delight?

At the end of the day, I know the choice is mine. I know I can forgive. As God forgave. Not of my own power. Only because of His sufficient grace.

A GIFT IN THE NIGHT

(Edited from August 15, 2011 at 1:28pm)

One night, I was in a hurry to catch the last trip back home when my stomach growled, I knew, to ignore it could be fatal. It did demand something in demand from the nocturnal street food chain in front of the most expensive St. Paul’s Hospital: 

That something was “Linậ-gậ.”

I had just miraculously finished an entire game of basketball, what else, being my top sporting passion, despite my bereft of skill and talent for the game.  This is the sole driving force behind the still running, though wobbly, limbs, with the solicitors of the Iloilo Chapter whom in their profession they’ve found fame.

Some of whom are a way ahead of me in years, and in running full court as well, but their shooting accuracy was a truly a marvel.  Some are seemed to be born only yesterday, with their fresh face and brute force like steel, but with basketball IQ that’s below sea level.

As I ordered one order of that “linậ-gậ,” take out, not dine-in, in view of the pouring rain, I suddenly saw a familiar face. The omnipresent vagabond beggar I met in every nook and cranny of the city, drifting around always.  She was then sitting on the bench of the waiting shed marked “Through The Efforts Of Congressman…” not worth another word, I tell you. I had already a name for her through the years: “Madam Pilgrim of the Earth,” whose arms and elbows at night serve as her pillow.

With chin on one bended knee, which she hugged like a long lost baby, she was freezing and obviously hungry. It was now drizzling and night was falling, the sight tore my heart apart, my spirit crushed, what’d you do if you were me?

Then I immediately ordered another one for the old woman (I was initially tempted to copy what then a fellow customer said to a waiter in one restaurant short on sleaze.   When he ordered another one, similar to his previous order, he pronounced in well for his gorgeous date: “Make it twice please”).

Immediately thereafter, I handed to her that one order to help her survive the night at least, and that when I’d leave her later I would never feel bad.  Yet, to my shock and awe, she swatted away the plastic bag, letting the “linậ-gậ” spill on the road, and be devoured by the oily black waters of the flood.

The eyes of the witnesses at the time were apparently nonchalant as they covered their mouth in aghast, but I was so sure their shaking shoulders gave away the arcane laughter so fast.

I would have wanted to get mad. I would have liked the insult to be traded back. I wanted to help her honestly, but look what she did to me.  This despite I gave up for her that night  my only left spare money. 

But my anger swiftly subsided when I realized this was probably what had God the Father felt too when He gave His only Son to this world as a gift.  And the world in return, instead of receiving such greatest precious gift, turned the King of Kings down, and they have Jesus Christ rejected.

My offering of love was not consummated. Truly, a gift is not a gift until it is received.

I'M SORRY...

Now that’s a leader! This was my cheerful reaction upon reading for the first time that news piece saying the indescribable Rodrigo R. Duterte did apologize to Ms. Sereno, our Lady Chief Justice.  The man’s truly a gentleman regardless of what others may say who he is, it’s in his nature indeed, I can only say that Rody and I have something in common:  a woman is both our weakness!

Now, as what have seen and heard too around the country, what a leader really is this male president in Mr. Duterte.  Compared to a woman in Ms. Arroyo when she was in her full glory, Rody’s totally different when saying “I’m sorry.”

So far, this eccentric but sincere Commander-In-Chief never fails to amaze me, but before you pro/anti-Duterte out there judge me, I confess before every one of you, I never voted for Rody!  But I also did not pick Mar, the son of Judy, neither Jejomar, a god of Makati, well, blame it upon Nonoy Atong, Rody’s financier, after he failed then to give me a Digong T-shirt, until today!

I admit I never saw it coming, considering his tough guy persona and seemingly ‘unwhisperable’ attitude especially so when someone caused his temper to surge.  The least I would expect from him is to offer an apology to a ‘mere’ ‘Number Three’ in the hierarchy of this country inhabited by wolves also known as drug lords.

Deep inside me, I may not agree with a Duterte policy about instant ‘execution’ of a street person he perceives as ‘beyond redemption’—unless he does the same to narco governors, mayors, congresspersons and generals to PO1’s who essentially are all guilty of treason.  But I totally agree with his such personal decision.  Especially that Duterte did it on national television.

For me, Rody Duterte’s act of contrition and sorry never diminished a bit of his macho image or itself the presidency.  Rather, it enhanced his manhood and bolstered his stock much more as a leader who knows, goes and shows the way.  Rody has taught us once more that it’s in humility that we gain compassions of the heart.  For we saw what Justice Sereno did, she instantly accepted his apology, every bit and every part.

Like Chicago, it was also hard for me to say I was sorry, but I’ve proven later along life’s way that asking forgiveness from anyone I have offended is gaining sure peace of mind with everybody.  Even the Lord God would forgive a soul readily, if the latter humbles himself before Him, says he’s sorry for his sins, and accepts Jesus Christ as the Lord and Savior of his life for all eternity (Ps. 51:16-17; Acts 16:31).

THE BEST PRODUCT

Thursday evening, August 11, I happened to watch in the news Olympian Silver medalist Hidilyn Diaz while she strode slowly on her way out of NAIA.  It took only several seconds for me to join basking in her glory with her newly found charisma and right in that instance she was mobbed like an “artista.”

She has been accorded a hero’s welcome, totally unlike the kind given to “Villain” Vhon Tanto by General Ronald ‘Bato’ Dela Rosa.  The lady weightlifter, an Air Force personnel, was swarmed by grateful greeters led by a group of vultures also known as the media.  Truly, as they say, victory has many fathers, like a harlot’s son.  And like a runaway drug lord or pusher, defeat is an orphan.

It was written all over her determined face, that video clip of Hidilyn’s winning moment says it all, to say the least.  It captured completely how she summoned her last strength to the fullest for all the world to see she truly gave her best.

We must be thankful she didn’t suffer the fate of her young male counterpart from Armenia who twisted and broke his 20-year-old bone and elbow.  It was a heroic effort from him too, we saw what a true competitor would do, Olympic medal is indeed worth the try, even at the expense of an arm or two.

After twenty years, I am so glad there is a Hidilyn Diaz who managed to bring home the bacon in silver platter, so to speak.  The sweet part is, whom she bested for the next best medal was no other than the Chinese, a fake country already at its peak. 

After twenty years, another unknown sports hero saved the day for our athletes out of nowhere.  After twenty years, someone simply showed up in there to be our national pride redeemer.  Her homeplace must be so proud of its best product so far.  For she put it in the Olympic map, making it likewise a star.

And of all places, the graceful but strong Hidilyn’s origin is Zamboanga City of the island of Mindanao, the so-called Land Of Promise.  So who says nothing good has come out of Mindanao just yet?  Certainly, not my friend Zol, who would always find grace in war and peace.

Centuries ago, Nathanael was told that finally seen was Jesus of Nazareth Who was written about by Moses and the prophets.  And similar question had Nathanael likewise been bluntly posited to Philip:  “Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?” (John 1:46 KJV).

There could, there can, there was, there is, as later Nathanael did discover, and He’s no less than Jesus Christ, his very own Redeemer.  Not quite the good, neither the better, but the best thing to ever come out of Nazareth, not for twenty years, but from there to forever.

MAD

“A man who has never made a woman angry is a failure in life.”- - - Christopher Morley

Staying up till almost midnight last night I found delight as I watched Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton hurling mud at each other for the preliminary of their oncoming fight in the US presidential election.  I caught CNN Philippines late because my remote stuck when I switched it to NBA archives featuring 1987 LA versus Boston, the reason why I saw them only when CNN’s show was already in conclusion.

But I still heard each other’s segments of accusation, which is related to sanity issue, to each his own rhetorics to employ.  Those sewed scenes of fiery speeches from both camps sowed confusion in my mind who between them is the real McCoy.

They traded barbs, they fought tooth and nail.  You’d wonder who is stooping to whose level.  And I remember that fine old maxim which is clad in a shod:  “Those whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad.”

I agree, a man gone crazy is worse than being deprived of life and liberty.  He is just like a walking dead, a curse to himself, to his family, to society.  Even avengers of blood would have a change of heart once they see that their target marked for death has gone deranged and wild.  They know what he’s suffering is a lot more painful than to be killed a couple of times as it would be simply like being buried alive.

Even King Achish of the Philistines let David go although he and his people recognized the latter as the one who killed their giant warrior Goliath.  It was because they thought David, through his Oscar-ish act, really went mad when he escaped to the land of the Philistines to flee from King Saul’s wrath (1 Samuel 21:9-15).

Like the world today, speak about Christ and more likely than not, they would find you crazy.  For them, Christ is only a religion, forgetting that He never teaches religion but life for eternity. 

That anyone can be saved by faith, others believe this hard.  But I’d say, do not underestimate His grace and great love. 

“For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God” (1 Cor.3:19).

DUPLICITY

To be honest, I don’t think Donald Trump, the best—or the beast, depending which side you’re upon—will be easily trampled under foot by Ms. Hillary Clinton comes election time for the Americans.  I say this because people know no one can predict exactly how US voters think in general.  They are an eccentric race, one day they vote for humans, next day they chose an animal.

What if on Election Day the grumbling Yankees think of Granny Hillary but vote for Grumpy Trumpy?  If that happens, time to go, Bebe, let’s all swim to China, here comes Warhead-1, Donald’s courtesy.

Why?  It’s because we are branded by Donald, not related to Ronald McDonald, as a terrorist country among places in the world classified as independent.  If that is so, let’s band together, dear countrymen, help me find that liar who labeled the Philippines as the only Christian nation this side of the continent.

But wait, let’s be frank, man, who do you think is a real liar between Trump and that labeling someone?  If Donald believes our country is haven of terrorists, why is he building Trump Tower in Makati’s land?  Well, if we peace-loving Filipinos are defined by the word “felicity,” Donald Trump can’t be refined by any word because of his duplicity.

So, you see now when ambition, greed and net proceeds grip the heart of an individual?  Trump is a businessman, he’ll war with us, but if we buy his arms he’ll fill our arsenal.  That’s why he’s not only hated by the great wall-fearing Mexicans.  Trump is outrageously despised even by his fellow Republicans.

I can imagine Abraham Lincoln, the Greatest Republican perhaps, seething in his grave likewise.  He could not believe his beloved party has been gate-crashed by Mr. Naughty rather than Mr. Nice.

Even Christ during His ministry, would easily get angry with people who practice duplicity, or they who say one thing and doing another:  The hypocrites, who “appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness” like a “whited sepulchre” (Matthew 23:27).

Same with me, I was no different yesterday:  I too was a wretched one who loved hypocrisy.   But I’m so grateful to the Lord God of mercy He didn’t let me remain blind for long:  Now, I see.

FAITH

FAITH

Given some incontrovertible facts and antecedents presented by various news correspondents, I would say some intelligence fed to Duterte by drugs whisperers is not actually intelligent.  Proof of this would be some of the names minus their statuses written on the President’s list of the so-called shabu personalities.  If you are not accurate about the name and data of your ‘persons of interest,’ do what legitimate news people do, verify first please.

The notorious illegal drug issue/s today, as we know it as it is, deals with life and death, so let’s avoid to be victimized by mistaken identity as it’s only good for the movies.  But knowing Duterte, those who fed him with wrong feeds may have already been castigated as I now speak, if he did not dismiss them outright from the service.  For Duterte always have faith in his people.  Naturally, they should not put him in trouble.

Consider this, if your persons in charge of intelligence are not a stickler for accuracy in smaller things like ordinary names, definitely they would be more careless when they’re ordered to do bigger things like setting guilty-personalities-only into flames.  Before Duterte rose to power, to say that illegal drugs here in the city and province are rampant is an understatement.  Considering that yesterday we were all hesitant to report them knowing a police officer in charge might also be a drug element.

What’s ironic there is those who are supposed to be in the forefront of the list remain unnamed.  But those who for a long time now have since deceased are killed anew they being re-shamed.  Aside from personnel with impeccable intelligence, I suppose what the government truly lacks are those who really know basic math.  If my memory serves right, tax law says the burden of proof lies on a filthy rich brat to explain why he got those assets to escape jail’s wrath.

Jail ‘em first, Mr. Executioner.  And maybe they could explain later.  USA did it when they came up with the Al Capone Solution during the 1920’s.  We are America’s copycat, let’s do it, we have in President Duterte our own Elliot Ness. 

I could understand him, in view of his love of country and of his ardent desire to get rid of illegal drugs, he’s doing everything even if he’s scorned, even if he has to resort to short-cuts just to assure they fall and would no more return. 

Just like our God, because of His great love for us that we’d never resort to sacrificial offering anymore to please Him, He too made a short-cut by having His Only Son do it at once and for all:  And all He needs is our faith in return.

(“…Without faith, it is impossible to please Him…” [Hebrew 11:6])