Mary Shelley Might Had Vicki Belo in Mind When She Penned "Frankenstein"

I've been away from the blogging circulation lately because my computer at home crashed. Good thing my beloved IT guy (Dexter Q) fixed it! Anyway, during the days I was having my blogging rest, Boy Abunda (King of Philippine Talk Show) and Dra. Vicki Belo (known for her dermatological services on high-profile members of Philippine showbiz, politics, elite and high-society) had a face-off at the showbiz arena. Well, my story might be too old but for the benefit of my foreign readers (whoa!) I'll give a gist.



On nationwide TV, Vicki Belo glibly said in an interview, “If you want to look like Boy Abunda go to Calayan and if you want to look like Dingdong Dantes and Piolo Pascual go to Belo”. Boy Abunda, who endorses Calayan (Belo's rival surgery and dermatology center), was really offended (who wouldn't?!). To which, Boy's reaction was, "Vicki if you are watching, you know that I did not do anything bad to you to deserve this insult...alam mo na kahit kailan, kahit kailan, hindi ako namuhunan sa gandang panlabas. Alam mo, namumuhunan ako sa lakas ng loob, sipag, tiyaga at dasal. At Vicki, wala akong ilusyong maganda ako, wala akong ilusyon. Pero wala rin sinumang may karapatang manlait sa aking pagkatao" (READ: [...] you know that I never invested in outer beauty. You know, I invested in courage, diligence, perseverance and prayer. And Vicki, I never had an illusion that I'm handsome, never. But nobody has the right to mock me.)



Boy really made sense when he uttered those lines. I didn't make this blog to defend him in anyway (obviously, he's influential enough to gather public sympathy) and my slant may be super mean but I'd like to have a say on Vicki's inhumane statement. Scorn redounds upon the haughty.

Being the forefront in plastic surgery business, Vicki has underwent quite a number of surgeries herself (e.g. breast augmentation, face lift, nose lift, to name a few) and she blindly believes her self-made facade a BEAUTY! Having written the novel in 1818, Mary Shelley might had envisioned the future and had Vicki Belo in mind when she penned "Frankenstein!" And may I add, that the difference between Madame Auring and her is the absence of moola to pay good surgeons!



Just to sidetrack, while I was in the office this morning, Pao, Essiebot, and I were making a so-called comparative analysis of the different faces of Vicki Belo, of which she was high-and-mighty. We noticed her mirror-perfect, slightly open-mouthed pose in all her photos. Oddly though, her claim-to-fame advertisement copy that goes "Willie (Revillame) makes you laugh, Belo makes you happy" look askance at her own happiness. She doesn't have the mere appearance of merriment or a good hearty laugh lest she'll get smile lines and fine wrinkles! Good thing for Boy, he could laugh his head off at Vicki's unfortunate stance because although it took hard-learned science to have her face done that way, she still has to put on thick make-up and rely on the magic of Photoshop to look and feel beautiful! (See photo below to believe!)


Considering ethics, VIcki hit Boy below the belt by stating the obvious. But I like Boy's statement (I hope it strikes Belo like a dagger aimed at the very center of her soul! LOL), “At mga kaibigan, hindi po tayo kasi kailangang maging kasing [gwapo] ni Dingdong para maging masaya at para maging mabuting tao" (READ: And friends, we don't need to be as handsome as Dingdong to be happy and be a better person.)

At 53, Vicki (the way she presents herself in public) has a shallow perception of happiness--physical beauty and material things bring joy to humans. How does she define happiness now after her May-December love affair has ended because of her boyfriend's involvement with a sexy actress who was younger and evidently, more beautiful than her? She can console herself with her millions...a just deserts for having such arrogance!

Anyway, at the end of each day, Boy (and in this case, the underdog) can prove to himself that he's happy for what he is. On top of that, Boy has somebody to come home to while "poor" Vicki just lost hers! Tsk, tsk, tsk!


Thus, if you want to have a face like Vicki, go to Belo!

Parents, Wake Up! Your Kids Might be Watching Porn!

Anna, my 15-year old chat mate, spots me online while I’m in a nearby Internet café. She pops up on my IM (instant messenger) and confides that she has gained access to an adult-rated material over the Web by assuming she is over 18 years old.

“I often heard the boys at school talk about the “hilarious” sites they’ve been into. I became curious, that’s all,” she types back when asks why she enters the prohibited portal.

“So, what have you discovered?” I inquire glibly just to let the junior student think for herself. But frankly, I feel uneasy and concerned.

“Yucks! Are all sexual acts as sordid as those?” she floods the page with laughing emoticons before I can break in and type, “There’s nothing funny with sordid things, is there? Those images and streaming videos you’ve seen dehumanize women and children, like you and me!” Of course, at her age, I wouldn't expect her to understand what I am talking about.

Long before Anna types GTG (got to go), I notice a commotion about three terminals away from my unit. Several high school boys flock around the monitor as a man in his 60s scrolls down the page. Something on the Net causes their chuckle and it arouses the peeping Tom in me.

Curious now, I bid Anna GTG, signs out, and proceeds to the counter. I get a good lateral view of their monitor. To my dismay, the old man is showing his teenage exhibitionist chat mate stripping via web cam, and the kids keep on chuckling.

What I witness is thought provoking. An effortless click is all it takes to be exposed to an ocean of explicit materials that are to me, emotionally and mentally perplexing to the kids. Paradoxical as it seems, minors may be prohibited from viewing adult material on TV and theaters, but unsupervised minors in the privacy of their homes or Internet cafés may easily have access to pornographic materials in a click.

Many people are debating that cyber porn is an issue of parental guidance and corporate responsibility, but this is no longer new. In fact this is only one among the typical crimes proliferating over the Web today. Although pornography has long been one of society’s problems, it used to be only in the margins until the Internet brought it to the mainstream--and it will continue to stay because, admit it or not, sex sells.

Experts say parents need to understand the technology they are putting in the hands of their children. At first, kids browse materials with sexual contents out of sheer fun and curiosity, but little do parents know how these materials affect their children. Thus, I believe that parents should be responsible on watching their kids' online activities, as this is not only an issue of decency and morality but also a cycle of bad activities which children may suffer toward the period of their adolescence. At home, parents should start a culture that protects their kids' innocence and values human relationship and sexuality. Nobody knows how porn would morph into as tech wind shifts but then again at least parents have solidified their kids' moral ground.

Paolo Santos and I

I see Paolo Santos everyday on the boob tube. I hear his latest single being played over the radio. I read the latest updates about his life in the broadsheets. I see his face in large digital formats fit for billboards and banners along expressways. A multi-awarded artist, he has gained tremendous success on practically every front, from concerts to television to the live performance circuit. He is a big star, while I was just one of his devoted fans!

Watching him perform live on stage for the first time, my admiration dissolves into the noisy crowd. A mass hysteria of fans over some singing sensation from the local entertainment industry makes me realize how pathetically exhausting my life as a fan can be. I am there but he barely even know I exist. Fact of the matter is, because of avid supporters, his singles always make it to the top music charts—all that really matters.

Sigh, it is easy for humans to feel big and important. But that performer and I are of equal stature (see picture, can't you tell who's the star? LOL). I may not be a famous celebrity or a member of the society’s movers and shakers like him. Yet at the end of each day, he has his own human struggles to face like I do.

Appalling sight

I grabbed a bottle of cold coke at a nearby convenient store today and as I was waiting for my change, I tried browsing some magazine copies on the newsstand. And guess what, I have seen the most appalling cover magazine ever! The three original Viva Hot babes - Andrea Del Rosario, Katya Santos and Maui Taylor who had been literally out of the circulation lately, grace the cover of this month's FHM issue. Using woman's bodies and turning them into pieces of commodity (at 150 pesos per copy!) is nothing new to me. I have grown accustomed seeing scantily clad women posing for FHM but this one is really sticking out like a sore thumb.

I appreciate art when I see one. I appreciate women who have been blessed with voluptuous bodies (appreciating a woman's figure, doesn't make one a lesbian). I believe that a woman's body is one of the perfect examples of our Maker's artistry and creativity. But to use both to objectify women by equating them to healthy and delectable fruits we serve on the table, is no longer an art for me--it's exploitation!

I have to raise a debate between art and pornography. There's a thin line between art and pornography, so thin that most people can't decipher which is which. If art is subjective, then the artist is just using his art form to express himself. He has his own views on things when he started conceptualizing his art. But surely his art will have an impact on his audience. If he thinks it won't have any impact to viewers, then he is thinking that his viewers are idiots and he is actually undermining their intellectual capacity.

Let's exercise our freedom to think, as the creators of FHM exercise their freedom to create such degrading images of women. Subliminally, what messages can be derived out of the cover picture? Melon, watermelon, and papaya--fruits of these kinds have a hard rind and juicy flesh. Now, think why these fruits have to be slovenly splattered all over their bodies and of all spots, placed near their private parts! Your guess is as good as mine.

Monday Morning Madness

Krrrrinnng!

My alarm clock reminds me its just 6:20. Surely, I give myself enough snooze-time but maybe the toss and turn on bed during the night make me groggy. I repeatedly hit the snooze button for a few precious minutes in the land of nod.

As I lie dormant, I hear the clock alarms again. I stretch my arm and wink at it. No, it can be 7:00 am! Frantically, I go to the bathroom and do my morning rituals in a flash. In a nick of time, I hit the road like I own it.

Monday morning madness begins! There’s so much commotion all around. In one corner I see an irate vendor yells at one of her helper while the dog barks to sympathize. Several passengers queue for taxi. Taxi drivers honk their horn so loud to get rid of tricycles blocking the way. Earsplitting perk up music on a nearby eatery. And the fact that I’ll be late for work if I don’t hurry adds to the deafening hustle and bustle of this busy street. Gosh, this is the downside of living in Manila!

My long strides exhaust me. I get to the office as fast as I can only to find that I can’t keep my eyes open long enough to concentrate on the day ahead of me.

Admittedly, I run after wasted time. My mind is preoccupied in rushing through everything that needs to be done and getting out of the door as quickly as possible. Because I am deafened by the noisy confusion of life, I opt to make myself into a madman rather than to slow down for a minute and to recollect what God has done in my life.

If I am not in such a hurry today, I could have smiled at one of the taxi drivers who may have a bad start of the day as I am. Perhaps I could have kicked up a passengers’ day by a simple nod. Or maybe I could have offered a silent prayer for the vendor’s business dealings today.

Undoubtedly, God patiently gives me another chance tomorrow to “Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead” (Ephesians 5:14, NIV) so that Christ will shine in me. I thank God for making this imperfect day perfect for contemplation and refinement of my Christian character.

Thoughts on Getting Hitched

Is 2009 a year for weddings? It seems like it is. Most of my “single” friends are planning their big day this year. Now I’m wondering, is it because my contemporaries are already running after time and that marriage is the next big step they are obliged to take? I can picture out the entire neighborhood chasing my friends one by one and upon reaching a corner they jump over the fence. Yes, marriage is like jumping over the fence. Because status quo could be boring and dead-end, we have to leap from single to nuptial state. And the mass hysteria is after me too. I’m turning 28 this April so social norms say I’m mature enough to get married.
I remember one sensible joke on thirty-something-single-woman: If a woman’s still in her twenties she would ask, “Who’s the man?” But when she reached 35 and still single, she should say, “Where’s the man?”

Some people say women’s biological clock won’t start ticking until they’re 35. By the time I reach that age, my feeling would be similar to Captain Hook’s fear of the ticking clock inside the crocodile’s belly. Just imagining Hook’s bulging eyes, sweaty right hand, cold feet, and paranoia bordering to insanity, made me understand the urgency to run after the first man who would cross my path at age 35! Otherwise, the ticking clock would explode and I would have one hundred years of solitude.

If I would really consider that maxim as a philosophical truth, it would mean I still have 6 more years (before my uterus becomes rigid) to spend and enjoy my life being single. It would also mean that after 6 years, my chances of finding a suitable partner to tie the knot with would get slimmer and slimmer each passing year. And that “single blessedness” would turn to “single wretchedness.” The analysis is simple. By the time I would be 35, most of my male counterparts were either married with 2 children or unmarried yet fathered 2 children. Or worse, they might have been married twice and just skimming the market to snag the third hopeless romantic fool! So what choices do I have now? Marry somebody old enough to be my father or find myself the likes of Ashton Kutcher (the last option could work if I would be as voluptuous as Demi!)

As much as I am enjoying single life, I don't want to remain this way forever. Like my friends, I’m ready and willing to leap a fence this year too. Not because the society pressures me. Not because of the need to propagate my infallible genes (hahaha). But because I want to know what legacy will I bequeath my future generations. When I’m old and gray-haired, I want to look back and reflect on how full my life is.