An OpenLetter2.0 is a letter that you can copy, edit, and send to the prescribed recipients to add your voice to the content of the letter. By swarming the recipient with the same letter or sentiment, we can show that we are watching, thinking, and acting.
Carlos
=======letter begins==========
Please stop comparing Jojo Binay (or any aspirant-du-jour) to Barack Obama. Obama is an outsider who is promising change in business-as-usual Washington. Binay has used his wife and, sure enough, his son to get around term limits and perpetuate his hold on Makati. Makati, despite being the highest revenue earning city in the Philippines, is still Manila-as-usual with undisciplined policemen, traffic enforcers, and PUV drivers. If not for Ayala's high property values and the trickling down from Binay's "pro-poor" projects, he would have been voted out a long time ago.
send to: feedback@abs-cbnnews.com
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Abstinence As An Option
Prop 8, California's vote on whether 'marriage' can be applied to couples of the same sex, should never have been put on the ballot. Again: since when has life and love been something to debate? It is indeed a cruel world thrust upon our generation—and generations before—where we align ourselves on the death penalty, abortion, and now, same-sex marriage upon such a simplistic Either/Or tableau.What is on the ballot IS NOT, "Do mothers have the right to kill their unborn child?"
It IS NOT, "Is homosexuality deviant and therefore an affront to what 'marriage' or 'family' is?"
It IS NOT, "Does a heinous crime warrant the ultimate punishment?"
What IS on the ballot is fear, mistrust, intolerance, an insecurity that society will not support ME when my life is in others' hands.
If you voted, whether 'yea' or 'nay', the fact that our capacity as humans to show compassion and solidarity is defined by a show of hands is an indictment of us all. We will point fingers long after any decision is made, because a decision was foolishly required.
California should have abstained on this. Unfortunately, the excitement that "my vote" really mattered in a historic election bubbled over into a giddiness that overlooked voters' ability to—in case of defeat—accept the democratic outcome. After all, you could practically hear the marching band on Election Day playing "If God Be With Us, Who Can Be Against Us?"
This is one case where snubbing the ballot would have drummed just as loudly, if not louder.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Nervousness
I've been feeling
a nervousness
ka-thump ka-thump
accelerated heartbeat
signaling
flight
or is it fight?
Ever since Sunday
My last Fare-Thee-Well
A mix of Footie and Bbq
Old friends and new
and some I barely knew
Some I expected but never came
Some I hoped would
ka-thump
ka-thump
but wouldn't
That's when I felt
nervous
out of control
It is Wednesday today
And I have seen stars
A planetarium filled with gaping eyes and glinting eyeteeth
and stars
(It is Tuesday
And I saw the moon, waning above a silver beach
and mdma within reach
Mellow yellow I stared into the bonfire
relaxed
kaaaaaaathump—too relaxed)
And it's Wednesday
and I'm
ka-nervous-thumpthump
Is it a residual high
brought on by the sun disappearing into an artificial vanishing point on a domed ceiling?
Is it the sensation of standing and tilting into a digital sky?
(Oh Planet-are-you'm, ka-thump, ka-boom)
Tethered mind
tie gone slack
today you are taut
s t r e t c h e d
to reasonable limits
under navigable forces that command black holes
and the ambiguity of Me
My here and there though neither at once
In quadrophenic stasis
I feel as though I feel
everything
hence, I guess
the nervousness
Ka-thump
For nothing ka-thump
really changes ka-thump
Time doesn't travel ka-thump
Life follows no lines ka-thump
The miniverse ka-thump
Nor the universe ka-thump
neither expands ka-thump
nor collapses ka-thump
as it matters to us ka-thump
Even the oceans ka-thump
on a slow boil ka-thump
shall not affect ka-thump
the grand ka-thump
grand ka-thump
grand scheme of things
In here, in consciousness and knowledge, there is no light and dark. Only movement.
And there is no justice, no judgment.
Just
A Hearbeat.
a nervousness
ka-thump ka-thump
accelerated heartbeat
signaling
flight
or is it fight?
Ever since Sunday
My last Fare-Thee-Well
A mix of Footie and Bbq
Old friends and new
and some I barely knew
Some I expected but never came
Some I hoped would
ka-thump
ka-thump
but wouldn't
That's when I felt
nervous
out of control
It is Wednesday today
And I have seen stars
A planetarium filled with gaping eyes and glinting eyeteeth
and stars
(It is Tuesday
And I saw the moon, waning above a silver beach
and mdma within reach
Mellow yellow I stared into the bonfire
relaxed
kaaaaaaathump—too relaxed)
And it's Wednesday
and I'm
ka-nervous-thumpthump
Is it a residual high
brought on by the sun disappearing into an artificial vanishing point on a domed ceiling?
Is it the sensation of standing and tilting into a digital sky?
(Oh Planet-are-you'm, ka-thump, ka-boom)
Tethered mind
tie gone slack
today you are taut
s t r e t c h e d
to reasonable limits
under navigable forces that command black holes
and the ambiguity of Me
My here and there though neither at once
In quadrophenic stasis
I feel as though I feel
everything
hence, I guess
the nervousness
Ka-thump
For nothing ka-thump
really changes ka-thump
Time doesn't travel ka-thump
Life follows no lines ka-thump
The miniverse ka-thump
Nor the universe ka-thump
neither expands ka-thump
nor collapses ka-thump
as it matters to us ka-thump
Even the oceans ka-thump
on a slow boil ka-thump
shall not affect ka-thump
the grand ka-thump
grand ka-thump
grand scheme of things
In here, in consciousness and knowledge, there is no light and dark. Only movement.
And there is no justice, no judgment.
Just
A Hearbeat.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Implosions of Faith
Wall Street crashes to the lowest point since 9/11 as banks collapse from rotten housing loans as foreclosure claims 7,000 homes a day.
In other news, Al Qaeda is reported to be imploding from a lack of support from its key constituency, mostly intact Muslims, who are frustrated that the radical group victimizes its own people.
Coincidence? Parallel? Green and red wires to the same bomb? Was bin Laden heavily invested in Merrill Lynch?
Maybe this would be a good time for the Taliban to look to a new demographic that is frustrated with capitalist greed: Americans.
Recruiting wouldn't be a hard sell. There's a property boom in the mountains of Pakistan, Osama's HQ, but I doubt it's the place Uncle Freddie and Aunt Frannie would want to move.
You get a great retirement plan. And more or less, Americans that are getting screwed by the housing crisis already speak the language.
In other news, Al Qaeda is reported to be imploding from a lack of support from its key constituency, mostly intact Muslims, who are frustrated that the radical group victimizes its own people.
Coincidence? Parallel? Green and red wires to the same bomb? Was bin Laden heavily invested in Merrill Lynch?
Maybe this would be a good time for the Taliban to look to a new demographic that is frustrated with capitalist greed: Americans.
Recruiting wouldn't be a hard sell. There's a property boom in the mountains of Pakistan, Osama's HQ, but I doubt it's the place Uncle Freddie and Aunt Frannie would want to move.
You get a great retirement plan. And more or less, Americans that are getting screwed by the housing crisis already speak the language.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Dead Ahead
"Hulloa!" is what I call out to pedestrians and car drivers when I can see that they're not looking. This usually happens after they have looked down a street and see no glare of headlights or taillights and presume that the street is clear. Granted, that here in San Francisco, pedestrian is king, but this is a democracy, and therefore, common sense rules over assumed rights.
I've come down the hills of the Haight towards Van Ness at near-midnight in a cold wind and have had to almost come to a stop for a group of 15 crossing the road, if not for the pleasurable experience of having pedestrians stop for me, giving me right of way. "An optimist," Tim Coppola quips, "is a San Franciscan who looks only one way when crossing a one-way street."
A candidate for the Darwin Awards, my boss would probably say, is a person who crosses Market Street before the walk sign goes green, and still fails to look in the direction of traffic.
As you might have guessed, I did make unwanted contact recently with a pedestrian. It was on the east side of Market at New Montgomery. Here's what happened:
I had just crossed Third and was coasting towards New Montgomery; the light always turns red before I get to the intersection. By some chance, the light held at green for longer than usual, and the bike lane/right turn into NM was clear of cars.
I decide to gun it. I look up at the light and it was still green. My peripheral vision says there are no cars counter-flowing up NM and I make a last check that there moving obstructions coming down Montgomery or Post.
And that's when I saw him. He was on the far end of the North-South pedestrian lane, stepping onto the street before the No Walk had turned to Walk. He was looking straight ahead or at his PDA. Not at me. I'm the yellow cut-out below. He's the blue spot on the street.
I shout out He-llow! which maybe I should not have done and instead, should just have tried to avoid him, but instinct kicked in and told me I should give him a heads-up. Naturally he backed right into my path. It's like Neo visiting the Oracle in her apartment. Did I foresee the act of fate happen or did I cause it by foreseeing it and calling attention to it. Either way, it happened.
The green splash is where I hit him. How do I know this? Because I got knocked off my bike and stumbled into the dark green newspaper dispenser on the right, where I audibly whacked! my bike helmet. (If you don't wear a helmet, don't bike. Especially in traffic.)
I'm still on my feet and so is my khaki-garbed obstacle, probably still in a sugar and saturated fat from the McDonald's blueberry bacon muffin (store on the right). I steel myself and turn to him, "Watch where you're going, man!"
At this point there are 4 or 5 other pedestrians who are looking at the otherwise comedic aftermath. When I say what I said, they all say, "You ran a red light!"
No way, sirs, ma'ams. If I ran a red light—and red lights on this intersection are synchronized with the crossing green lights—then how come I ran into McFatty 20 feet away from the street corner and not into them???
This is approximately where I stood (albeit more to the left). The big circle is Sleepy the Street Crosser, and the small ones are the ones that I dodged by some miracle of translocation and invisibility. Look at how far this point is from the intersection. I clearly had at least a half second through the intersection before the light turned red.
Ah well, it is a moot point now. Everyone is safe and sound, and though I haven't inspected my bike for damage yet, it's run well to 25th in the Mission and back to the TL, where I live, so No Blood, No Foul.
The only point I want to make here is if you wish to live in a safe environment, it doesn't happen by doing less of something like paying attention; it happens with vigilance, awareness, and common sense.
I've come down the hills of the Haight towards Van Ness at near-midnight in a cold wind and have had to almost come to a stop for a group of 15 crossing the road, if not for the pleasurable experience of having pedestrians stop for me, giving me right of way. "An optimist," Tim Coppola quips, "is a San Franciscan who looks only one way when crossing a one-way street."
A candidate for the Darwin Awards, my boss would probably say, is a person who crosses Market Street before the walk sign goes green, and still fails to look in the direction of traffic.
As you might have guessed, I did make unwanted contact recently with a pedestrian. It was on the east side of Market at New Montgomery. Here's what happened:
I had just crossed Third and was coasting towards New Montgomery; the light always turns red before I get to the intersection. By some chance, the light held at green for longer than usual, and the bike lane/right turn into NM was clear of cars.
I decide to gun it. I look up at the light and it was still green. My peripheral vision says there are no cars counter-flowing up NM and I make a last check that there moving obstructions coming down Montgomery or Post.
And that's when I saw him. He was on the far end of the North-South pedestrian lane, stepping onto the street before the No Walk had turned to Walk. He was looking straight ahead or at his PDA. Not at me. I'm the yellow cut-out below. He's the blue spot on the street.
I shout out He-llow! which maybe I should not have done and instead, should just have tried to avoid him, but instinct kicked in and told me I should give him a heads-up. Naturally he backed right into my path. It's like Neo visiting the Oracle in her apartment. Did I foresee the act of fate happen or did I cause it by foreseeing it and calling attention to it. Either way, it happened.
The green splash is where I hit him. How do I know this? Because I got knocked off my bike and stumbled into the dark green newspaper dispenser on the right, where I audibly whacked! my bike helmet. (If you don't wear a helmet, don't bike. Especially in traffic.)
I'm still on my feet and so is my khaki-garbed obstacle, probably still in a sugar and saturated fat from the McDonald's blueberry bacon muffin (store on the right). I steel myself and turn to him, "Watch where you're going, man!"
At this point there are 4 or 5 other pedestrians who are looking at the otherwise comedic aftermath. When I say what I said, they all say, "You ran a red light!"
No way, sirs, ma'ams. If I ran a red light—and red lights on this intersection are synchronized with the crossing green lights—then how come I ran into McFatty 20 feet away from the street corner and not into them???
This is approximately where I stood (albeit more to the left). The big circle is Sleepy the Street Crosser, and the small ones are the ones that I dodged by some miracle of translocation and invisibility. Look at how far this point is from the intersection. I clearly had at least a half second through the intersection before the light turned red.Ah well, it is a moot point now. Everyone is safe and sound, and though I haven't inspected my bike for damage yet, it's run well to 25th in the Mission and back to the TL, where I live, so No Blood, No Foul.
The only point I want to make here is if you wish to live in a safe environment, it doesn't happen by doing less of something like paying attention; it happens with vigilance, awareness, and common sense.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
The Light at the End of the Metaphor
Just when I had bought CFL light bulbs, I got hit with the news. In a switch, The INS has turned that 'Give me your tired, your poor and huddled masses' into 'Give me your lucky, your 1 of 3.'
You know that flame that rides atop Her Ladyship Liberty's cone? I wanted to replace that flame with a compact florescent. I wanted something long-lasting. It would save money and it was the right thing to do. Mother would approve of the low wattage, and I had found that IKEA ones have a mild glow that almost incandesce.
So there I was, looking to the future; five, maybe ten years that we could watch that baby burn and see whether the music, when it's over, herald the light's adieu.
Instead it was the "I" in the INS's invisible I N K , that would make my legal goodbye legible, and would make the inevitable flip of the script.
Five dollars for each bulb. A social experiment meant to accrue the due, passing the savings on to—me, true. But now what am I to do? Post a personal on craigslist? "Expedited expatriate needs to pass the torch; they passed on me so I'm passing the savings on to you; fully paid; some installment necessary; ask not which Watt! what you can do is ask rather what your country has done for you."
"Give me your tired, your poor and huddled masses." With luck, they won't pass the dim bulbs onto you. Just the ones that last and pay you back.
You know that flame that rides atop Her Ladyship Liberty's cone? I wanted to replace that flame with a compact florescent. I wanted something long-lasting. It would save money and it was the right thing to do. Mother would approve of the low wattage, and I had found that IKEA ones have a mild glow that almost incandesce.
So there I was, looking to the future; five, maybe ten years that we could watch that baby burn and see whether the music, when it's over, herald the light's adieu.
Instead it was the "I" in the INS's invisible I N K , that would make my legal goodbye legible, and would make the inevitable flip of the script.
Five dollars for each bulb. A social experiment meant to accrue the due, passing the savings on to—me, true. But now what am I to do? Post a personal on craigslist? "Expedited expatriate needs to pass the torch; they passed on me so I'm passing the savings on to you; fully paid; some installment necessary; ask not which Watt! what you can do is ask rather what your country has done for you."
"Give me your tired, your poor and huddled masses." With luck, they won't pass the dim bulbs onto you. Just the ones that last and pay you back.
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