After a week of hard training I have overslept again today and missed my chance to meet up with World Boxing Council Minimumweight world champion Denver Cuello in his visit here in Iloilo. I could only blame myself so much while checking on the missed calls and text messages on my phone from my coach asking where the hell I was, that they have been waiting for me the whole time. I have been sleeping like a dead man that I would not have heard a thing even if the landlord had banged on my door for hours. To say that I was exhausted would be an understatement. All the roadwork, gym workouts, sparring sessions, all that really drains you that I dropped to 147 pounds again after a two week vacation in Cebu. But there's nothing I can do about that now, and there's no point in crying over spilled milk. Instead I look at the bright side of things- I got to interview Donnie Nietes where he shared a short history of his career from being a nobody to working part time as a janitor and boxer for ALA stable in Cebu to being the current WBO minimumweight world champion. He also talked a bit about his work ethics, training regimen, and the discipline that comes with it. He's a really humble, soft spoken guy and it was a pleasure to meet him in Bacolod City. Boxing is a really, really tough sport and it's an honor to shake the hand of a world champion. Nietes would not comment about how much he stands to earn in his title defense this coming January, but our guess is it's close to a million pesos.

I still have so much to look forward to, but with the Mayweather fight penned on March 13 next year I doubt if my plans to meet Manny Pacquiao in person at his mansion in General Santos early next year will push through, thanks to a friend of a friend in that province who's trying hard to make it happen for me. If I have to meet him by then I'd have to travel all the way to Baguio where they'll be holding camp for a month, as reports say, but even then there would be no assurance on being able to get through security.

Some of the local boxers I hope to meet someday are A.J. Banal, Boom Boom Bautista, Rodel Mayol, Bernabe Concepcion, Gerry Penalosa, Denver Cuello and one of my favorite Filipino boxers Z Gorres, originally from Nasipit, Agusan Del Norte, who's still recovering from a brain surgery at the moment.

Do I look drained or what?!!

I've been relaxing the whole day but only in preparation for another round of Technical Sparring with Team Iloilo tomorrow. 2 more weeks and training is through for the year. But what a year it has been for me! Yesterday I run at least 8 kilometers from Villa to the new road across the bridge and back thinking, hey, I can double that range and still manage to get a full workout later in the day. I do not feel like I'm 35 (whatever they say 35 feels like) and the more I think of it the more I realize that age has never been much of a factor at all in training. I've been sparring with kids right out of  high school at 16 to fighters in the early and mid 20s and it's been great, I can't believe it.  Right now I'm just counting the days before I take a long vacation throughout the holidays. I'm really glad to be fulfilling my dreams, chasing my passion, and living life. Whatever it is you are into, I say, go for it! Have fun while you can!

Ambassador Gusi's Outburst

Check out this ambassador's tirade against Manny Pacquiao during a Peace Prize ceremony for the latter's failure to attend the event. What's with the attitude, dude?

This is the Molo Plaza where I often make solitary runs to in the morning. The famous Pancit Molo is named after this district.

This bridge connects to a newly constructed diversion road where health buffs flock in the morning for a regular exercise. This shot, compliments of my old but trusty Nokia 6630, was taken at 5am today

This female boxer is preparing for the upcoming Integrated Meet in Bacolod City next week. This is our team's final push in training before the holidays where we hold special sessions on the diversion road, just along the river, for an advanced workout with coach Johnny. Here, the punch mitts usually catches the attention of passers by when it produces rhythmic explosions bam! bam! bam! and they would whisper among themselves "Pacquiao, Pacquiao." I guess everywhere you go it has become evident that Manny is now the face of Boxing.

Pancit Molo

Team Iloilo's Pro/Amateur Boxing Gym Where I Train

While our government never runs out of excuses for being out of budget on backing up various programs like sports, our makeshift gym at the Villa district does not make any excuse for not pursuing its dream. When its old, overused gloves and bags became brittle and started to wither, the local team took the initiative of covering its layers with scotch tapes or masking tapes, cocooning it, making the bags look like huge beehives, instead of blubbering complaints at the mayor’s office for years of lack of support, as if to tell you the show must go on. Some of the gloves they use have been re-taped a couple of times they become deformed and look funny in their hands when they use it, but we never laugh about these things. At the end of the day the fighters who use them are honorable men who put so much dignity in their craft, and who are many, many times worth admiring than some rich kid, mama’s boy with a posh sports car who has all the girls on his side and parties hard all night and depend solely on mommy and daddy’s stipends for a living. Even the coaches in this gym do not receive a single cent from the government for their efforts and live off meager donations from sports followers and minor sponsorships from small time businessmen to survive. Without these contributions they would not be able to put food on the table, as Mang Pidong would say, but they continue day in and day out anyway. Some fighters here train famished and go home with practically nothing and even more hungry, except for that lingering hope that they soon would earn the right to fight in the ring and make some money for themselves and their families. Some here train for scholarships and once they get their education they stop as prizefighters and apply for regular day jobs, which is a smart thing to do. Nothing stops fighters and fighters at heart from coming almost every single day to learn. If that is not hope and faith in them that I see, I do not know what is anymore.  At one point this establishment may seem pathetic, clearly out of budget, and neglected or uncool, as a dude would say. But if you stay longer, understand its history and those who run it you learn about how much pride there is inside it. Nothing stands in its dream to produce national champions, or even future world champions.

I feel really blessed to be a part of this team where I look forward to train ‘til maybe the third quarter of next year. I’ve not only learned boxing skills along the way, but priceless values in life as well.  It has taught me a whole lot about standing up on my own and becoming my own man and not to rely on others more than we’re supposed to, or putting that to the minimum. I’ve learned that being poor is only a state of mind. It’s not something we should be sorry of, but an opportunity to display one’s skill just as one would in the ring. In boxing, you learn not just to identify your opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. More importantly, you learn about yourself even more.

Thanks to my coach, mang Pidong, and co-captain, coach John, who are without question self-made men who keep telling us that even the less fortunate has more than a fighter’s chance in life and that the journey of our success starts and ends with ourselves.

In closing, I would like to say that I have never expected to gain so much clarity and wisdom from a dimly lit place like this.

Coach Alfredo Amistoso Sr. still jogs every four in the morning at the age of 70 and ends his daily regimen with weight training. He is a former National Golden Gloves champion and a former national Flyweight Contender.

Fritz (Far right), coach John's son, is a gold medalist of last year's Palarong Pambansa. He was also featured once on national television via GMA for his brilliant performances in the competition. But to us he's just this humble kid who helps each and every one of us in between rounds during technical sparring sessions (Tuesdays and Thursdays). He's very respectful and obedient like his father wants him to be, which makes him quite a likable kid.

Junior Amateur fighters

Our worn out Double-End balls lined up at the side of our boxing ring like beehives. One of my favorite moments is when coach Alfredo would ask us repeatedly during every session "Marunong ka magsayaw? Kung marunong ka, sige pasok sa ring at magsayaw ka, galaw ka ng galaw sa loob. okay, time!" that means it's time for us to practice our footwork where we have to maneuver gracefully and move around the ring lightly just like in dancing. Footwork session is our Sayaw session. It's quite fun!

Nothing feels better than starting my day with a nice short run to the Molo district Plaza early in the morning. I like watching people there, especially the elders, who are very cautious with their health and make make it a habit to exercise. That gives me no reason at my age not to challenge myself each day to wake up and jog. Once I arrive at the plaza I just pick a corner where I could jump rope or do a bit of shadowboxing and before leaving I walk to the church right across the street and thank God for all I have and thank him for the great time I'm spending in Iloilo. Then I go for another run on the way home and stop by my favorite bakery just along the road and buy what I like. I often have my brunch here with Pancit Molo and Pan de Sal. It's a real nice place with very hospitable staffs. People just come by to buy bread and leave. It makes me want to hang out a little longer sometimes and read in this quiet place. Aside from my room, this is the best place for me to write or read a novel. No, never in those fancy cafes; I like this nice and homely shop in Molo County.

Picture taken at the Breakthrough Resort in Villa Beach

At the end of a Villa jeepney route is the Villa beach where I live less than ten minutes away. People usually flock the resorts here during weekends for seafood or just to spend time with families and I would like to go there any day except on those days to avoid that influx. On the way to the resort from the city you’ll pass along the district of Molo where the famous Pancit Molo was first introduced to the country. And then farther on along the highway, during Sundays, a number of stalls are set up to sell Lechon which gives the place of Villa the nickname of Lechon Country in Iloilo City.

I do not even remember having to adjust to living in this city. I just blended in quite nicely with the people and the environment. And just ahead of my pad is the Villa gym where I currently train along with the city’s amateur boxing team, so it’s like everything falls right into place. Almost everything I need is right here. Iloilo is like a gift to me and certainly is to anyone who loves to travel, good food, and living in a slow-paced life. The best benefits i get out of this, however, remains to be the opportunity to travel write and get involved rather fully in boxing.  

But clearly, with my wife back home in Manila, my life here is far from being complete. All the luxuries I’m enjoying right now are mere consolation for an absence that outweighs all these things. 

At the Daily Buns where I usually take the time to update this website with their Wi-Fi connection

Pinay Prizefighter

Popular Filipino-American boxer Ana "The Hurricane" Julaton is currently the IBA junior featherweight champion. This pretty fighter became a world champion in just five professional fights and like the Pacman she also trains at the Wildcard gym under the tutelage of master Freddie Roach 

  

500 Days Of Summer

“Bugger!” I said to myself realizing I missed out the screening of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, which I had been looking forward to watch the whole week. But since I was at the mall anyway and left with nothing much to do for the rest of the evening I started checking out the list of movies on the white billboard at the Shoe Mart theater hall and for a moment was stuck with seriously pondering on whether to buy a ticket for New Moon. It’s not like I got much of a choice. And, after all, it was the only movie in the list that I could readily identify. Alright, alright, so be it!

 I have prepared myself for a cheesy evening lining up the ticket booth but somehow ended up buying a ticket for 500 Days Of Summer, a movie I had not an inkling of, nor heard about from friends or the television (I ain’t got one) or, say, never even browsed about in the internet. I guess it turned out to be more difficult to buy a New Moon ticket than I thought. I was about to end up puking when the ticketera asked “Uno na cine, sir?” I just could not gather myself to say the words “New Moon, Miss.”

“What the hell is 500 days of summer? This is a big mistake. Maybe I should’ve bought that bloody, exceedingly melodramatic New Moon instead. Oh! What the hell, Mark, you indecisive, irresolute, dithering fella! You just burned a hundred bucks for nothing once again. Keep it up, you shmuck.” I muttered, after handed the ticket. I proceeded to buy a large box of overpriced popcorn and a soft drink with a come-what-may disposition and conditioned myself that this was all just to preoccupy myself for the evening and I can come back tomorrow for Dickens. You cannot go wrong with Dickens. It will be worth twice my money or more, so in a way it’s like I’ll be making up for the cash I’m burning today with this Summer thing. That Dickens writer was a genius. The classics are the way to go. I should buy a Dickens novel some time, but I got a whole lot of unread classics back home, but still, I should buy a Dickens one of these days.

I have to admit that it was the best mistake I have made this week. It was a romantic-comedy, yeah, yeah, I know, but it’s different from the typical genre that comes to mind. It’s not something made up by some stereotypical melodramatic fool, thank God. I thought right from the start that the non-linear approach would make it different if not entirely unique. It gave the movie a strong sense of style, built up its own personality, you might say, and you sensed a strong intention of it moving away from that beat up path of emo, romantic comedy stories. It was an original in its own right. I mean, sure it’s a boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl thing, I’m quite aware of that, but it struck me. It’s as if, one way or the other, with all that boxed up prejudice, air-tight defensive stance, still an uppercut finds its way to hit you from out of nowhere.  I have to admit this was the first romantic-comedy that I have liked in a long time. I can only imagine how difficult it is to make a romantic-comedy that should stand out with all the movies of its kind out there, but allow me to say that this tale of elusive love got through with flying colors. It's quite clever. It got my attention and I’m pretty impressed. I tip my hat to 500 Days Of Summer.

(I’m not gonna tell you the story, you have to pay for it! Go watch a movie and keep the economy rolling.)

The Sweet Science

Even in the past there have been many references to the sport of boxing in relation to literature that many sees even to be interwoven with the bigger picture of life itself. From literary heavyweights such as Vladimir Nabokov to Hemingway and Jack London, it is apparent how the sport would play a role in their lives, if not with their work. Boxing is all about character, strategy, dedication, hard work, discipline, a complicated art that’s also fun yet deadly where even lady luck may play a role when each fighter heads to the ring, among many other things- things which are undeniably all too familiar in another game we all participate in- The game of life.


We can only have so many people rally for us yet in the end it’s all about facing life on our own. And so it goes with every pugilist who walks toward sacred battleground. In the end it’s all about you; you rely on yourself to survive where no one else can go with you. It boils down heavily to the core values that define us- faith, determination, patience and the unwavering belief that we can do it, that success will eventually come and each round is easily likened with a new day added to our lives where we get another chance, another shot, and the hope that it's not too late to begin anew.


Perhaps it’s the depth of the sport that has captivated so many of us, interconnects us, including even the greatest of men across generations. They say boxing is a sport like no other, but not to me. It has long ceased to be a mere sport and has transcended to become a passion. It is in this state that I have found myself living. For all we know, triumph may be just around the corner.

Must Love Dogs (repost)

We go to the park early in the morning for as often as we can to walk our dogs and right away you can tell it makes them very happy. We have a whole bunch of them back home so we take them alternately, except for the Shih Tzu, who's gray as piled dust and had lost lots of hair on account of strong shampooing, without our knowledge, that had caused her hair to fall out unevenly; leaving the rest of her body in coarse patches- you could swear she was a member some gang if you saw her out in the streets like the ones in a high school near us, The Bloods and the Creeps. If she went out some place along with them she would fit in just right- all them bloody creeps. She sticks to us like a pesky leech the whole time, you see. She has the tendency to become very nosy and everything, but I don't take it that she really means it that way, outside of her very nature, of course- I mean to be intentionally pesky. She's without a doubt the most unattractive of the pack that's why we attend to her more. We call her Magic 'cause we just cant believe we love her.

I miss going to the park whenever I'm unable to as when comes the wet season when it'd rain for days, and in any day when it didn't pour out, but you actually couldn't tell if the rain was just taunting you, creeping behind those gray clouds while keeping the sun hostage. If it really rained hard or showered for a long time into the season, I would lock myself up inside my room for hours in my desk writing about the colors of summer that I'd missed. But I would not suggest writing during unholy hours through the night, though, especially with the moon and all being so darn tricky; it makes you write things you would regret during daytime.

Going out to places without the pressure of time or any kind of pressure- like your mother yelling right at your face, a brother who's like our government: too old to not know the simple value of honesty and too old not to have worked at all, or, having people around you who make it their business to check out on you- caters the opportunity to see things beautifully, all very ordinary things, seeing these out there in a different level. When I sit in the shade whilst my wife walks our German Shepherd 'round the curb, the bougainvilleas in the park seem to bloom grandly in the morning, and I fancy it looking like large pink balloons hovering above the green well-trimmed grass. There'd be balloons everywhere if you took a look at the whole of it at that level so it'd make you want to bring back your 7th birthday party one more time and celebrate with your dad and the rest of your childhood friends; some of whom you may have not seen in such a long time; celebrate the day with cake and spaghetti with lots of sauce and quick-melt cheese on top and some cheap street ice cream handed out by clowns. Real clowns- not those ones up in legislature chamber arguing for a living they end up doing practically nothing, or those who blow up malls and everything else that works and breathes and thinks; believing such an act skyrockets them to heaven. But I guess that's just the kid in me playing with my thoughts. My wife and I will always be kids in some way; perhaps, even, I think we have mischievous imps inside of us that had fallen for each other first way before our adult selves ever found out.

When I'm at it, drafting things down, our loony wolf-dog, Sergeant, a Siberian Husky, would hop his way around the park like a bunny rabbit and sneak behind my back looking very silly with those over-sized ears and a bulging nose. I also have a real monster of a Doberman that I swear would guard me with his life. None of my relatives, I'm quite sure of it, could even top that. He'd walk around me, by and by, when I take him out loafing on a lazy day, always ready to take a bullet if somebody actually sniped at me from one of those ancient Spanish houses that surround the neighborhood. He's suspicious as a detective, really, silly dog tripping me all the time while we're walking. But our pets have no way of treating you badly even if all you have is a shanty for a home. They treat you like a man even if you treat them like dogs; even if your that kind of man who treats other men like dogs just 'cause you got plenty of dough and owe people money. They never get sick of human behavior like I do at times, if not most of the time. They also make me less difficult and as open as I will never be with other beings.

Two blocks behind our cafe is a river that runs miles inland on to the tip of the foothills where it further forks into creeks. A hanging bridge leaps right across that river and lands at a line of coconut trees. Its water isn't deep and along the banks it runs over white boulders so the sound it makes rushing against it makes me feel cool all over whenever I go by; making me walk farther up ahead straight to the tip of the pavement where sand meets the concrete and catch the breeze from the sea from whence all that current flowing down the river comes from. If you walked the whole stretch on a Sunday when the town's sole radio station broadcasts only the classics, only that endless gamut of pretty old songs, you'd hear it being played out loud from the old, turn-of-the-century houses you passed along, walking, so it gave you gay spirits and raised hopes just like how it must have felt way back when World War II had just been over.

You think of the various political dynasties ruling over different regions of the country and wonder whatever happened with a public office being a public trust. The irony of it all is that I don’t even know if there’s anyone still worth trusting in the government. God knows I don’t trust the president or the president’s men.  And you know what? I don’t think we can still trust the church either. I read the news this morning about this Irish Catholic Church apologizing to the public for covering up for child abuse that was said to have run for more than three decades. For three effing decades for Christ’s sake! That’s like turning the whole thing into a church-run sex den, if you look at it.  Talk about hypocrisy. Talk about trust. Talk about honesty. Talk some more and I’ll shut your mouth with a whizzing haymaker.


click here for the Irish Catholic Church news
http://ph.news.yahoo.com/afp/20091127/twl-ireland-politics-catholic-children-a-4bdc673.html

If Sugar Ray Robinson, who’s widely known to be the greatest of all time, fought Manny Pacquiao at lightweight or welterweight right now, assuming both of them were at their best condition, how would he have handled this whirlwind of a boxer, Pacman? We know he got knocked down and eventually defeated by Jake LaMotta who was never known for his speed and defense.  He was a swarmer, an infighter- an opponent who stalks you all the time and always kept within fighting distance to keep up the pressure.  What if Sugar was cornered and consistently stalked by a fighter with impeccable footwork and blinding hand speed like Manny’s that harassed him with the same intensity all throughout twelve rounds?  I’m intrigued of how he’d contain tropical storm Pacquiao who’s not only known for both speed and power in his hands, but as a fighter with an iron clad chin just as LaMotta, as we’ve witnessed in his bout against Cotto. No one in this supposedly advanced age has ever come close to containing Manny Pacquiao in his recent fights, so we can only guess if Sugar would have handled him better. Of course Robinson’s record of 128-1-2 with 84 knockouts would tell he was a much better fighter, but that is only on paper. Say, if you were to complete a basketball rooster today and had the liberty to choose between two legends in their prime, would you rather pick Wilt Chamberlain over Hakeem “The Dream” Olajuwon? Exactly my point.

I don’t think it’s possible to truly compare fighters across eras unless we can find a way to get them to rumble, which is of course impossible. I mean, sure, we can compare statistics but that only leaves us with more questions than answers. I have never seen Robinson fight nor lived in his time. And to say that Manny Pacquiao is a better fighter than he was, is utterly unfair. But honestly, and this is just my humble opinion, to say outright that he was better than Manny now would probably be unfair too. 

For Whom The Bell Tolls

I can’t say that life has been easy on me, especially over the past few months. It’s been more of a rollercoaster ride lately with unexpected work-related changes wherein I expect even more of it to come before the year ends, there were some family issues to focus on, and, you know, there were tough decisions along the way. That’s what life is all about and without these barriers blocking your way you wouldn’t really learn to be an effective captain of your ship. But, overall, I think life is good. Life is beautiful. In spite of all the hurdles I’ve been through I feel like know I myself better, and right now, I tell ‘ya, I’m on a roll, man. And I know I’m on a roll when I wake up in the morning and I’m all excited to be myself.  Just to be myself.

That’s why I don’t get it. Whatever it is that’s going on down there in Maguindanao killing people, I don’t get it. Nothing is worth killing a person, but these people, whoever the culprits are they ain’t through with plain killing. They massacre. They rape and massacre women, line them up men and women, helpless and all, and shoot them like target practice, except that these are somebody’s fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters. Nothing is worth that much. Not money or politics or religion or whatever, so please don’t give me that horseshit for an excuse. It’s scary down there in Maguindanao right now, but we are not the cowards. They are. Those goddamn culprits are because they can’t fight a man’s fight killing people with their hands tied to their backs. They won’t fight fair ‘cause they know they’d probably lose anyway. But it’s okay to lose, you know? It’s okay to lose as long as you fight fairly and give it your best shot, but them perpetrators want nothin’ of fair play ‘cause they have no principles to uphold in the first place.  This government has got to do something about this if they’re up to doing something right for a change. Something has got to get going to right the wrong and that justice shall prevail. Life is beautiful. But we’ll never know if this shall still be with those left behind by all these dead people.

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"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee." John Donne "

My Greatest Fighter Of All Time

The first athlete I would ever identify in this world before all the Abdul Jabbars, Magic Johnsons and Michael Jordans while growing up in the infamous Gomez neighborhood in Butuan City- is the great, if not the greatest, Muhammad Ali, who up to this day is still my favorite boxer of all time. My daddy was a solid fan of his and he told me the very first things I would learn about the sport of Boxing when I was five years old like the Rope-a-dope, and basic techniques such as a jab and an uppercut. We would watch Ali fight from our black and white television back home in our living room and dad, you know, he was Boxing’s most fervid fan. I know of no one personally up ‘til this day who loved the game more than he did. And he was just about as enthusiastic with boxing as he was with life. Unfortunately, my father would not go the distance with the latter and died with Cancer in ’83. I was only nine years old. 


In a way, I guess I can say that my love for the sport of Boxing is one of my dad’s legacies to me. My love for him has pushed me to follow the sport later on in life as i grew older, in pursuit of understanding the level of passion he once had for it so whenever I watch a fight these days I feel like we’re watching side by side with that same intensity. All these years it's like I've been catching up with him, except that now I don't have him to share back my thoughts. It's like a medium to me, like I'm reaching back to him back in the days that we used to share together. I honestly think we would have had so much in common with our personalities as men but I guess we'll never know. We never had much time together. I think that whenever I train in the gym and feel like quitting I know I just couldn’t 'cause he was always right there leading the way. I would have loved to strike an argument with him now that by the looks of it, Pacman, the greatest fighter of our generation, is in a very good position to soon eclipse all the success of the great Ali, and that he’s the most exciting fighter to ever grace the sport. But to do that now would be blasphemy. Ali is now an icon that reminds me of my father whose death seals it way up there forever above all other fighters. My dad was such a fan of him that in my own world they have become synonymous with each other.


In summation, these facts would explain details of my website. From tagging a line of “Life and Boxing” (for my dad's passion for both), and Ali’s fixed photographs on the right side of the main page. Mark’s Corner is mostly in tribute to THE MAN- My Dad. The only person who has really fought for me 'til he got nothin' left lying there in his deathbed. Dad, you're my greatest fighter of all time.

Movies

  Looky here now, I know I may have hurt your feelings about all that I’ve said about New Moon’s Eddie being a cradle snatcher and all with some of my friends actually feeling kinda low about it, and I wish I could take it all back to make everyone happy, but guess what? I won’t. One can’t be loyal to a friend if one is dishonest. And the truth of the matter is that New Moon sucks big time. Oh! Come on, admit it. Wake up. It’s the biggest selling nonsense movie I know of. But hey, speaking of nonsense, the good news is not all movies of this kind are crap. In fact, I would highly recommend you guys watch one of my favorite comedy movies of, well, not of all time, but surely one for a long time. If you like movies where you wouldn’t have to think much to enjoy the show and just have a good old fashioned fun at home, my, my, Zombieland is definitely for you. This is nonsense in the highest order, my friend, and I guarantee you, you listenin? I guarantee you’re gonna love this. I guffawed watching this alone, mind you, so if you got a brigade at home watching this it’s going to be just awesome. The difference between New Moon nonsense and this, primarily, is that this movie does not pretend to make sense. Make any sense to you?

     The story is so simple that if you came up in the middle of the show you’d understand the flow quite perfectly. No pressure. And there are no vampires trying to be cool.  No Zombie flirting with humans or other Zombies. They’re all just bloody and messed up just like how Zombies are supposed to be. It all starts with a virus that permeates all over America that turns humans into, guess what? Yeah, you got it, Zombies. Somehow a virus that starts from Mad Cow disease evolves to a Mad Human to Mad Zombie disease and then baam! You got Zombieland. A work of genius.  And my personal favorite quote of the show is from Woody Harrelson when he said “My mama always told me someday I’d be good at somethin’… Well I guess that’s somethin’ is Zombie-killin’.” Now, ain’t that cool? And then there’s a special participation here by Bill Murray (Ghostbusters) and that part is really funny. Have a good one!

     Oh, by the way, Emma Stone is a fox!

I can't seem to get enough of her. Here's one more picture for our viewing pleasure

Money Ponders

Mayweather would eventually have to fight the Pacman whether he likes it or not, or, allow himself to be branded as a coward forever. I think 2010 is the defining moment for these two fighters with Money turning 33 and Manny publicly expressing his desire to move on to a new career in Philippine politics. There's not much time, so it's a make or break, especially for Mayweather who has been accused of ducking legitimate opponents in the past. It's his time to prove his critics wrong and establish himself as the best out there and a true legend. On the other hand, Pacman has fought the toughest the competition has to offer, breaking borders across divisions like a juggernaut, and no one dares to question his iron will as a fighter, so the decision now rests more heavily on the greatly talented, best pure boxer Floyd Mayweather Jr. Is he man enough to risk his zero-loss record by standing up against the tropical storm Pacquiao? We'll see in the days ahead. All of us shall have our own defining moments. It's either you embrace it and fight the fight, or simply run around like a coward (no pun intended).


What's it gonna be?

New Moon... Bite Meh!

What, with all the accumulated knowledge and wisdom from the experience of living in a span of a hundred plus years, would make someone with supernatural powers fall in love for some seventeen year old girl, and prefer to be stuck in some high school out of all the countless options out there? Is this Edward character a pedophile or something? I mean, how could there be meeting of the minds with the supposed empirical depth of a hundred eight year old, on one hand, and a teenager on the other. It just doesn’t fit. People who fall in love with each other meet at a certain wavelength, so to speak, and I wonder at what point does these two characters meet.  “Apo sa tiil ma in love sa pinakataas na nga ka-lolohan.”  What would a teenager have to share in common with a 108 year old that would not bore him to eternity and wish he was dead?  I imagine conversations with a teenager going like “Which suits me better, pink or red?”  Oh! Kill me.  Joe and I talked about this at the backroom of the office and he’s right, I do not get it, too.  And I read one critic say the melodrama of this movie is enough to induce diabetes, which is funny, but very likely considering the story lines I've read so far, although I have not watched this and I really don't need to under the circumstances.  Even if I was so bored and there were no other options left in theaters I’d seriously have to think twice before watching this movie.  I just cannot believe a story that revolves with a century old vampire and a teenager from a so-so high school, who somewhat leaves abruptly in her defense against other vampire clans as if they have all become shallow-minded nocturnal creatures, and that all of a sudden this captivating mystery behind vampires all becomes overshadowed by some teenage love triangle crap- It just does not cut it for me. And then there’s the coming of werewolves and all… It doesn't make sense, forgive me. All I see are loopholes all over the story. I simply cannot believe this movie New Moon set worldwide records as the biggest midnight opening in history, grossing an estimated $26.3 million in 3,514 theatres. Something's not right.  Joe says New Moon is like a Titanic movie with fangs, and I can't say I disagree. Oh, I have a better description for this Edward fella. A seasoned cradle snatcher!

Krista

I understand where the media is coming from and Manny, now a public figure who also has expressed his desire to run for public service in the near future, should be open to public scrutiny and all, yada, yada, yada, etcetera, etcetera. I’m not the one to argue with that. Fine. But truly, hypocrisy aside, just plain man to man talk, I can only imagine how awfully difficult it is to deflect temptation if it arises in the form of a hot Krista Ranillo. I mean, really, go on and check out her picture above and imagine someone like her making you feel special. Be honest and tell me that wouldn’t spell catastrophe to your marriage. Like a friend used to say “Tukso layo-an mo ako pero wag lang masyadong malayo.” Dismantling Miguel Cotto is an enormous task, but resisting a sizzling Krista Ranillo is another, if not a tougher challenge, assuming all the rumors that are now blown out of proportions in the internet are justified. After all, the best pound for pound boxer in the world is all human like you and me. So I say let’s cut the guy some slack. This guy ain’t no saint. I think it’s best that we stop pointing fingers unless we’re truly sure of ourselves.  And to think of what this man has accomplished in life with all the wealth and fame, to breaking records of epic proportions and remain as humble as he is… that’s quite commendable. It’s the honor this man brings to this country that should headline the news. Not sultry Krista.

High School Days

I'm supposed to cringe at the sight of these pictures but i'm posting it anyway so I may ask Ems "Would a 26 inch waistline match this guy in the picture?"