Saturday, November 01, 2008


Allow me to christen MMDA Chairman Bayani Fernando with a new label - 'Father of Metro Manila.' In the vernacular, that would mean 'Ama ng Metro Manila' or magulang. For magulang indeed is he. Imagine, together with his wife-accomplice Marikina City Mayor Marides Fernando, they have flooded the Loyola Memorial Park in Marikina City with Bayani Fernando tarpaulins and posters. One can only imagine what other places including several other cemeteries are filled with his tarpaulins. As a matter of fact, they were so plenty that they probably outnumbered the dead buried in that final resting place. They simply have no respect at all for both the living and the dead. With Bayani's 'magulang' schemes and tactics, I won't be surprised if the names of the dead will be listed as registered voters in Marikina and then would be voting for him in 2010, if and when he runs for president. But for now, let us zero in on his silly slogans and his idiotic innuendos like the new 'Bayani 2010' stickers now seen on Tamaraw FX taxis, and his new photos on 'improved' posters. I think they're simply a different picture with the same bull. I've said it before, if he can't play fair while he's still a local executive, how fair do you think will he be if he becomes a national executive? God forbid. Bayani Fernando is so 'bilib sa sarili,' he thinks he's God's gift to Metro Manila and the country, which explains his lust for the presidency. But, what he and his mindless supporters will soon find out is that 'BF' is one gift we Metro Manilenos would rather not have at all. Thanks but no thanks. Ang taong ginagago'y 'di boboto sayo.


Joc-Joc: "Miguel, Miguel I am sick, call mam Gloria very quick! Gloria, Gloria, shall I die?" (GMA) "No my Joc-Joc, lie and lie!"

Official announcement from St. Luke's Medical Center on Joc-Joc Bolante's health condition:

"Mild recurring headache, slight cough, diarrhea, (he's full of it!), bloodsugar normal, blood pressure: 120/ (over) acting.
(Image from

Friday, October 31, 2008


As mentioned, UNDERTOW will list its top ten pet peeves on an occasional basis, a first-hand experience of them, many as they come, right within the heart of Bayani Fernando's Metro-Gago, Tao-Ginago / "urbanidad pero que barbaridad" metropolis.

My top ten pet peeves for this post are as follows:

1. Bayani Fernando's posters. (katas ng flood control project for Metro Manila?)
2. Subdivision security guards who won't accept your ID and insist on your driver's license. (duh!)
3. SM malls featuring caucasian models on their billboards and posters promoting locally-made clothing and items. (don't you like brown people, Mr. Sy?)
4. Movie-goers sitting near you who (still) talk on their cellphones while the film is on. (are you telling him the story, 'cause I bet your abusing your Sun cellular?!)
5. Cashiers who always ask you for coins before giving you your change. ("may dalawang piso nalang kayo?")
6. Out of order MRT escalators. (MRT=Massive Respiratory Tension)
7. Out of order LRT elevators. (LRT=Lacking Repairs Today)
8. Internet cafe customers who play on-line games, screaming and cursing. ("hey boy, this your house too?")
9. Idiotic noontime shows like 'Wowowee' that promote mendicancy to its contestants both young and old. ("hello papi, ang pogi pogi mo talaga! pa-kiss! penge pera!")
10. Idiotic noontime show hosts like Willie Revillame who openly displays his sexual immorality while exploting young girls on his show. (attention: MTRCB ... again.)

Thursday, October 30, 2008


Well, it will be Halloween once again tomorrow night. Time for children to put on their best costumes and go "trick or treat" in their respective communities. In another neighborhood across the Pasig, there was once a Halloween party a few years ago in Malacanang hosted by no less than President Arroyo herself. Carefully chosen guests were required to come in their best costumes. The cabinet was in attendance. GMA was of course wearing a dwarf's costume while FG Mike came as a Warthog. Donald Dee as a blood-sucking leech, Ronnie Puno came as Pinnochio, Ed Ermita as Methuselah, Butch Pichay as a 1-week old Pechay vegetable, Joey Salceda as the Guyabano man, Cerge Remonde as a dumb donkey, Jun Esperon as another dumb donkey (a bigger ass), Mikey and Luli as a cockroach and a flea respectively (with sincere apologies to cockroaches and fleas for the association). As the invitation required everyone to wear a costume and possibly win the first prize, everyone in attendance hoped to bag it except for one person - Raul Gonzalez. He came as himself wearing his usual everyday 'Americana' attire, and to the surprise of everyone, won the 'best in costume' award.
(Image from

"Woe be to the shepherds of Israel that do feed themselves! Should not the shepherds feed the flocks?" - Ezekiel 34:2

We are a nation of counterfeits. A fake president a.k.a. 'The Mole of Asia,' fake economic programs for the poor, fake DVDs peddled by the same people involved in the fake Memorandum of Agreement on Ancestral Domain (MoA-AD), fake presidential announcements like the US$10 billion standby economic package for the ASEAN from the IMF-World Bank, a fake justice secretary who sides with the influential and the opulent, and tells the oppressed to "jump in the lake," fake environmental programs to eradicate air and water pollution, fake transport lines courtesy of LTFRB officials, fake 'nationalistic messages' from an MMDA chairman who wants to be president in 2010 but can't even win the hearts of motorists who succumb to his despicable posters on EDSA each day, a fake presidential spouse who needs to change the first word of his official title from "first" to "farce," fake churches and fake pastors. It would really take a numb and insolent person to not notice the obvious reality. Could it be that all that brew he has been guzzling down like a bottomless and thirsty 8-cylinder SUV caused his numbness? After all, that is his very reason for drinking, to be numb enough to shut off the real world like a leaking faucet and slip into his fantasyland cajoling his Cinderellas. For the moment, let's change the letter 'N' from the word 'Numb' to the letter 'D.' Now that's more appropriate. You see, after this guy was slapped with the disciplinary action he deserved by the legitimate members of the church board, like a wounded puppy ran he to the 'other half' of the church seeking pity and solace, licking his wounds. These wounds are nothing but simple 'galis tuta,' for he has since grown back to become a fierce wolf ready for the next cheap kill. But a mindless one, for how can he still continue using the official church name when he is no longer connected with his former congregation? And what about the leaders of the 'other church' who allow this to be? I'm sure they are aware of such an infraction. Arrogance? Defiance? Nincompoopery perhaps? Guilt -definitely not. As a man of God, and if he still can swallow that label without choking and turning blue, the only pseudonym I can think of befitting him is 'Ichabod,' which simply means "the glory of God has departed." For if indeed they are misrepresenting themselves as a church led by this man, and if true, how can they now exist prosperously and morally if they are now tainted with a blot of illegitimacy? Pity its congregation who are unaware of the 'sinistry in ministry' courtesy of their pastor and a chosen few who are still blind to the truth. So, if it is true that this 'other church' still uses the very same name used by the legitimate church, they are in for some good old-fashioned trouble. Are they that unimaginative and disrespectful as not to take on a new name? So why not 'South Madagascar Church,' a.k.a. SMC with the motto: "Still together, still lost." Methinks the initials SMC fits the pastor well because he's surely at home with it as SMC will always remind him of San Miguel Corporation, brewers of his favorite numbing juice. I have been told by my unimpeachable source that in one occasion, a church member told his associate pastor, "Bridges have been burned. Let's build new ones," to which the latter replied, "If that is so, I will not be the first one to initiate it." Painful words from a pastor, don't you agree? One can only imagine what kind of ministry he has. So the fact is this: There is absolutely nothing now that links the legitimate church name to the illegitimate pastor and his present church and vice-versa, and whatever work he is doing today. Because under this name is only one church. No satellite church nor outreach at the moment, and any other group or groups outside this church are considered copycats and wannabes. And what if this person is caught again with 'his pants down,' so to speak, and then is fingerprinted and blottered and then introduces himself as a pastor belonging to the legitimate church? Further, I was told that the latter's board will not tolerate this for the simple reason that there's a very big chance the former may fall into the same favorite sin of his again, for such is the pattern he has sewn all these years, a tailor-fit scheme of flowery designs for the sole purpose of satisfying his lust, having no genuine repentance and a 'turning away' from the haunting sin that has caused him to hurt many who have trusted him - his close friends and associates, his trainees and members of his congregation and his own wife. To many, this was a trust given to him once and has now been interred, never to resurrect again. And so, what does a lone wolf do next if he is sent away from the pack, crocodile luggage and all? Well, he sharpens first his sense of smell, and when he picks up a scent of fresh meat, he then follows that scent leading him to the next village, now drooling and hungry. There he is met by what seems like a 'welcome reception,' a bacchanalia of sorts, and there he establishes and reinforces new bonds and deals and tells late-night bonfire stories to them of how heartlessly he has been maltreated, how beaten and bruised he has been, though self-inflicted, and how wonderful are the plans he has for them for a prosperous journey in life. He tells them to run their race together with him. What he doesn't tell them is that he wants a piggy-back ride on them towards the finish line, and just a few meters before the finish line, he jumps away from their backs and dashes to make it ahead of the rest. In some dark and evil corner of his mind, his new 'recruits' are just his next victims, and together with all the recycled and plagiarized teachings he brings is the stark and dark reality that the only prosperity he is after is his own prosperity. It's a reminder to all of us that the prophets of old viewed their lives as something to be consumed by God, whereas today's prophets view their lives as something to be enriched by God. And for him to constantly boast and brag about the number of people who attend his church, let me remind this pastor: Our Lord said, "Feed my sheep." He did not say, "Count them."

Wednesday, October 29, 2008


"Listen to me little fetus, precious homo incompletus.
As you dream your dreams placental, don't grow nothing accidental."

Human life begins long before birth. Much of the debate surrounding reproductive health and abortion concerns the question of when the merger between an egg and a sperm becomes a person. The Bible does not tell us when we start to be humans, but it seems clear that the developing fetus is already human in God's eyes. When Jeremiah was called to serve the Lord God, he heard some strange words: "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I set you apart. I appointed you as a prophet to the nations." Apparently, God considered Jeremiah to be a person long before he was born. The same conclusion might be reached about John the Baptist. When his mother Elizabeth was greeted by Mary, the baby "leaped in the womb." It could be argued of course that the child was responding only physically to an adrenaline upsurge in the mother, but Elizabeth assumed that "the baby in my womb leaped for joy!" This seems like a real life that was able to experience joy even before his birthday. Another Bible passage would support this conclusion. The Psalmist David wrote that he was "sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me." - Psalm 139:13-16. David praises God who "knit me together in my mother's womb" and "saw my unformed body." The fetus was not considered to be merely some impersonal biological organism. Human life was assumed to start before birth. It must start at some time during the gestation or prenatal development, and most likely it starts at conception.

Monday, October 27, 2008


Joc-Joc Bolante arrives at the NAIA:

REPORTER: Sir, any statement?
BOLANTE: Madam President, thanks for the millions ... aaah ... este ... a million thanks pala mam!

(Image from

"He goeth after her straightway, as an ox goeth to the slaughter." - Proverbs 7:22

Church leaders who have been told of the immorality of their pastor and still act as if looking forward and moving forward are the only ingredients needed in forgetting the past are in for a big embarrassment and disappointment. Every issue, especially unpleasant, must have an end. A closure. Otherwise, it remains as wide as a gaping wound needing sutures or it will never heal, spreading its gangrene to the rest of the body. It's as simple as someone who is in the know of a crime being committed several times, and then approaches the felon to tell him that he has seen the criminal acts, winks at him in a sinister fashion, and then whispers that he won't tell anyone about it. The former lifts the rug while the latter sweeps the garbage towards it, all at the expense of the unsuspecting congregation. When one is focused on the preacher alone and then ends his vision there, he should soon realize and accept the cruel fact that the preacher has a good chance of being as crooked as scoliosis or as vile as our politicians. But to some, this is simply a tolerable matter. Our subject predator-pastor continues performing his favorite pastime - fooling people, next only to drinking and tinkering with gadgets he calls "the opposite sex." And sure enough, fools are born each day who later in that same day become his instant recruits. It's really so simple to test this person. Just listen carefully to what he says as a broken record plays on an on, and then look closely and you see a whole masquerade and a facade of sorts where it really is the world he lives in, and see the contrasting elements. If you ask me, I'd put my money on the duck in a cockfight rather than bet on a fellow who pretends to be anyone except himself. Freaky as it is, he really is ultimately after your soul, because if he succeeds conquering it, he can command you to do anything. And that is exactly what he has been doing to weak-willed women. After having swept everything under the rug, our predator-pastor is back in fighting form once again, drooling and all, ready to devour his next victim. Just a word of caution to his blind fanatics: when walking with him out in the open, I suggest that you step back several meters behind him. He is a candidate to be struck by lightning at any given time of the day. And yes, if it misses him, it shall defy all logic and rationale by striking at the same spot twice. You see, you could be at the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person. For God is angry at him and is just being patient with him, But even God runs out of patience, especially if the subject person involved is one who looks at female church members as slabs of steak or pieces of frozen meat he can thaw towards sin, and one who pretends to be an upright man of God. One who looks at you face to face with an angelic smile, and then as you turn your back, paints a mental dartboard of yourself in his lustful mind. I'm just so amazed at how he can manage to hide his tail, or how he can speak in a way that his forked-tongue may not be detected. Now I know why he always wears oversized baseball caps. His horns grow a centimeter longer each time he devours his prey - an inherent character of a ram which coincidentally is the enemy's favorite symbolic animal. So, since his spiritual padrinos and padrinas would rather punch their boy with oversized boxing gloves, applying a mock-up type of disciplinary action instead of addressing the issues point by point, describing the situation may be summed up with these words: Evil is near. Sometimes late at night when the air grows clammy and cold around us as we feel it brushing us. And all that he asks is acquiescence. Not struggle nor conflict, but acquiescence.


I am a Pasayeno. 216 Villaruel Street was the address of the family for the longest time. In there was the family compound composed of four houses. Right next to our house stood an imposing tree visible miles away. It probably served as a landmark for travelling pilgrims looking for a place to stay for the night. It was also perhaps a humble abode of a local capre smoking his favorite Churchills. The gate was often manned by Mang Paeng, a stolid yet kind-hearted man who would intercept any one entering the compound - including stray cats attracted with the aroma of tuyo in the frying pan. Our neighbors were good families, to name a few, the Roxas family who lived in front, the Lopez family next door, the Pardo family, the Alfonso family, the Zuluaga family, the Campos family, the Rufino family, and the Gamalinda family who would later on rent our house soon after we left. At the corner of Villaruel and Luna streets stood the beautiful Monterey Apartments, a sprawling coterie of quaint and cozy units for the buena familias. Down the road along Luna was the Nawasa office with a water fountain in the middle. Nearby was the Swanky Motel that had a short-cut passage leading to Taft Avenue. Further down the road towards Manila was the Manila Sanitarium Hospital run by the Seventh-Day Adventist Church. The street corner on the other side too was Leveriza where Aling Tinay's sari-sari store stood. Trips to her store were always a treat for me for it meant I would be enjoying her Choco-Vim, Choc-Nut, Canada Dry Uva drinks, Bayani, Sunta and Sarsi. Further down the road along Leveriza stood a big house owned by Tomas Cloma, an explorer of sorts who would discover the Spratly Islands years before any foreign soul would set foot on it. Could he have named it Tomas' Site instead? He would go on to establish the Philippine Merchant Marine School (PMMS). SM malls were still a thing of the future, and we didn't care at all for we had the Cartimar Shopping Complex. There, one would find the latest PX goods. Cartimar had it all - Munsingwear, Grand Slam, Bally shoes and not the (Marikina) valley shoes, and the flashiest Banlon shirts, a must wear to be hip in those days. Across the PX department was the Cartimar pet shops where one would find exotic animals like the musang or wild cat, the giant bayawak or monitor lizard, and occasionally, one would see a pilandok or mouse-deer native only to Palawan. Today, those animals are either endangered or extinct. I must admit that I somehow contributed to the animal trade for I frequented the pet shops to buy my favorite turtles and ulupong to make them as house pets. The Pasay I knew then is not the Pasay I know now. It has now evolved into a haven of Karaoke fanatics belting out their favorite OPMs. The streets are now slowly disappearing to give way to the tricycle terminals and the carinderias, and also sometimes if unchecked, video kareras on the bangketas. But whatever the city has now become, Pasay will always be what it is to me, a place of my childhood memories.