whapakk.

1. I’m an hour off. I should’ve been up by twelve.

I’m now looking at the fantastic backlog I’ve created. What a mess, what a happy birthday present. Except it isn’t my birthday yet. I have to treat it like it is, though, if I want to accomplish something by the time it comes around.

I’m ranting. I’m not supposed to rant at all, I think.

Perhaps I should credit two and a half decades of wanting something and not actually racing to get it for this logjam at the milestones department. Where’s the success, I ask me, and right there, stuck in the funnel, I answer. Inexcusable.

There’s a gun in my drawer. There’s a bang in the office.

This pile of work’s shot, and I say let’s start from scratch, eh?

2. To the bartender, I said:

I was talking to this poker chip and he said he wanted out. Told me that he was filthy and beaten up and thrown away worse than a rag doll. He was a trophy, and probably of the dirtiest kind, both in worth and function. He told me he has had enough of his life and he wanted freedom.

So I pocketed the chip and told him about the stories of the hamburger who got devoured minutes after he was prepared by this small-fry cook at a fastfood joint. I told him about how lucky he was, how he needed not be afraid of hungry women who would kiss him first with lipstick before chewing him to death.

He told me he would rather die in someone else’s stomach than be thrown around as a representative of money for eternity. I disagreed, for this poker chip had the capacity to think, and when there is that capacity, there is always a positive upside to immortality. There is a benefit for the rest of Creation.

And the poker chip told me that he is of the selfish kind, and that he does not care about any gambler, any dealer, or any goddamned casino owner. For him, the world revolved around him, that the world without a tool like him to throw around would never survive.

He asked for his freedom, and in response I dropped him through a manhole, which to him was the equivalent of hell. At that point, I realized the only way the poker chip would be free: a great flood that will wash him away into the land above him now.

The bartender asked me, “How could you do such a thing to a poor fella?” to which I answered:

I had a great idea, and it does not have anything to do with anything we talked about. I simply had to drop him. It does not matter whether he had his freedom or not. What matters is that he is insignificant and I had the chance for an experiment that will bring me excitement.

Adversity forces evolution. Imagine a poker chip with the ability to act on its own. Now, would that not be a sight?

In the likely chance that he would not evolve, I have already forgotten about him.

3. I sat down with Jale and told him that I’m interested in traveling through time. He asked, “And if you could venture into the past, what would that thing be that you would correct?”

The explanation was supposed to be brief, but what I told him was this:

Nothing.

I would very much like to see the future. I’ve read somewhere that life, technology, and business opportunities, they’re like bouncing balls. Today, the ball bounces and hits this spot right here. This is the wave of the present. This is what we do. This is where we are, what we are about.

To capitalize on future opportunities, one must predict where the second bounce will hit. If your direction is to the west and the ball bounces to the east, you’ve lost that opportunity for success, and in addition, you’ll have to work double-time to make up for lost ground. If your direction is to the east where the ball would bounce, you could perhaps catch it and find success.

The ability to see the future would mean an advantage over everyone else who cannot.

“But that’s not fair.”

Give me a book that says it is unethical to look into the future for whatever advantage and I’ll agree with you.

This isn’t boxing. I can kick anyone’s balls and tell him he’s the weak one for not covering it with his two hands when I attacked him. The last rulebooks I’ve seen people respect were holy texts and “covenants” between God and us.

I’ve never seen anything about kicking balls or time traveling in those texts.

Drunken Master.

Jackie Chan’s Drunken Master (1978) shows early examples of his signature infusion of slapstick comedy and awesome moves (and stunts) into fight scenes. Here, he plays the character of Wong Fei Hung (or in the version I watched, Freddy Wong), a mischievous and happy-go-lucky kid who often gets into trouble. By trouble, I mean fights, and when I say fights, I mean incredibly unpredictable fight scenes (which is what I love about watching Jackie Chan’s movies).

The jacksquat.

At the basics, there are three ingredients that go into this movie: the cool fight scenes, Wong Fei Hung’s training exercises, and the story nobody cares about. Since nobody cares much about the third element of the film, I’d say this is a great movie on the first and second ingredients’ merits. However, I don’t mean that the back story isn’t enjoyable; in fact, I’ve had a few laughs watching Beggar So (Wong Fei Hung’s teacher) and his student claw their way out of trouble more than once.

Wong Fei Hung is mischief and appetite rolled into one. Sorta like me.

Here’s the short story. Wong Fei Hung (Jackie Chan) gets into trouble from the get-go, in three separate and isolated fights: with his martial arts class’ teaching assistant, with his aunt when he tried to make advances on a girl that turned out to be his cousin, and with a troublemaker who tries to get the better of a poor merchant. Because of the shitload of problems he’s brought home thanks to the said fights, his father threatens to disown him and sends him off to train with Beggar So, a renowned master of kung fu. He gets the training and, fast-forwarding towards the end of the film, he becomes a master of Drunken Boxing as if in preparation for his fight with his father’s assassin.

His best friend is an Archie clone.

Beggar So, the drunken master.

The Drunken Boxing style actually exists in traditional Chinese martial arts and in the sport of wushu, although I’ve yet to see it. While it’s nice to hear that it is not advisable to use it while intoxicated (for fear of injury, since the style needs a certain degree of balance and athleticism to perform), I just think that takes the fun out of it. Ang tunay na lalake, lumalaban nang basag!

Practice makes perfect!

Beggar So’s secret style of Drunken Boxing is the emulation of the Eight Drunken Immortals, each immortal representing a different set of forms, stances, and moves. Wong Fei Hung eventually masters seven of the eight styles, complaining that the eighth style (that of Miss Ho, the only female among the immortals) is too feminine and actually looks stupid in combat. Apparently, he didn’t get the memo that the more ridiculous he looks in the fight scenes, the more fun we have watching him.

Practicing the forms of the Eight Drunken Immortals: cool.

Now this, I think, I've had enough practice for the purpose of actual combat.

The verdict. For the comedy and the sheer awesomeness of Jackie Chan and his moves, it’s easy giving this movie a rating of 10/10.

Enter the Dragon.

What better way to kick off this series of movie posts than with Bruce Lee’s classic film, Enter the Dragon? It was Lee’s final appearance in a movie, having been released in Hong Kong in 1973, only six days after his death. It was also the first Chinese martial arts movie to be produced by a Hollywood studio. Perhaps as important, you must note, is the opening fight sequence between Lee and a young Sammo Hung with that grade school boy hairstyle (am kidding, but here goes). For some reason, he reminds me of a chubby Goin’ Bulilit cast member:

Whatup Sammo!

The story is pretty straightforward, and the fight scenes even more so. Bruce Lee’s kinda invincible here, getting but a few scratches in his toughest fight with the boss towards the end of the movie. It’s understandable. As they say, if there’s someone out there who used to kick Chuck Norris’ ass, it was Bruce Lee. If Norris is on God Mode, Lee was on Godder Mode.

This is a kill face, brothas, you know, the face you wear when you kill. Peksman!

The film also features actors John Saxon (as the gambling fighter) and Jim Kelly. Lesser known fact, is this guy right here is also in the movie:

Before: "Stuntman." After: "Jackie Chan."

Although uncredited, Jackie Chan was part of the movie as a stuntman. Of course, Bruce Lee just whoops his ass and breaks his neck. (You have much to learn, young grasshopper!) I must say, however, that more ruthless than Lee’s character is the less-ripped-more-sadistic Bolo, one of the most formidable fighters on the villains’ side:

Tanginathis!

Right. You stare death in the face and he is smiling.

The film’s most memorable scene is probably the last fight scene where Lee fights Han (the boss villain) in a room full of mirrors. It’s an instant classic. Yes, Lee would later realize that the easiest way to deal with his opponent is to simply break mirrors to expose the cowardly Han, but still, it was a cool trick.

Nobody wants to see an angry Bruce Lee. Not even Chuck Norris!

The verdict. What, are you kidding me? If a Chuck Norris film should get an automatic 10/10, I’d give this an eleven. However, since Mr. Norris is not part of my weekend viewing schedule, I’m giving Enter the Dragon nothing more than a perfect 10.

Ahna Capri stars as Han's (the primary antagonist) secretary.

Note. Before I sign off, I would like to dedicate this entry to Ms. Ahna Capri who starred in this movie. She passed away ten days ago. My respects to her and her family.

I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce to everyone my officemates at Nuffnang Philippines. Meet the Nuffies:

Patty.

1. Meet Patty. You don’t want to get Nuffnang’s resident party girl drunk. I promise you, she’s too entertaining, and she can probably crack people up more than the cracking they can handle. (On second thought, maybe you’d want to get her drunk, just for kicks.) She does spy work for the company, at least the part of that work that requires brains. Everyone else does the fieldwork.

Anne.

2. Meet Anne. She’s the absolute workhorse, and one of the main engines that keeps the company running. Wondering who to thank for most of the blog contests that came in your way the past months? Thank Anne (after thanking the sponsors, of course.)

Marcelle.

3. Meet Marcelle. This guy goes by so many names: Marcelle, Kel, Magikel, Marcie, and other ones I dare not write about here. Radio jock by early morning, account executive by normal working hours, and stand-up-comedian-slash-magician-slash-event-host-slash-MTG-warrior by night, is there anything he can’t do?

Yes, I think there are things that exist out there (and normal people don’t really have to look far to see) that are beyond his imagination, but that information’s confidential.

Rendhl.

4. Meet Rendhl. Rendhl is responsible for maintaining the official Nuffnang blog and keeping all the ad placements on schedule. She actually does a little bit of everything and like I used to say, whoever is in charge of ad operations is every account executive’s best friend.

Denise.

5. Meet Denise. Meet the newest member of the Nuffnang Philippines team, Denise! She’s been in the office for less than month and I think she has a lot of potential as part of the sales team. She’s hardworking and has proven that she can come up with great ideas from the get-go, and that means a lot to everyone else in the office.

Trixie.

6. Meet Trixie. I don’t get her. I just don’t get her. She disappears for about a month on vacation in New York and I don’t get what the hell she’s doing back here in the Philippines. She should have stayed there for good, I know most other people would, but hell yeah she’s back, and while I don’t get what she’s doing back in the office, we’re surely grateful she is.

Carlos.

7. Meet Carlos. This newly-crowned (can I say “crowned,” really?) Country Manager is getting all sorts of calls from restaurants for his awesome photography skills and kick-ass food blog, FoodieManila. He’s also sort of trying to manage a triple life as a boxer and a bassist for the band tentatively named The Dancing Fufus (you’ve heard it from me first).

Uh.

8. Tanginamogago! That’s me, and I need no introduction. I’m great.

I clocked out at 2.20AM, exited Bonifacio High Street about ten minutes later. That security guard (again) asked me, “Sir, wala na po bang tao sa taas? (Sir, is there no one left upstairs?)” I told him no, that I locked the office, then thanked him for asking. The whole commercial complex’s so dead at such an hour; well, perhaps if Mag:net Cafe was still around, there’d be the usual Monday Rockeoke crowd still walking around after a few bottles of BBZ. That, however, ain’t the case, and there ain’t no substitute for that brand of good old week-starter fun.

I tried hailing a cab at Serendra, but not one vacant ride stopped for me. Aight, fuck y’all. I crossed the residential-commercial complex and stepped on a cat’s tail in the process; fuck you, too, pussy. Market! Market! was half-alive with call center agents being their zombie selves. One agent was staring at me at the convenience store while I was reaching for a fifty-peso bill to pay for my bottle of iced tea; I shot her an annoyed look, paid for my drink, and walked away. She looked like a goddamned witch. Sorry. She really did.

I got a cab, plugged my newly-busted earphones in my ears and played some Jet. Faintly, in the background, I heard the taxi driver grumble about trucks speeding along the highway. He said they scare the shit out of him. Okay, sir, noted, now shut up, I’m trying to listen to some punk-ass kid (only he ain’t a kid no more) do a funky falsetto on Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is.

“Para na diyan sa tabi, maglalakad nalang ako. (Stop it right there, I’ll just walk from here.)” But I was bullshitting the driver. I wasn’t going to walk, fuck that. I rode a padyak home. Because that’s how I roll. You wanna ride with me, girl? You hafta learn to ride the padyak!

Familiar faces on the silver screen.

I’m a Tekken fan since it’s PlayStation days (that would mean around 1996-97, when I got my copy of Tekken 2 on the console and Heihachi still had black hair). I never cared much about the story behind the game. I just wanted to smash my opponents’ faces in with Heihachi’s foot.

Still, I was quite surprised when I found out that not only did Namco let a Tekken movie be produced, but that it was just right around the corner – just about a week before it hit the cinemas, to be more specific. I was like, “Wow, tanginang ‘yan, may pelikula palang Tekken?” I was excited for about five minutes, then I realized that I’d better not expect anything from it, given Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, and DOA’s failures to deliver compelling stories in the movies that featured them. I was stupid: I thought that movies were supposed to tickle the viewer’s imagination by default, and I never thought that fans of these games previously mentioned probably never cared much about the story behind the fights, anyway. I know I never cared about it much, too.

So when I watched the movie, I just expected a lot of smashing faces and groans from kicks and superhuman punches (I’m talking about Mr. Fury), and I saw that and not a lot more, which is a good thing, because I enjoyed the movie.

Just a few notes about some characters seen in the movie:

Eddy Gordo.

Eddy Gordo. One of my favorite characters from the series! Too bad he didn’t get a lot of screen time (not to mention he fought like crap), but that’s okay, because Christie got a lot of that from start to finish and she was (supposedly) equipped with moves similar to him. Also, I’d rather have Christie get the screen time over Eddy for obvious reasons.

Raven.

Raven. Fuck, man, this guy was supposed to be supercool and all, but it only took one bullet to render him useless in the movie! Come on! Raven should have brought down Mishima Zaibatsu even on his own! (But yeah, I’d rather have him take the bullet than Christie, or Nina, or Anna, even.)

Yoshimitsu.

Yoshimitsu. The part when Jin took on Yoshimitsu for a match was just stupid: everyone knows Tekken isn’t a fight where you equip people with weapons (except Yoshimitsu, of course). This ain’t no Soulcalibur!

Nina and Anna Williams.

Nina and Anna Williams. I’ve only two things to say about these characters: boobs.

Bryan Fury.

Bryan Fury. It’s quite surprising when you see a character developed in the earlier parts of the movie as someone who can easily smash through a concrete wall yet fail to kill a guy with one punch to the face. What the hell are you slacking off for, Mr. Fury? Surely, Jin’s face couldn’t be tougher than several layers of concrete? Weak.

That’s that. I think I enjoyed the movie despite it’s flaws if only because Christie’s butt crack was showing almost the whole time.