My friends say that I am a walking pall of gloom.  Not that I’m emo or anything, I just happen to not be the life of the party.  I don’t care if I use 17 less facial muscles whenever I smile.  Deadpan people, people knocked dead with a frying pan, and frying pans run over by exploding steamrollers have a higher emotional quotient than I do.  Cheery, bubbly, artificially-happy people upset me.

I was a McDonald’s at Katipunan when this cute, petite cashier started beaming as she took my order, and asked if I wanted to upgrade my large fries to that “Shake Shake” promotional thing for Kung Fu Panda.  “Sure,” I replied, knowing that I have four options less than what they sell at Potato Corner for a fraction of the price.  After taking my order of a cheeseburger, large Coke, and the bag of barbecue-flavored french fries, I sat sullenly on a table and, well, read the instructions:

For best results, shake in front of face.

The flux was that about?

I guess “The Million-Dollar Man” Ted DiBiase was right: “Everything has a price.”  A couple of months back when we had a road trip to Tagaytay City, there was this Flying V station by the highway where the gas boys, in the effort to attract customers, danced to the tune of “YMCA” by the Village People.  Pump price?  More than P50.  Sight of gas attendants dancing classic 1970s disco hit sans Indian headdress, sailor outfit, police uniform, and patent leather body suit at 3 PM heat?  Priceless.

*     *     *

On musical notes, there are three things that pissed me off this weekend:

• Annoying falsettos of Leona Lewis.  I don’t know what’s up with “Bleeding Love.”  It reminds me of the 1980s, Tiffany, and girls with the hiccups reaching a point of orgasm.
• “ABBA:” The Musical.  IKEA products, not ABBA, are the greatest cultural exports of Sweden.
• Apple bottom jeans (jeans) and boots with the fur (with the furr…).  ‘Nuff said.

*     *     * 

Notes from professional wrestling: I was in high spirits last week when CM Punk cashed in his Money in the Bank opportunity and became the new World Heavyweight Champion.  I’m a big fan of independent wrestling promotions (especially Ring of Honor, Combat Zone Wrestling, and of course, ChickFight), and I am a big fan of CM Punk’s ring ability.  There was this spoiler that Bryan Danielson of ROH had a very successful dark match win over Lance Cade.  Danielson is one of the very best in the world today, and he deserves to be thrust in the limelight.

My shallow expectation: CM Punk vs. Bryan Danielson in the very near future.

CM Punk’s win offset the worst pro wrestling news I had in years: the return of the Ultimate Warrior (25 June 2008, Nu-Wrestling Evolution).  Boy, if Warrior sucked before, he sure as hell sucks now.  If you can stand it, watch the match on YouTube… I wish he’d just tear down the cockpit door, get to the capsule he came from, and make his way to Parts Unknown.

I was at a bus when I heard an OPM translation of Rihanna’s “Umbrella,” which went something like, “Para di ka na mabasa ng ulan / ulan / ulan / hindi, hindi / di mabasa ng ulan / ulan / ulan / hindi, hindi…” Needless to say, I was pissed.  Last I checked, I began this whole schtick of translating lyrics: fine, I’m delusional and selfish.  For two, my philosophy of translating lyrics is to capture the essence: to stick to the original as much as possible.

Which means I would have rather have had it that whats-her-face sang “Payong / payong / yeh, yeh, yeh / sa ilalim ng payong / payong payong / yeh, yeh, yeh…”

Peeved as I was, I still wanted to translate lyrics of a popular song… like, “Always Be My Baby.”  Not the Mariah Carey version, but the David Cook “American Idol” version… here goes:

*     *     *

IKAW PA RIN ANG IIBIGIN
Translation of “Always Be My Baby” by Mariah Carey/David Cook

Minsan sa ‘ting buhay
Naging tayong dalawa
Akala ko’y habambuhay
Pag-ibig natin sa isa’t isa

Gusto mo nang lumaya
Handa ‘kong magparaya
Dahil sa aking puso
Ikaw pa rin ang mahal ko

Bahagi ka ng buhay ko
Ikaw pa rin ang nasa puso ko, oh
Kahit ako ma’y iyong lisanin
Alam kong ikaw pa rin ang iibigin
Narito ako
Hihintayin ang pagbabalik mo, oh
Pilit mo man akong kalimutin
Alam mong ako pa rin iyong iibigin

Di kita iiyakan
Di kita pipilitin
Kung gusto mo na ‘kong iwan
Dapat ko lang tanggapin

Ngunit panahon lang
Aking hihintayin
Dahil balang araw
Babalik ka sa aking piling

Bahagi ka ng buhay ko
Ikaw pa rin ang nasa puso ko, oh
Kahit ako ma’y iyong lisanin
Alam kong ikaw pa rin ang iibigin
Narito ako
Hihintayin ang pagbabalik mo, oh
Pilit mo man akong kalimutin
Alam mong ako pa rin iyong iibigin

Balang araw babalik ka rin
Lalamig ang gabi na hindi mo ako kasama
Balang araw babalik ka rin
Konting panahon lang, ‘king mahal, maniwala ka…

Bahagi ka ng buhay ko
Ikaw pa rin ang nasa puso ko, oh
Kahit ako ma’y iyong lisanin
Alam kong ikaw pa rin ang iibigin
Narito ako
Hihintayin ang pagbabalik mo, oh
Pilit mo man akong kalimutin
Alam mong ako pa rin iyong iibigin

*     *     *

Renz Verano, I have your next big hit.

A friend of mine sent me an e-mail about a certain Friendster blogger named “ihatecofi,” who has some rather caustic comments about “Orcs.” Thanks to a Google-search, I found that the blogger maintains a separate blog at “Make Poverty History,” where he has even more caustic comments about “Orcs.”

Instead of pissing me off, the blogger made me think a bit deeper than usual.

Some weeks back, I wrote about the political life of what I call the “call center generation (CCG).” The hallmark of our generation is business placement outsourcing, whether it’s in a windowless office or a home-based job that requires an Internet connection (I belong to the “windowless office” category). While I do appreciate The Warrior Lawyer’s thoughtful perspective that the CCG is the “first truly globally-oriented generation of Filipinos,” I still see things in terms of a less-than-optimistic light. The challenge to the CCG is the motto of Friends of the Earth: “Think globally, act locally.”

Anyway, the BPO is like being caught between a rock and a hard place:

• Factor 1: Outsourcing represents an aggressive, unsustainable economic policy that drains human resources and many forms of capital;
• Factor 2: Outsourcing represents a convenient and (hopefully) temporary means of employment to address basic human needs and other canons of taste.

I’m not an economist, but from what I do know (please correct me if I’m wrong), institutional economics - represented by thinkers like Thorstein Veblen and John Kenneth Galbraith - eschews the rigors of mathematics in favor of a socio-cultural approach to economic perspectives. Perfect, since I think that an economist will explain Factor 2 in terms of line graphs and funky equations.

Veblen, in particular, is known for the concept of “conspicuous consumption.” In The Theory of the Leisure Class, Veblen observes:

Conspicuous consumption of valuable goods is a means of reputability to the gentleman of leisure. As wealth accumulates on his hands, his own unaided effort will not avail to sufficiently put his opulence in evidence by this method. The aid of friends and competitors is therefore brought in by resorting to the giving of valuable presents and expensive feasts and entertainments. Presents and feasts had probably another origin than that of naïve ostentation, but they acquired their utility for this purpose very early, and they have retained that character to the present; so that their utility in this respect has now long been the substantial ground on which these usages rest.

“Veblen goods,” or in a word: Starbucks.

I won’t be sanctimonious as to say that I do not enjoy the occasional frappé, the less-than-occasional pack of Dunhill Filters, or the definitely-not-occasional trips to malls. To keep up with the Joneses is something consistent with - or even corollary to - capitalist society, which is manifested in this case by outsourcing. Alcohol and coffee become necessary as social needs to survive in stressful work environments, even if in some cases, indulgence in luxury goods and activities come at the expense of basic necessities like food and transportation.

The horror of it is that after hours of inbound tech support and outbound telemarketing, it takes a cup of coffee and the atrocity called San Mig Light to make you feel human (before you send me hate-mail, I’m a Pale Pilsen guy). It is reminiscent of Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle, although with a more corporate twist, sans the horrors of slaughterhouses in the 1900s…

But that’s another story.