Pardon me, but I won’t be doing any linkage for this entry.  It’s just a stream-of-thought thing.

Jester has been taking a lot of flak (OK, crap), from a certain post made by a certain Dennis Relojo on his blog.  The lot of you may already know about the “UP Students = Fake Scholars” controversy, and I think that at least one of you may want to know where I stand, as an exponent of the University of the Philippines.  I’m not going to make any friends with what I’m going to say anyway.  Don’t worry, I’ll try my best to be very, very nice just so that nobody will get offended.

Reading the comments makes me want to challenge the claim that UP students are “likas na magaling at matatalino.” I do not question the intelligence of UP students.  In my long (insert coefficient here) stay in UP, there is no doubt in that assumption.  To doubt “native intelligence” would be to doubt my own intelligence (which I do a lot anyway, so argument is rendered moot).  Yet doubt, ladies and gentlemen, can be raised to the circumstances as to how a UP student got there.  So while we’re in the business of raising doubts, let me raise doubt as to how each and every one of us got to UP anyway:

• Statistics. Some smart-ass invented a thing called an “examination” to determine one’s native intelligence and capacity to enter an institution of higher learning.  In order to evaluate one’s intelligence and mental capacity, a statistical limit to the right of the Bell curve - the cut-off - is set in order to determine if someone “deserves” whatever reward there is.  When you reach this limit set by the examiners of the UPCAT, then you can say you deserve to enter UP.  This cut-off is the bare minimum necessary to determine if you “possess the native intelligence” necessary to make it to UP.  Like many things about UP, everything boils down to numbers.
• Injustice. Some smart-ass decided that for the exam to be profitable, one has to charge a fee in order for someone to take an exam.  A reasonably priced P450 fee was instituted for someone to be able to take the UPCAT.  Now P450 may not seem much, but you can imagine a very bright girl from the provinces who walks barefoot for five kilometers to get to school, with nothing but five pesos to buy fish crackers to go along with her baon of cold rice.  She tops her class and possesses the “native intelligence” necessary for a UP student; but she could not, by any means, afford the fee necessary to take the UPCAT.  Or much less, afford the board, lodging, and other necessities for a college education at UP Diliman.  Thanks to an injustice, we were all able to step on the dreams of this girl to be able to make it to UP.

Is there really anything else that determines one’s place in UP other than statistics and injustice?  Like destiny?  God’s will?  Fate?  Because we drank milk and ate peanuts the day of the UPCAT that we ended up having diarrhea?  Well… not really.

This brings me to the third - and perhaps my favorite - reason why we all got into UP:

• Damn luck. For all this talk about being “entitled” or “owed,” we forget that a lot about this world works around, well, a helluva lot of swerte. It’s so difficult to enter UP; the difficulty of the UPCAT is the least of those reasons.  Chance, that only morality in a cruel world that’s unbiased, unprejudiced and fair (I’m lifting off lines from “The Dark Knight” all of a sudden), made it possible for you to overcome the statistical difficulty of the UPCAT, and also made it possible for P450 to be within the means of your parents.  Yes, for all our collective bravado of “native intelligence,” we all are just… well, lucky people who happened to be at the right place at the right time.

Let’s not dunk our heads on the “activist” and “social” part of these circumstances, and let’s just dwell on the epiphany of being “UPians” (sheesh, that’s irritating) on the basis of statistics, injustice, and damn luck.  I don’t want to say that you’re behooved to work for the greatest good of the greatest number, liberate them from oppression, free them from the chains of injustices, yadda yadda yadda.  But then again, that is what makes us different from other schools.

It’s called “defining your situation,” ladies and gentlemen.  The fact that we’re “Iskolar ng Bayan” is not a license to be entitled for anything except that imperative to be worth something, to be a cog in the wheel of the improvement of the lives of the people, regardless of whether or not the subsidize you or subsidize you enough.  To say that you’re entitled to this and that is a formality, a technicality, a non-necessity.  The same UP that is capable of being the cradle of this country’s history is capable of unmaking it; the same institution that is capable of fostering excellence is also capable of fostering mediocrity.

That itself is superheroic, and is now usually taken as a suggestion, mainly because being a “UPian” these days means to have the entitlement to be chosen by a company above someone else from a different school.  That’s a bag of bollocks.  The expectation is not that you will get your much-needed slap-in-the-face when you graduate and get a job, but you get it while you’re still in school.  It’s not a matter of learning humility (which is a superhero ability), but a matter of learning perspective before arrogance - which comes from a lack of perspective, not necessarily the right one - sets in and takes you over, and give you that paranoid delusion that yor loyalty lies in UP, not the people.

I’ll treat you to a cheeseburger if you can name me a call center that does not, in one way, shape or form, employ a UP graduate.  I’ll treat you to two cheeseburgers if you can honestly say to yourself that you made it to UP for reasons other than statistics, injustice and damn luck.  That’s a fair enough reward for a challenge.

I hope that my little stream of thought dignifies this controversy, or at least lowers my blood pressure.

Would I dignify a blog controversy?  Nah…

There are songs to make love with, and then there are songs that just make you feel… well, horny.

Music has a lot to do with libido.  Carlos Santana’s “Europa,” for example, is the kind of piped music you’d expect in a gay bar (not that I know anything about gay bars).  Anyone who watched porn would have heard of those deep, rhythmic bass sequences followed by the saxophone solos from a guy who plays Kenny G music through a Kazoo.  Speaking of Kenny G, I don’t find it horny at all: “Silhouette” and “Forever in Love” are music better suited for idle days at 7-Eleven, provincial buses, and Japanese movie channels on intermission.  And Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” does not reek of horniness: it reeks of sex.

Anyway, here’s this week’s X-List:

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10.  Boyz II Men, “I’ll Make Love To You”

A lot about what the comedian Pablo Francisco calls “brother music” revolves around the musical celebration of sex.  It all depends on how sexy you can get it.  Like pouring the wine, lighting the fire, throwing your clothes on the floor, so I’ll take my clothes off too.

The 1990s was a time ripe - and rife - with Boyz II Men clones (anyone can remember All-4-One and “I Can Love You Like That”), but nothing beats the original when it comes to overall… horniness.  “I’ll Make Love To You,” like many of the group’s non-wholesome songs (like “Uhh Ahh” and “Four Seasons of Loneliness…” I just find it wrong), is about good old-fashioned fem-dom bitchin’.  It’s so romantic, and at the same time so… BDSM.

My favorite part: “Baby tonight is your night / And I will do you right / Just make a wish on your night / Anything that you ask / I will give you the love of your life / Your life / Your life…”

9.  Keith Sweat, “Twisted”

It may sound so racist, but when it comes to horny jams, you simply can’t beat a black dude.  Keith Sweat’s “Twisted” has horny written all over it.  For one, I think that you can’t get any hornier with a name like “Keith Sweat;” I don’t care if your Keith Urban, Keith Richards, or Toby Keith.

To be honest, I don’t really know what “Twisted” is all about.  On the one hand, it sounds like a dirty love song about making up and making love.  On the other hand, you get reminded of a game of Naked Twister.  “Twisted” also kind of makes you suffer from a bit of bad LSS, if only to sing the song as if you have a sinus problem.  Well, it does sound like it.

My favorite part (except for Keith Sweat doing the second voice things): “You got me twisted, thinkin’ ’bout the way that things used to be / When it was you and me girl, I was so free / See you had my heart from the start like Cupid / And I was just downright foolish and stupid.”  Reprised later on by the Philippines’ own Salbakuta.

8.  Meat Loaf, “I Would Do Anything For Love”

Like many of you, I don’t understand this song one bit.  Some folks find this song romantic, some people find this song alluring, some people find the late Selena sexy, and heck some people even find Meat Loaf sexy.  I guess it doesn’t hurt to ask… you would do anything for love, but what, pray tell, is “that?”

The reason why this song found a spot at the X-List of horny music is that there’s something about the mad, dramatic rush of piano keys.  It’s perfect for karaoke, although there’s always that philosophical question of what’s the “that” in the song.  Is this one of those Brokeback Mountain things?

My favorite part: “Some days I pray for silence, and some days I pray for soul / Some days I just pray to the god of sex and drums and rock ‘n roll / Some nights I lose the feeling, and some nights I lose control / Some nights I just lose it all when I watch you dance and the thunder rolls!”  Give it to ‘em, Meat Loaf!

7.  Sisqo, “The Thong Song”

No list of horny musical tracks would be complete without a mention of the man called Sisqo.  We all laughed watching or even singing “The Thong Song,” especially if some white dude sings it.  Or we “sanitize” the wrong-sounding lyrics and (in the tradition of a classmate of mine back in high school) change it to “Let me sing that song… that song, so-so-song, song song.”

I don’t know what happened to Sisqo, and to be honest, I could care less.  Not that “The Thong Song” ever drove me horny (it drove me insane with laughter, I can tell you that), but it was nothing more than a shameless musical presentation of butts and thighs and a man with a really bad panty fetish.  Well, don’t we all?

My favorite part (save for Sisqo’s hair): “She had dumps like a truck / Truck, truck / Thighs like what / What, what / Baby move your butt, Butt, butt / I think i’ll sing it again…”  Uhh, no thanks.

6.  Peabo Bryson and Roberta Flack, “Tonight I Celebrate My Love”

If you’re a 1990s kid, you know that Peabo Bryson was the voice behind Disney soundtracks like “Beauty and the Beast” and “A Whole New World.”  How the man could be able to sing something so dirty, I don’t know.  My parents used to sing this song to each other, and while it sounds romantic, I can’t help but hurl.

While the song is unmistakably about sex oriented towards everlasting love, the horniness comes a posteriori, so to speak.  On many piano instrumental collections, you’re bound to listen to at least one iteration of this theme.  What I remember most is when this was used in Saturday Night Live in a skit featuring (I think) Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell.

My favorite part: “Tonight, I celebrate my love for you / And that midnight sun / Is gonna come shining through / Tonight, there’ll be no distance between us / What I want most to do / Is to get close to you / Tonight…”  Emphasis on “There’ll be no distance between us” part.

5.  The Spice Girls, “2 Become 1″

Horny; definition: Spice Girls.  If there’s any song made for mental porn, it definitely has to be “2 Become 1,” when you need some love like you never been in love before.  As much as any man will profess to hate Baby Spice, Sporty Spice, Posh Spice, Scary Spice, and Ginger Spice… well, we all know the many hits of Girl Power.

I should know: Spice Girls are a karaoke specialty of mine.  And I always had a crush on Victoria Beckham then.  Not now.  Video of “2 Become 1,” anyone?  The brain-dead-ness of Spice Girls songs is bordering on obvious, so much so that “2 Become 1″ is a 100% horny jam.  Although I have to say that as much as I “hate” the Spice Girls, this terrible headache of a song is not without its merits.

Which brings me to my favorite part: “Come on get a little bit wiser baby / Put it on, put it on / ‘Coz tonight / Is the night / When 2 become 1″ may be about condoms.  You go girl.

4.  Whitney Houston, “I Will Always Love You”

You have to wait for that heavy drum cue, that two-second pause, and then scream, “AND I… WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU!” to get the full effect of this epitome of wife-beating, cocaine abuse, and all around horniness.

The theme song of The Bodyguard may be relegated to the drunken parts of Friday karaoke sessions, but there’s something about the high-pitched dramatic falsetto that either has to come from the ovaries.  In the case of men singing this song, you just have to draw your pitch from the testicles.  It’s a sad break-up song, but hey, it can get horny.  Sexual Chocolate!

My favorite part: I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the high-pitched Falsetto of Death that makes you either cover your ears in agony, or strip naked.

3.  Paula Cole, “I Don’t Wanna Wait”

Nobody got horny watching Dawson’s Creek back in the day.  No, wait, nobody I know will confess to watching it.  I know I did; heck, I even watched Tabing Ilog. I think that it’s not Katie Holmes that was the absolute product of “Dosong Kriks,” but was that really horny-sounding opening track that, well, none of us want to remember.

In these days of random shrieks by Leona Lewis, Paula Cole did the exact opposite: avoid breathing all together.  I don’t know what’s horny about this song, but I’ve been told that some of my friends make love to this song.  So after some random research on sex, I kind of get it.  Granted that it is romantic, but there’s something about the vocalization (and less-than-satisfactory grammar) that makes it horny.

My favorite part: “I don’t want to wait / For our lives to be over I want to know right now / Will it be yes or will it be / Sorry.”  I kind of sounds like an indecent proposal more than a tragic love.

2.  Creed, “My Sacrifice”

The interpretation of a song has a lot to do with personal taste.  It’s like saying that Lifehouse is emo because of one song (well, they are).  “My Sacrifice” by Creed is one of them; you may think that it’s religious, you may suppose that it’s a song about sacrifices.  I think that it’s a song about masturbating.

I’m not saying this on the basis of lyrics; I hate semiotics.  I’m saying this on the basis of the voice and tooth-clenched singing of Scott Stapp.  You think about the onomatopoeic, animalistic grunting of a man stroking the staff of life, and you suppose that Scott Stapp’s singing is akin to that.  The lyrical kabastusan comes later.

Since I brought that up, my favorite part: “Hello my friend we meet again / It’s been a while, where should we begin / Feels like forever…”  It takes a perverted imagination, but yes, it can drive you into horniness when you just wanna say hello again.

1.  Ricky Martin, “Maria”

I think it makes sense: Ricky Martin = horny.  I think it has a lot to do with the gyrating, the use of Spanish, or that you just want to scream “Heppa!” at the mere mention of his signature horny hit, “Maria.”

I don’t understand Spanish, and to be honest, I don’t know what “Maria” is all about.  But the “Heppa!” ad lib has to take the cake; it’s either a demand for a doctor because of a hepatitis-caused seizure, or that you’re just mad about the idea that Ricky Martin gets all the babes even if there’s ongoing speculation - ten years running - that the guy is gay.  You can only imagine how to attract chicks with this song because you had one too many shots of tequila or Goldschlager at some swanky club somewhere in Makati or Malate.

My favorite part: well, it definitely has to be “Heppa!”

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So you see, there are a lot more important things to talk about than blog controversies.

Cubao is a place you either love to hate, or hate to love.

There are a lot of things I like about Cubao.  As much as I hate malls, I really like Gateway.  Cubao is also a great place to do ukay, provided you have the patience and a lot of haggling skills.  Being the transport hub of the Metropolis, you can get to any point in the NCR just by being at Cubao, provided you know train routes, bus routes, jeepney routes, and have enough courage to walk Aurora Boulevard alone.  Aurora is also home to great mami, if you’re too late or too lazy to head on over to Binondo.  On the other hand, I hate Cubao for having a place called “Session Road” that stinks to high heavens with the mingling odors of diesel, urine, and fish.  There’s no place in Cubao where you can whip out your cellphone with confidence.  And the fact that it’s a transport hub, which means that it can get crowded and rowdy at times.

In the 13 stations of the MRT, there are four choke-points.  North Avenue, being the first station, takes the passengers from the CAMANAVA area and Novaliches.  Cubao is a major choke-point because it is the main transport hub of Metro Manila.  Ayala Station is dead-center of the Makati CBD, so it can be chaotic at times.  Taft Avenue, being the last station, takes up the passengers of everyone coming from Pasay City and everyone else south of it.

For a regular MRT commuter, Cubao is akin to the allegories of Dante, the muckraking of Upton Sinclair, and the “Huh?” moments you get watching “The World’s Biggest Gang Bang.”  Most trains already get to full capacity when they depart from the first station at North Avenue, then load up at Quezon Avenue and GMA-Kamuning.  Cubao is where push comes to shove.

Morning south-bound routes tend to be a test of patience, and to a certain extent, common sense.  For example, if you ride the MRT every day, it makes no sense to buy single-journey tickets every day.  Or if you know that the train is already loaded up, you wouldn’t try to pack the commuters already inside the train just so that you can afford yourself an extra few inches of space.  Of course, there’s that other alternative: wake up early and catch the first train to wherever you’re working, and spare yourself the hassle of the crowd.  Although some friends of mine swear by the “quicker” commuting solution to get to Makati from Cubao: ride LRT-2 from Cubao to Recto, and board the LRT-2 from Doroteo Jose to Gil Puyat.  It kind of makes sense, but who would believe in the sensibility of riding two trains and get to your destination quickly, instead of waiting for 30 minutes for space at one train?

I find it inconvenient to board the MRT at night whenever I go home from work, because I’m not actually in a hurry.  Whenever I go home, I take the bus.  (The other alternative would be to ride a jeepney that plys the Ortigas-Libis-Cubao route, ride a jeep bound for Lagro at Cubao, stop at Philcoa, and take another ride to UP Campus.  It’s expensive and impractical, but it sure as hell is faster than a bus by five precious minutes.)  That itself is not without its disadvantages and consequences…

Air-conditioned buses may be a nice way to get somewhere in Metro Manila, but it can get expensive (not to mention overloaded).  The choke-point is, of course, my least-favorite mall in Manila: Farmer’s Plaza.  What makes this place so dangerous and so irritating for bus commutes is that queuing is optional; it’s all a matter of getting to a bus door.

The irritated commuters in Cubao generally are people who would overlook personal discipline and blame things on the more mundane non-problems of the bus system.  Every bus is bound to have a problem, not the least of which is the complaint of a man who shouted that there aren’t “enough” doors on the bus, that’s why they can’t board.  It’s hard to reason with old men; I think there are more legitimate, perfectly understandable reasons for the failings of the bus operators than bus design.

So what does this tell us?  I have absolutely no idea, knowing that all the hectoring and preaching about “discipline” and “order” only results to justifying a lack of it – or its absence, even – in terms of your standing in the economy, or the failings of those richer than you.  As much as I hate to admit it, the Filipino consciousness has been so corrupted with convenience, with being “first” “in” “a line,” and just about everything else.

It’s a lot like Cubao: you either love to hate the justification, or you hate to love it.