prologue: an old man in a red coat stands by his window looking at the arctic landscape. "the arctic winters have gotten warmer", thought the old man. he was convinced that he could go out without his coat and not even get frostbite. "signs of the times", says the old man to himself, "signs of the times". a beep reaches his ears. "finally, the message i've been waiting for." the old man goes to his computer. click.
************************************
to: secret agent nikolay code name santa claus, operation christmas headquarters, north pole
from: kgb high command, kgb central headquarters, the kremlin, moscow
TOP SECRET. FOR YOUR EYES ONLY.
we are now in the final stages of our plan for world domination. high command commends you, comrade nikolay, on the progress of your mission. the mind control devices you have planted in your toys are now being monitored by central headquarters. based on our satellite scans, your delivery method using reindeer powered sleigh has thus far proven effective, as the devices have already spread in all corners of the world. it has also successfully penetrated the specified strategic points, like the white house, UN headquarters, and the homes of other important world leaders. come christmas eve, we will activate these devices and turn the children of the world into zombies who will carry out our commands. this new zombie army will turn against their parents, who will be forced to submit to their children's wishes, and we will rule the world! bwahahahaha!
in line with our master plan, high command wishes to give you your new orders:
** on dec 24 at exactly 2255 hours GMT +12:00, we will commence with the final phase of operation christmas. you will form your reindeer delivery squad, and at exactly 2300 hours GMT +12:00 you will launch from your hidden base in the north pole and begin delivery of the toys planted with the trigerring module for the mind control devices already in place. you will begin delivering to the first timezone that will hit dec 25 (GMT +12:00) and after completion of delivery in that timezone you will continue on to succeeding timezones. as the planet turns in its axis, our satellites will position themselves on the timezone that will be hitting dec 25 and send a signal to the trigerring module, which in turn will activate the mind control device, and voila, instant world domination. while the world parties, it shall fall into our hands timezone by timezone. bwahahahaha!
** kgb spies in the cia have reported the presence of a double agent in your ranks, as american intelligence agents at langley seem to have recently caught on to our scheme. high command orders you to identify this spy and eliminate him immediately! initial investigation have so far placed our suspicions on the commander of your delivery squad, major rudolph, as his nose may possibly be used as a beacon for cia satellites to monitor your progress. our investigation also indicated that he may also have accomplices among the elves in your research and development team. you must root them out and teach them what it means to be on your "naughty" list.
** based on initial tests of our mind control devices, our philippine operations is facing some setbacks. filipino children are currently being brain washed by a tune used in the popular noontime show "wowowee". the tune's sequence goes: boom-ta-rat-ta-rat! boom-ta-rat-ta-rat! ta-ra-rat! ta-ra-rat! boom! boom! boom! this may sound quite benign when you first hear it, but our scientists have discovered that the said tune is interfering with the frequency we are using to control the children's brain waves. intelligence reports have pointed to an alias "willie revillame", who is known to be the mastermind behind "wowowee". the said noontime show has already begun systematic enslavement of whole sections of the philippine populace. even seemingly respectable old women are selling their dignity for a thousand pesos and a chance to be shown on national TV. you must understand, comrade nikolay, that alias "willie revillame" CANNOT be underestimated. our whole operation will fail if the cia discovers this flaw in our grand plan. alias "willie revillame" must be stopped!
** once we take over the world, we are going to need puppet administrators that will assist us in directing world affairs. recent news has pointed out a suitable source of candidates: philippine congressmen. it was discovered that their brains waves can easily be manipulated by simple illusions of money and power. thus, with this in mind, our scientists have designed a new mind control device especially for them. we will be sending you a list of candidates for delivery of the device, and you will implement delivery of this new device together with the trigerring module.
high command cannot over emphasize the fact: FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION. the motherland has long awaited to take over the world and finally exact its revenge on america. if our plan succeeds, the americans will finally learn what it means to be enslaved. america will finally learn what it means to do the bidding of the world's new, and only, superpower! america will learn what it feels to have airplanes bomb their cities and tanks crash through their streets! america will learn what it feels to have foreign soldiers raping their own women! vengeance is sweet! bwahahahahaha!
and most importantly, remember this comrade nikolay: the motherland owes you deeply and will never forget you in your endeavors. if all goes well, as a reward we will change the meaning of christmas day. every year for the next thousand years, christmas day will no longer be about the child who was born in a manger, it will be to celebrate the exploits of st. nikolay a.k.a. santa claus! children of the next thousand generations will be singing praises to your name! images of you driving your reindeer powered sleigh or you climbing in chimneys to deliver your "gifts" will be placed in every room in every house in every nation in the whole wide world! in their eyes, you will be a god!
but of course, we communists don't believe in god. bwahahahaha!
long live the revolution!
KGB HIGH COMMAND
P.S. delete message after reading or your computer will explode in 5 seconds.
************************************
epilogue: fortunately for the world (or unfortunately, which ever side of the fence you stand), st. nikolay had been negligent and never read the last sentence of the message from kgb high command. 5 seconds later, cia satellites detect a huge and powerful explosion in the north pole. operation christmas's secret base was destroyed. the explosion also killed major rudolph and his reindeer squad and all the elves. but st. nikolay's body was never found. kgb high command's plan was never carried out. the world is safe... for now. but is it really?
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
sabado nights
this was about 3 saturdays ago
#################################################
a generic saturday evening in my neighborhood would involve the following: a few houses away to the left, a murder... no, a massacre is being committed against supposedly popular songs, facilitated in no small part by that evil evil invention: the portable videoke machine. meanwhile, a few meters away in the opposite direction, another house is blasting the night with loud and irritating 80's disco music (with the purpose of driving away evil spirits like we do every new year's eve, i suppose?). and right in front of our house, members of the beer belly club gather for their weekly booze sessions, drinking themselves silly like they had a strong death wish (their motto being: eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die), and as a result causing a racket not unlike what you would hear from a pack of squabbling dogs.
imagine the pain of having to hear "brother louie" playing over and over again in an infinite loop, combined with a rendition of "my way" so horrible that it would make frank sinatra rise from the grave to seek justice by strangling the singer. enduring these torments every weekend may be enough to qualify me for sainthood. that would make me saint kenneth, patron saint of those who suffer from uncivilized neighbors.
but this was not your usual saturday evening. no songs were being massacred. no 80's disco music to wreak havoc upon the night. and the beer belly club was mercifully absent (i hope their wives, or their livers, are telling them to slow things down). it was that rare and pleasant saturday evening, the general peace and quiet allowing me to catch up on my backlog of books. but as to how unusual it would actually be, i had not realized yet.
sir francis drake was about to finish up his attack against a contingent of the spanish armada that was anchored in cadiz when i hear gasps of alarm from the next door neighbor's house. curiosity had gotten the better of me, so sir francis drake took a break for a while. i put my book down and listened. then the word i had always dreaded reached my ears: sunog (fire).
the combination of iced coffee and panic gave me palpitations. i jumped out of my seat, ran out of the room, and looked through the windows on each side of the house. a terrible light brightened the sky north of us. the fire was huge and looked dangerously near. i alerted everyone in the house.
there's nothing like a common threat to galvanize a whole community to action, even though you annoy each other's guts. my mom and my aunt ran outside to gather any news they could get about the fire. calls were made to the local fire department. updates as to the location and status of the fire was broadcast around the neighborhood. and just in case, everybody started filling up all available buckets and containers with water. in that moment of great danger, everyone had suddenly become comrades. how pinoy.
meanwhile, we switched the radio to the AM band and searched for any station reporting the incident. sure enough, an evening news program caught wind of the fire and a reporter was already on site giving a blow by blow account. according to the report, the fire was at a factory just 3 or 4 blocks away. the city's firetrucks were having a hard time getting to it because the street leading to the factory was too tight. right. so what else is new?
the reporter began doing interviews with the factory's security guard and onlookers in the area. by the sound of the it, the security guard, the onlookers and even the reporter himself seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. why... those crabs! just wait till it's YOUR house...
in the face of oncoming catastrophe, i started evaluating my dependence on my possessions. i looked at my books, my pc, my collection of music cds, dvds, toys and gadgets... would i be able to live without all these? i had begun to resign myself to a future without them. i think it was dostoevski who wrote that man is a being who can get used to anything. guess i'll have to get used to losing my stuff.
then the irony of it struck me. how strange it is for us to spend a huge chunk of what little time we have allotted on this earth to accumulate all our possessions, and yet the moment we lose them by circumstances cruel yet indifferent, then will those possessions ultimately bring us nothing but pain. we slave away at our tiny office cubicles to accumulate all this but in the face of our common destiny, it wouldn't matter. we won't be able to bring them with us anyway.
don't be mistaken. i do not advocate a return to the stone age. i just find it oddly poetic that it has to take something catastrophic like a fire or a flood or the specter of imminent death to jar our senses and get our priorities straight. things that we consider bad sometimes do serve a purpose. it's up to us to figure out how to turn it to our advantage.
yet what makes things tragic is when the going gets back to being good, we take advantage of the luxury by turning priorities back to our diverse frivolities. just when we see the light, just when we learn something profound and supposedly life changing, then we forget. we never seem to learn. funny thing this, human nature.
our radio reporter finally comes back on air with an update. a firewall was now blocking the spread of the fire. we were spared! waves of relief wash over me. looks like we won't have to go back to the stone age after all. things begin quieting down in the neighborhood. everybody seems to have lost interest in the fire after hearing the good news. we were all back to minding our own business. so continues the story of sir francis drake and the spanish armada...
and that is how i spent my saturday evening.
but wait... what's that i hear? oh crap, they're singing again. like nero playing the lute while the rest of rome burned to the ground.
#################################################
a generic saturday evening in my neighborhood would involve the following: a few houses away to the left, a murder... no, a massacre is being committed against supposedly popular songs, facilitated in no small part by that evil evil invention: the portable videoke machine. meanwhile, a few meters away in the opposite direction, another house is blasting the night with loud and irritating 80's disco music (with the purpose of driving away evil spirits like we do every new year's eve, i suppose?). and right in front of our house, members of the beer belly club gather for their weekly booze sessions, drinking themselves silly like they had a strong death wish (their motto being: eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die), and as a result causing a racket not unlike what you would hear from a pack of squabbling dogs.
imagine the pain of having to hear "brother louie" playing over and over again in an infinite loop, combined with a rendition of "my way" so horrible that it would make frank sinatra rise from the grave to seek justice by strangling the singer. enduring these torments every weekend may be enough to qualify me for sainthood. that would make me saint kenneth, patron saint of those who suffer from uncivilized neighbors.
but this was not your usual saturday evening. no songs were being massacred. no 80's disco music to wreak havoc upon the night. and the beer belly club was mercifully absent (i hope their wives, or their livers, are telling them to slow things down). it was that rare and pleasant saturday evening, the general peace and quiet allowing me to catch up on my backlog of books. but as to how unusual it would actually be, i had not realized yet.
sir francis drake was about to finish up his attack against a contingent of the spanish armada that was anchored in cadiz when i hear gasps of alarm from the next door neighbor's house. curiosity had gotten the better of me, so sir francis drake took a break for a while. i put my book down and listened. then the word i had always dreaded reached my ears: sunog (fire).
the combination of iced coffee and panic gave me palpitations. i jumped out of my seat, ran out of the room, and looked through the windows on each side of the house. a terrible light brightened the sky north of us. the fire was huge and looked dangerously near. i alerted everyone in the house.
there's nothing like a common threat to galvanize a whole community to action, even though you annoy each other's guts. my mom and my aunt ran outside to gather any news they could get about the fire. calls were made to the local fire department. updates as to the location and status of the fire was broadcast around the neighborhood. and just in case, everybody started filling up all available buckets and containers with water. in that moment of great danger, everyone had suddenly become comrades. how pinoy.
meanwhile, we switched the radio to the AM band and searched for any station reporting the incident. sure enough, an evening news program caught wind of the fire and a reporter was already on site giving a blow by blow account. according to the report, the fire was at a factory just 3 or 4 blocks away. the city's firetrucks were having a hard time getting to it because the street leading to the factory was too tight. right. so what else is new?
the reporter began doing interviews with the factory's security guard and onlookers in the area. by the sound of the it, the security guard, the onlookers and even the reporter himself seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. why... those crabs! just wait till it's YOUR house...
in the face of oncoming catastrophe, i started evaluating my dependence on my possessions. i looked at my books, my pc, my collection of music cds, dvds, toys and gadgets... would i be able to live without all these? i had begun to resign myself to a future without them. i think it was dostoevski who wrote that man is a being who can get used to anything. guess i'll have to get used to losing my stuff.
then the irony of it struck me. how strange it is for us to spend a huge chunk of what little time we have allotted on this earth to accumulate all our possessions, and yet the moment we lose them by circumstances cruel yet indifferent, then will those possessions ultimately bring us nothing but pain. we slave away at our tiny office cubicles to accumulate all this but in the face of our common destiny, it wouldn't matter. we won't be able to bring them with us anyway.
don't be mistaken. i do not advocate a return to the stone age. i just find it oddly poetic that it has to take something catastrophic like a fire or a flood or the specter of imminent death to jar our senses and get our priorities straight. things that we consider bad sometimes do serve a purpose. it's up to us to figure out how to turn it to our advantage.
yet what makes things tragic is when the going gets back to being good, we take advantage of the luxury by turning priorities back to our diverse frivolities. just when we see the light, just when we learn something profound and supposedly life changing, then we forget. we never seem to learn. funny thing this, human nature.
our radio reporter finally comes back on air with an update. a firewall was now blocking the spread of the fire. we were spared! waves of relief wash over me. looks like we won't have to go back to the stone age after all. things begin quieting down in the neighborhood. everybody seems to have lost interest in the fire after hearing the good news. we were all back to minding our own business. so continues the story of sir francis drake and the spanish armada...
and that is how i spent my saturday evening.
but wait... what's that i hear? oh crap, they're singing again. like nero playing the lute while the rest of rome burned to the ground.
Monday, December 04, 2006
capuccino for free!
back on the subject of unique and unusual names. at work, i have an officemate named freedom (her parents must be activists of some sort) and someone in another department named life. disclaimer: i have no intention of poking fun at both of you guys, nor do i consider you lower beings simply on the account of your given names, for given names maketh not a man. but think about the implications: what if they ordered coffee at starbucks or pizza at yellow cab? in ms. freedom's case, people call her "free", so when the the counter at starbucks announces the arrival of her order they'd be shouting: "capuccino for free!". in mr. life's case, if he makes an order at yellow cab, they'd be announcing: "pizza for life!". imagine how that sounds: free coffee and a life time supply of pizza! a stampede would ensue upon announcement, for sure. everybody would be rushing to the counter...
...but on second thought, at least their parents hadn't named them death and slavery...
...but on second thought, at least their parents hadn't named them death and slavery...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
