UP Virtual ethnography: A different look

Some informative shit from our UP Virtual Ethnography class

Funny Image of the Week

"So you like it hard?"
"Gary! Not in front of these people!"

Manly sports, very gay moments

This Week in Philippine Rap: Nagmahal ako ng Bakla

While looking for a possible important event or person to mock and piss off, I stumbled upon an interesting channel in You Tube that features homemade music videos made by Filipino Rappers (Or as I call them, Out of School Youth). I could not stop from laughing at songs that truly lacked creativity and sense so much that it should belong to a new genre, namely Comedy Music. But I must say that I am impressed with their efforts to come up with a decent song I still have one message for them: Go to School!!

Don't take me wrong, I don't hate Filipino Rap. In fact, I grew up listening to rap myself. Francis M. was my hero and I memorized Can't Touch This by MC Hammer like they were my country's national anthem. It just sucks that a lot of kids nowadays think that the secret to create a good song is to focus your effort in creating a bad and mean gangster image who grew up in the mean streets of Tondo. One word of advice kids, Vanilla Ice did not win any Grammy!

So if I were to enter the minds of these street loving rascals I'd be able to hypothesize their song writing process.

Rapper 1: "Yo tol! alam mo yung Careless Whisper?"
Rapper 2: " Oo tol, laki ng boobs ni Katrina Halili e!"
Rapper 1: "Bilis kunin natin yung Chorus may naisip akong magandang i-rap dun!"
Rapper 2: "Sige ba! dapat may tungkol sa iniwan ako ng babae tapos away ng gang tapos paggamit ng rugby!"

Verse 1:

Putang ina ng mga babaeng nangiiwan
Sarap basagin ng mga ulo magrugby na lang tayo
ang hirap ng buhay dito sa kalye sa tondo
baka magripuhan ka lang nga mga sisiga-siga dito!

Chorus:

I'm never gonna dance again
guilty feet have got no rhythm
Though it's easy to pretend
I know You're not a fool (Stupid)


So you need a good chorus from some known song, put in lyrics about girls, violence, gangs and drug use and rap like a freaking announcer in a horse race track! That's basically it! Post it in youtube and wait for people to insult it.

So this song that really caught my attention is not really different from the rest. I just found it to be funny and appreciate the effort put in by the songwriters to inject humor and sarcasm in the lyrics. But still, the song's worth nothing but shit and only succeeds in degrading the gay community. So though the lyrics are funny, funny is not the only thing a song needs to be seen as an art.

So my conclusion, until another Francis Magalona appears to save Philippine rap I see a Filipino rap scene full of wannabe-gangsters, malnourished children, poor lyrics and uncreative music. So while I rant about how this ruined my day maybe listening to it would put a smile on your face. I could say that this is so bad it became funny as hell.

The Long Wait

“Don't worry, be happy..” kept resonating in my head. I kept playing Bobby McFerrin's cool and soothing voice paired with an infectious reggae beat that would make anyone tap his feet and bob his head to the tempo. Yet, these sounds coming out of my IPOD were not enough to quiet the different voices arguing in my mind.

The clock makes a funny sound similar to that of a Nokia ring tone. I look up and see that it is already midnight. I've been sitting here for only a couple of hours yet it seems that I have been waiting here for a week. They couldn't tell me anything yet. They do not know what is wrong with her. The doctor told me that the only thing that they could do for now was wait. He suggests that I do the same. I tried to, but God I hate waiting.

The room was bitterly cold, freezing even. My thick black sweater proved of little help in keeping me warm in this place that emits an extra chill that makes my right leg tremble. I am badly in need of a cigarette but somehow something is keeping me from stepping out of the room. My legs feel weak and numb and my hands refuse to stop shaking. My whole body is literally paralyzed and frozen.

I am seated on the end of a long and rusty dark-green bench which is lined up in front of the wall. In front of me lay dozens of light blue plastic chairs lined into rows where a few people are sitting. On the farthest end of the back row was an old lady holding a rosary in her hand. Her head was bowed and her face was partially covered by her long silver hair. She appears to be reciting some kind of prayer and whispering some inaudible words. A few seats to her right sits a young man who appears to be in his twenties. His right arm is in a sling and a few scratches can be seen across his face. Maybe he was involved in some kind of accident. I would like to know but now is not the right time to start a conversation with anyone here. It is too quiet, and this can be understandable. Directly in front of the rows of chairs stands a big flat screen television showing a movie about a car accident. I try my best not to glance at it. I do not want thoughts about anything that might be possible polluting my mind . It was torture.

Across the white-tiled and brightly lit room stands a cubicle where a sleepy and tired nurse is stationed. She sits beside a red telephone which rings every four or five minutes. The nurse who dons an all white suit appears to be weary and pale. I wouldn't blame her. Being in this room for a long time can make anyone look pale, tired and even dead. Dead is not a good word but it surely captures the moment I am in. Every person in this room looks cold and lifeless. They are stationary and anxious. But somehow the room produces an aura of a certain calm and quiet. Yes it is peaceful, in contrast to the emergency room just behind the door at the farthest end of the room which appears to be a place of constant noise and movement. But this is not a comfortable kind of peace. It is a kind of peace which is felt in the middle of a cemetery. This is not the peace I want.

As I listen to Bobby McFerrin rant about how good life is, a figure clad in white steps out from the double door on the farthest end of the room. A tall, middle-aged man donning a white gown and wearing light yellow rubber surgical gloves emerges from the chaos of what we know as the emergency room. He strides slowly across the still room and heads towards me. He is calm and expressionless. His thick framed glasses reflect the light produced by the blinding fluorescent lamps which makes him appear mysterious, scary to be precise. He stops in front of where I am seated and looks at me. I look him at the eyes and notice the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. I find it peculiar that the man standing in front of me feels hot and is sweating while I am covered in thick clothing almost freezing to death. The doctor bows his head down and sits beside me. He puts his left hand on my right shoulder and says nothing. My knees suddenly feel weak and tears start forming at the corners of my eyes. All of the sudden the room is noisy. It is dark and crowded. I can hear a lot of angry people screaming, some out of grief, others of pain and most out of fear. I increase the volume of my player and try to drown out the noise. It keeps on repeating the words which I grew to hate.

“Don't worry, be happy...”, the song continues to play.

Funny Video of the Week: Star Wars Kid

All Hail The Chosen One. May the force be with him!

This kid needs to get laid. fast!

Mocking Famous People: Jose Rizal, Father of the Emo Movement

Adios Patria Adorada

Surely everyone (I hope) knows the man engraved on the front side of a one peso coin. We've all seen him in Luneta basking under the hot afternoon sun watching over lovers too cheap to rent a room at a sleazy motel. We associate his name with hundreds of streets around the world and have a whole province dedicated to his memorial. We have all read his timeless novels, poems and recognize him as our own national hero. He is a god to some, a hero to many and an inspiration to all. He is the infamous Dr. Jose Rizal who shed his own blood to awaken the sleeping hearts and minds of the oppressed Filipinos and ignite the Philippine Revolution.

We all called him a great hero, a notorious ladies man and an eloquent speaker. He is the symbol of education, refinement and nobility. His name is equivalent to intelligence, patriotism and bravery. But little do we know that Jose Rizal is the founder of the Emo Subculture in the Philippines.

Yes, you heard me right. Our own national hero would listen to Chicosci today if he were alive and would sport tight-fitting shirts and jeans printed with logos of My Chemical Romance and The Used. He would wear eyeliners and black nail polish and occasionally slash his arms and wrists.

Here are the few reasons why I consider Jose Rizal as the Father of Philippine Emo:

1. What's With the One Sided Hair?






All pictures of Rizal showed him sporting a one sided hairstyle. God knows how much pomade he uses to maintain the shiny well-combed hair angling to one side as he walked through the windy alleys of Europe. He truly was the first one to make emo very fashionable.




2. Hero in black







Sure, we could say this is because coats were black. During that time men also wore brown and dark blue coats. Jose Rizal favored black more which is also favored by present day emos. This gave him that dark, mysterious and lonely aura that is typical from any emo kid.

3.Meetings at night



Rizal and his posse all met during the wee hours of the night. This was because what they talked about and discussed were banned and illegal. Similarly emos today prefer to meet at night for that is the only time they are able to justify their thick dark jackets and be able to freely talk without being ridiculed.

4. Oh, the Sad Sad Poetry

"One Only dies once, and if one does not die well, a good opportunity is lost and will not present itself again" - Jose Rizal



"At the end of the world Or the last thing I see You are Never coming home Never coming home Could I? Should I? And all the things that you never ever told me And all the smiles that are ever ever... Ever..."
- My Chemical Romance


Rizal has numerous poems credited under his name. A few talked about the patriotic stuff but the bulk tackled loneliness, grief, death, hopelessness and farewells. Play any My Chemical Romance song and you would see all these themes present as if Jose Rizal was a member of the 5 piece punk band.

And lastly..

5. Suicide, A willingness to give up your life.





It is debatable whether Rizal really accepted his faith wholeheartedly or regret all his choices but one thing is certain: this is what lingers in the minds of most emo people. Death, Suicide and self-hurt are the key elements of an emo personality. Rizal sure proved how emo he was when he stood lamenting his fate but resigned everything to destiny. He wrote a sad farewell letter (most emo people do) and finally got the deed done (with the help of Filipino and Spanish sharshooters).



So I might get bashed because of this article but I think its fun to reexamine key historical figures once in a while. Rizal was a hero certainly but for me Rizal is the ultimate emo kid who just happened to be born far ahead before Chicosci's Vampire Social Club debuted at MYX.

Pass The Hat: A Tribute to the King of Pop

Michael Jackson will always be the king of pop and an will be remembered as an immortal pop icon. His music became the soundtracks of generations and his image is known from both poles of the eart. This simple video made by our You Tube Team of The UP Virtual Ethnography class 2009 aims to spread the message of change and continue MJ's vision of a united and better world. Sing and Dance with the various members of the UP Diliman Community as we all pay homage to the late genius that aimed to change to world through his music.

Enjoy!!