So You’re De-Evolving

Do you find that your facial hair is starting to spread past your face? Are your knuckles a few inches closer to the ground than normal? Do you feel like you’re spending more and more time climbing trees and throwing feces at your friends?

Well these are the classic signs of what is known as De-Evolving. Don’t be afraid, a lot of people have gone through this phenomenon, and they are now settling fine in their respective zoos.

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Rejected Filipino Dubs for Grey’s Anatomy

Originally published for The Man Blog

Also see:

Rejected Dub 1:

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I wanna stop being stupid!

I’m pretty sure I speak on everyone’s behalf when I say that anyone can get through life without even an iota of intelligence in them. Seriously, who needs intelligence? I mean no one even likes smart people anyway. Stephen Hawking? Sure he can talk about theoretical physics all he wants, but let’s see him take on Yao Ming one on one down in the paint? Who’d be getting the chicks after that? Certainly not Mr. Wheelchairio Crippolio PhD.

I don’t know, maybe it’s just me being bitter. As far back as preschool, I recall having felt intense feelings of anger and spite towards classmates who get A’s or B’s on their tests, while I received less than satisfactory grades made up of D’s and F’s.

Now while this is amusing in retrospect, I couldn’t really appreciate the D’s and the F’s my teachers gave me as they almost always meant severe spanking after class from the other members of the faculty.

Things stayed pretty much the same as I got older; only instead of D’s and F’s, the teachers wrote “5’s” on my class cards, obviously too disappointed in me to even write letters to represent my grades.

It was then when I realized that being a person of dismal intelligence is a sure way of getting kicked down a spiral staircase of failure by life. I mean, everything from tying my shoelaces to taking apart an automotive engine requires at least some sort of intelligence way beyond my reach.

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How to resist raping little kids

This article was originally written for The Man Blog.

Because I am a big fan of rape–especially the rape of little kids, I will be tackling the very sensitive topic of child abuse today. Be warned that this can be a very funny or awkward thing to read depending on whether or not, like me, you were forced by a hairy uncle named Edgar to play “popsicle time” with him when you were a kid.

But face it, sooner or later, we will have to deal with this issue. Our silence and apathy in the past only led to this problem to grow like Ade Magnaye at a McDonald’s with a stack of McChicken discount coupons.

Anyway, this article might strike a nerve as some of you may have been molested when you were kids or maybe even recently, when you passed out at a comfort room inside a Kamayan restaurant. So yeah, I fully understand if you’d rather not read this post. Besides, we don’t need your sort anyway you fucking pussy; seducing older men like myself into betraying our better moral judgment and touching you in your fun zones.

Contrary to popular belief, child molestation is not a prevalent problem because of the aberrant, depraved, and perverted members of society; It’s actually because of the provocative manner the fashion industry is dressing up our children and the way these soft-skinned, sensual kids conduct themselves in public.

Today, we look at how we can fight the urge to kidnap little kids off a school yard and rape them in our vans with a hand-painted picture of Dakota Fanning playing with Rainbow Brite painted on one of its walls.

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Taste Asia 2: Twice the inebriation, Twice the lust

The fact that “Mike Villar”, “Buffet” and “Free Beer” do not sit well has been well documented in the annals of this blog. I’m serious. So serious in fact, It’s not even funny. I mean it’s the same every time– I attend one of these events and I can’t believe that the food and alcohol is free, so I end up consuming the aforementioned items in an exorbitant fashion.

I could go ahead and say that being in an event with a buffet and free beer is like me being a kid in a candy shop but even that is an inaccurate metaphor being that a kid, no matter how much he’s into candy, does not need it to make him feel happy and generally sexually aggressive. I think “Like a pothead in a marijuana field” works better, except that I already signed an addendum to my contract prohibiting me from writing about marijuana, cocaine, midget prostitutes or any of my other vices for that matter. So no, let’s not go there.

So you could only imagine my inhibition when Riz told me that there’s going to be a second blogger meet up at Taste Asia. But since, I have no real friends and hence nothing better to do on a Thursday night, I decided to go ahead with the TMB crew and just see what happens.

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