We are a warrior culture, prayer warriors, at any rate, judging from our Hail Mary play to save the three International Committee of the Red Cross volunteers kidnapped by the Abu Sayyaf: a call for prayers, and an appeal from the Pope.
And, really, there’s nothing wrong with that. God-fearing as we are, we will turn to God when all else fails. But what the real issue here is this: Why did all else fail?
If we’ve learned anything from this whole Chip Tsao incident, it’s that we Filipinos are quick to anger when the dignity of our nation is slighted. We have very thin skins when it comes to jokes at our expense, and we will not hesitate to meet racial slur with racial slur.
And that’s understandable, since racism, the rest of the world pretty much agrees, is wrong. Knowing that, however, does not stop us from insulting other nationalities, even when we’re not on the defensive.
We at Indolent Indio are not fond of explaining jokes, on the principle that if you have to explain, or even give some sort of cue that you’re joking, it isn’t funny.
But the amount of vitriol being sprayed around by people who were genuinely offended by Chip Tsao’s article perhaps merits this explanation from mystery commenter josephdent, pro-Chinese apologist and agent provocateur for the godless communists.
He writes:
My fellow Pinoys, Mr. Chip Tsao is defending Filipinos and Filipino maids and is actually ridiculing these so-called “Chinese patriotsâ€.
When Tessie Tomas pretends to be a rich matrona in “Abangan ang Susunod na Kabanata†and then says outrageous, ridiculous mata pobre things, Tessie Tomas is not really mata pobre, instead, she is exposing the mata pobre of the Filipino upper class. That is how this article works as well: satire. In the article, Mr. Tsao is pretending to be one of these Chinese patriots. He then proceeds to say outrageous, over-the-top, racist statements to show them that the viewpoints of his fellow Chinese citizens are in fact outrageous, over-the-top and racist!
Legend has it that God (and/or Bathala) created man out of clay, baking the prototypes in his oven just because he could. Not yet having the hang of his omnipotence, Bathala fucked up and burnt the first man, hence the African race. He fucked up again, probably drunk on fermented rice wine, being primarily a rice god, and created the Caucasians when the he took man out too early. Also the Chinese, when he messed up again before finally creating the perfect man, the brown man. And so it goes.
And if you believe that, then you were probably foaming at the mouth when Chinese columnist Chip Tsao played the racist card and called us a nation of servants. [UPDATE: HK Magazine has taken down the offending article. You may view it here. Thanks to joyfulchicken for the tip.]
And right then and there, all the trolls and armchair nationalists, who never even took ROTC, rose to the defense of Inang Bayan and tried to spam the guy with racist comments of their own.
Aside from teaching us to love our culture, Francis M. also taught us that waiting for someone to die before showing them your love is a pretty stupid way of doing things.
With spending power now in the hands of our generation, expect an upsurge in manufactured nostalgia for anything ’90s in coming months. If the Eraserheads proved anything with their recent Final Set reunion concert, we will willingly give up our left nut (or P3,000) for a chance to relive our youth.
Here are some bands to rediscover before every Facebook user claims to love them the most.
This morning saw designer Boyet Fajardo–of the Boyet Fajardo Church of Boyet Fajardo–being defended on TV by his spokesman Ricky Ricardo (or whatever) for the tongue lashing he subjected employees of the Duty Free Philippine Fiesta Mall to for asking him for an ID to validate his credit card purchases.
He said that Fajardo’s alleged “creative outburst” might have been misinterpreted by the Duty Free staff. Perhaps when Fajardo said,” Mga leche kayo! Hindi niyo ako kilala? Ako si Boyet Fajardo!,” he was only greeting them good morning in his own fabulously gay and creative way.
Once a year, the school dentist and a representative from some toothpaste company, probably Colgate (as are they all, all Colgate,) made the rounds of the classrooms on their zero tooth decay campaign.
They gave lectures on proper brushing (i.e. do it) and handed out free toothbrushes and little tubes of single-use toothpaste that ended up in the bottom of bags and hardened into little tubular rocks.
That was all par for the course in eliminating tooth decay, and was a welcome respite from the rigors of, say, learning the major exports of Philippine provinces (copra and abaca, generally.)
What was scarring about the whole thing was the part where kids were made to let bitter-tasting pink tablets melt in their mouths. The tablets would supposedly mark plaque buildup and, incidentally, rape your taste buds.
Francis M., dead at 44, was the Fresh Prince of Filipino hip hop, not so much in that he was a ghetto boy who lived with rich relatives or whatever, but in that he gave us our first taste of hip hop. He was the face of Filipino hip hop, adolescent and slightly awkward as it was.
It takes balls to wear overalls