The Glory that was the UP Diliman Faculty Center

It was around 9:30 AM today when I first came across the news about the fire that razed the UP Diliman Faculty Center early this morning. Got the news via a former professor of mine who happens to be one of the affected faculty members.

My heart sank as I looked at pictures of the raging blaze eating through the iconic FC.

From Facebook user, Ken Wu

From Rappler

My former Anthropology professor, Felipe Jocano Jr., who is among the faculty members affected by the FC fire, made this statement on Facebook while the fire was still raging:

"This morning at around 1:40, I received two text messages from my students, telling me that the Faculty Center, our office building, and my other home for thirty years, was on fire. I dressed and went over to check on what was happening. By the time I arrived, the firetrucks were surrounding the building, and all their crews were busy fighting the fire.

Our Department offices are gone, and so are books, manuscripts, papers, records, certificates, computers and all other material markers of our lives as academics.

But even if these are gone, we will carry on. We will continue. We will serve our community and the people."

He later shared pictures of what remains of the FC after it was officially declared fire out:

A firefighter walks away from the charred facade of the
FC.

A clearer view of the soot covering the second and
third floor outer walls of the FC.

This area -- the main entrance to the FC -- used to be bustling
with activity. Now, it lies desolate.

Forgive me, I don't remember the name of this sculpture
in front of the FC. The charred walls behind it provide a
stark reminder of fiery events several hours earlier.

The UP Diliman Faculty Center was a central hub of activity for everyone who passed the hallowed halls of the said university unit. Almost all professors teaching GE subjects were housed here, and the walls of this great building were witness to the triumphs, tears, happiness, and anger of both UP faculty and students.

On a more personal note, the FC is where I was forced to take my removal exams in Communication 1. This is where I whooped for joy when I saw that I was exempted from taking exams in several other GE subjects. This is where we would visit our respective profs' rooms for consultation and for our final grades. This is where I literally grovelled in front of Sir Jocano just so he would accept me as his student in his higher Anthro classes. (I was desperate -- I was about to graduate, and I needed one last elective to complete all the requirements in my TOR.)

Almost every UP Diliman student and alumni has a story to tell about the FC.

And now, the edifice of our college memories is a charred shell of what it used to be.

Moreover, we now see many professors displaced by the incident. While temporary quarters have already been identified for them (The new Chemistry pavilions in nearby Palma Hall), what can no longer be replaced are their records, research materials, and archives of collections and art that were destroyed in the fire.

Now is probably the time for us UP Diliman alumni to give back to our roots and find out how we can help our former professors, as well as the new ones who are just as affected by this unforeseen circumstance. They have helped us in becoming the professionals we are today, now it's our turn to help them in any way we can.

We can probably start by sending our former professors our copies of theses and research articles that we made from our college days so we can help in rebuilding their repository of data.

For the artists among us, we can give them new artworks; for the writers, approved essays, journals, published articles, etc.

Let us unite in creating a newer and better FC.

The Bulwagang Rizal (FC) shall rise again. (From Inquirer.net)

(#)

Help! I've been Robbed!

The advent of social media has seen more interactivity, making communication and information dissemination among people within the global community easier and faster by a hundredfold. When before through mainstream media, we only get hold of information as told to us by a reporter or by leafing through the pages of a newspaper, now we get our choice of information in real time through Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and the like. As an added bonus, we even get to react to that particular event.

Social media has also brought people closer, albeit virtually, even when geographical distance puts them apart. A good example of this is my Facebook chat group which is aptly named Steel Bogambilyas (Bougainvilleas), not to be confused with the Hash Tag Titas of Manila -- although we sometimes have similar dramas, hahaha. This group is composed of me and four other women, all alumni of Dr. Alejandro Albert Elementary School in Sampaloc, Manila. Three of us are based here in Manila, one is in the US, and another is in Ireland. Time zones are not a problem as anyone among us can just leave a note to be deliberated or commented on by the rest later. We have actually defeated the challenge of distance and we remain friends after 40+ years. (Oops, carbon-dating myself.)

However, there is also a dark side to social media, and it's getting more sinister by the minute. It is the playground of serial killers, rapists, child molesters, pedophiles, trolls, bullies, and other lowlife characters.

Now, it's also a breeding ground for plagiarists.

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Several months ago, a former colleague of mine from my newspaper days told me to block this person from my Facebook account -- a certain Mildred Gay Manaug. It seems that this person has been copying some of his Facebook posts, and has also started to copy mine. That time, I didn't take his warning seriously, primarily because I think I was furiously trying to beat a deadline for one of my online writing assignments and didn't have time to check.

Fast forward to yesterday and he asked me again if I already blocked this Mildred Gay Manaug from my account. (Obciously, he already knew the answer to that.) Turns out that she has been vigorously copying several of my posts in the past few days -- even the shallow reposts. I finally got to check her out and lo and behold -- she had at least two of my most recent posts on her wall, WITH NO ATTRIBUTION WHATSOEVER!

It's funny that of the two posts she copied from my wall, one of them had a personal context that only those closest to me may understand: 

My original Facebook post from yesterday. Do take note of the number of hours since it was posted - 5 hours ago.

I almost fell off my seat when I saw the exact same words -- hash tag included -- on this Manaug character's wall:

Exact same photocopy -- with hash tag!

A former student of mine also checked her wall out to find even more "photocopies" of my posts on her wall. It's amazing what she did with my two posts on Leni Robredo. These are my original posts. Once again, do take note of the dates and time lapses:

Then take a look at her own "styling." This is from my former student's mobile phone:

As soon as I saw her glaring transgressions, I moved at once to curtail this intellectual property bandit. I sent her a very strongly-worded private message then proceeded to block her from ever seeing my wall again. However, I thought to myself that maybe blocking isn't enough because even if she stops copying from me, she would still copy from others. Thius, I unblocked her and proceeded to report her to the Facebook admin.

This is where the sticky part started. There is a Report button in the drop-down list pertaining to privacy settings, but the choices as to why I was reporting another Facebook user were very limited. She wasn't using abusive content. She wasn't posting offensive material. But SHE JUST STOLE MY WORDS, and it wasn't in the selection to be ticked off!

There was a link on intellectual copyright, though so I clicked on it. Then Facebook warned me immediately that to do so is very tedious -- and I didn't need tedious! She could change her settings before I could make the final report, and by then, she could be untraceable already.

So I ditched the idea of reporting this Manaug character to Facebook and instead, made screenshots and posted these in my wall with the screaming heading, PLAGIARIST!!!

And since Facebook also doesn't allow me to reblock this person immediately after I unblocked her, I still need another two days before I can block her again. Pffffft!

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While I was making that strongly-worded private message, the chat box showed commonalities between me and this Manaug character. I balked when I saw that she happens to be a fellow member of this big freelance writer group!

This group is supposedly a virtual place for sharing of ideas among freelance writers. Some even manage to get gigs through this group page. I could only imagine this Manaug character taking an online assignment, Googling for articles with a similar topic, copying/pasting, then raking in the bucks for her "very original" written work. Thus, I felt that it was my duty to warn other members of this poser.

I made two articles featuring my original work and screenshots of her plagiarism which I posted in my personal FB wall and in the freelance writers' group page. The group president immediately took notice and asked me questions about my post on this Manaug character. She was even tagged so that she can be given the chance to defend herself from my accusation. However, instead of defending herself, she immediately changed her account settings and eventually disabled it.

She was virtually caught red-handed!

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I thought that after that fiasco, my problems with that poser were all over. My friend -- the one who alerted me about this Manaug -- told me to still be vigilant. When he also sent a strongly-worded message to this person after he caught her shoplifting his posts, she also deactivated her account for around one to two weeks. Then when she reactivated it, she was back to copying/pasting his posts again. Only then did he block her.

This person obviously has a terrible psychological problem: she just couldn't help herself from copying from others!

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Before my own realization, allow me to first explain what plagiarism is. Merriam-Webster.com defines plagiarism as "the act of using another person's words or ideas without giving credit to that person; the act of plagiarizing something."

So in this case, if you publish or publicize someone else's words without the author's permission then present it as your own, you are, by all means, a plagiarist.

However, looking at our laws on intellectual property, social media has yet to be included as another venue for plagiarism to flourish. Our Constitution mentions the publication of plagiarized material, but not the posting of plagiarized material online. Ergo, online publication has yet to be discussed thoroughly and given parameters. 

This is definitely one aspect of the Constitution that deserves an upgrade to include in its scope online intellectual property. Without this, how many more Mildred Gay Manaugs would be coming out of the woodwork and stealing ideas from those who actually used their smarts to create their words?

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After this fiasco, I am not exactly sure whether to be flattered that someone is actually copying my posts, or to hunt down this Mildred Gay Manaug and bitch-slap her until she bleeds.

All I know is that I'm changing my privacy settings on my Facebook.

I used to be very generous with my opinionated thoughts because I'd like to believe that I could still inflict change in a good way, or at least keep the general public informed about issues of the day.

Now, I felt like I was robbed of something. Those were MY posts, MY ideas!

Lord knows if she's even making money out of her stolen ideas and words.

Someone terribly needs a psychological evaluation. And a Pacman-intensity uppercut.

And it's not me.

(#)

Sex, Gender, and Everything else in between

Since March is International Women's Month, let's talk about gender -- not just the female gender, but all genders.

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...which is why you need to resort to name-

calling -- to protect the world from those who

are "masahol pa sa hayop." (From a post in

Facebook)

The past month saw a phenomenal clash between religious beliefs and the slow but broadening acceptance of the third gender -- the LGBT group -- no thanks to a self-appointed bastion of righteousness and senator-wannabe who is better seen (and heard) inside the boxing ring than out of it.

As with many of my shoutouts in Facebook in the light of that "masahol pa sa hayop" gaffe, I remain steadfast in my belief that religious bigotry has no place in modern society. To accept a gender group's existence but to curtail their right to happiness in relationships is still bigotry in every sense of the word. We cannot sit in our high thrones of morality and throw stones at those who we deem are "sinful in God's eyes," for we are not God, much less, yardsticks of morality. No amount of knowledge in biblical verses can hide the fact that some of us are blind to our own prejudices, or simply refuse to understand the struggles and aspirations of those with a set of beliefs different from ours.

After all, it's much easier to say, "Ah, basta!" than to allow the mind to expand its understanding of the world and the beings sharing it with us. Ah basta, babae at lalaki lang ang alam ko. Ah basta, walang bakla sa mga hayop. Ah basta, hindi pwedeng magsama bilang magkatipan ang dalawang babae or dalawang lalaki. Ah basta...

Ah basta...all of these are merely Man's rules. Have we truly considered if these are also God's rules? Truth be said, we have nary a clue as to the extent of God's acceptance and love for everything He has created. Only we mere mortals are shrewd enough to mold our view of the world according to our puny understanding -- then decorate these with divine undertones to make them sound all big and holy like God's word.

Tsk. The Pharisees are still very much alive up to this day, so it seems. Pharisees -- concocting religious shit to keep "unholy ideas" in check since many centuries B.C.

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The past few years have also seen an even more heightened awareness of gender bias and how to eliminate or at least, mitigate it from all sectors of life.

There are still those who do not recognize gender bias, though -- not because they do not want to but because they are not aware of what it is. Some are even unaware that they are guilty of causing gender bias.

Before the problem is tackled, first, there has to be a definition of terms.

The primary question to be asked here is this: what is the difference between sex and gender?

ReachOut.com provides a good definition of sex as being "generally assigned to a person at birth, usually based on external and internal reproductive organs (whether you have a penis or vagina), hormones, and the genetic makeup (known as sex chromosomes) inherited from your parents."

Technically, sex is the physiological makeup you get to have as a default.

Every color, every hue...is represented by me and you. (From

WatermarkOnline.com)

Gender, meanwhile, presents distinctions that go beyond the physical orientation. It presents whole new dimensions to the bland male/female molds by integrating the mental, emotional, psychological, and even spiritual and cultural aspects of a person's identity. By doing so, a person can now choose to be male, female, both, or neither. So if you're still quite clueless as to why the LGBT pride flags come in the colors of the rainbow, this is why.

Now, if you feel that choosing one's orientation is tantamount to inviting God's wrath, then stop reading this, go back to the Middle Ages, and thump your Bible.

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Now, about women empowerment.

I'm your boss. Fear me. (From The Richmond Standard)

Recently, results on a study conducted by the International Labor Organization (ILO) became a hot topic in many news outlets. It talked about the Philippines ranking fourth among countries in terms of women holding middle- to senior-management positions in private firms over the last two decades.

This could be seen as a victory in the fight for gender equality in the Philippines -- but alas, this victory is watered down in the details. It turns out that while there are more women holding high positions in private companies, majority of these private firms are microenterprises. In other words, rumaraket lang si misis/ate/Ma'am, probably to augment a family income that -- if relied entirely on the man of the house -- will not be enough to keep said family comfortably afloat.

And so, it is not really a fight for gender equality being conquered here but a fight against poverty.

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Up to now, we have yet to truly recognize the value of women in the Filipino family. Traditional views dictate that she is supposed to be the "ilaw ng tahanan," but do not specify exactly how she provides the said "ilaw."

This, however, is the reality in many Filipino households, especially those in the boondocks: women are supposed to be all of these and more -- wife, homemaker, baby generator, cook, laundry person, nanny, free whore, janitor, and now, family income augmentor. All these while many men come home, sit on their rears, and complain how their life in the workplace sucks while sipping beer in front of the television.

We are still a long way from seeing women making a choice for their health's sake in family planning, especially with legislators literally shooting the bill on reproductive health down.

Wiith that in mind, all I can say is this: where religious fanaticism and misconception ends, a genuine move toward reproductive health begins.

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Earlier today, I found this post in my Facebook account about the move toward gender equality becoming tired already. "Women are not supposed to do what the men can do. Women are created to do what the men CANNOT do." Or something like that.

I dunno whether that post was in honor of my femininity or an implicit effort to put me and my fellow womenfolk into place. Funny how that post came out a day after International Women's Day.

Primarily, the only thing women can do that men cannot do is to give birth.

So...does that mean that we should just stick to making babies instead of showing the world what awesomeness we women can come up with?

Or am I just reading between the lines too much?

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Just noticing how many intelligent women I know are either separated from their husbands or are standing firm on their desire to not get married.

You see that's the problem with the female gender. You start thinking big things and making decisions on your own -- then suddenly the men around you scuttle away like frightened rats.

What is it about thinking women that men are so afraid of? I wonder...

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Wokey, before the menfolk admonish me for trash-talking them, allow me to redeem myself with this.

Women empowerment does not only involve women. In fact, this concept cannot become tangible if not for the men who contribute to the cause by acknowledging women's strengths and weaknesses and sharing the load.

That is why I am brought to tears when I see grown men playing Mommy to their children. And when I say playing Mommy, I mean helping out with the household chores, tending to the kids, expertly changing diapers, cooking for the family...and not just sitting on their respective bums after a day at work.

After all, in today's world, it's no longer the father's sole duty to provide the family's upkeep. The mother has already filled that economic gap to make ends meet. So if they can share duties in that aspect, why not in duties at home?

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E.L. James, author of 50 Shdes of Grey. (from 

ProfessionalFangirls.com)

Men in women empowerment are also aware of the fact that a woman's vagina is not their property but hers and hers alone.

So when a woman says no, she means it. It doesn't matter what the heck she is (or isn't) wearing.

And Anastasia Steele of 50 Shades of Grey fame, it doesn't matter if he is rich and drop-dead gorgeous. The freaking guy is raping you, and you are taking so much pleasure from it?! Seriously, E.L. James...

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And with that, I would like to give my love to all the strong women of the world on this International Month of Women.

To those not yet strong enough...well, remember that only you can change the tide -- not your man, not the people around you, not the Church or any other religious institution around. At the end of the day, it will all boil down to you.

Make that change.

A Death in the Family: Strange Occurrences

My daughter and I are open-minded toward phenomena that neither science nor religion can explain. So when Mommy passed on, we were half-expecting that we'd be experiencing some paranormal phenomena, as what is quite common whenever there are deaths. Not that we were looking forward to it -- we just programmed ourselves to be ready if such events did occur. After all, it was still Mommy (or Lola, to my daughter), only in another form, so there was no reason to be afraid.

My daughter did develop this habit though, especially during the first few weeks after her Lola's passing. Every now and then, she'd mumble into open space as if talking to her Lola. "Tuman (her other nickname for her Lola)," she would say, "I love you...but please don't scare us, okay?"

And so, almost two months have passed and so far, we have remained paranormal activity-free...except for this one particular instance...

Yes, this is a ghost story.

**********

We have just concluded the second (and probably the most important) day of Mommy's wake. We just held our high mass for Mommy which was well-attended and which also featured no less than a respected figure of the local Catholic Church officiating her mass, as well as the beautiful voices of my choirmates, the Loreto Minstrels. It was already past midnight when our last visitor left and I told my daughter that we first have to consolidate all the "abuloy" for that day before going home. (Yes, we didn't stay 24/7 at the funeral parlor. Please read my previous article regarding this.)

Usually when we leave, the funeral parlor maintenance keepers take over by cleaning up the chapel and closing it up when they're done. They will only open the doors again when we come back.

That night, the old Manong assigned to Mommy's chapel came in with a story that gave us goosebumps.

Manong related that the night before, he did his nightly chores at the chapel and closed it for security purposes. However, even with the closed doors, one could still see inside as the chapel had glass walls. Outside the chapel were still some pews that just about anyone could sit on.

After tidying up the chapel, Manong went to their other branch which was several blocks away, also to clean up their other chapels. It was almost dawn when he returned to the branch where Mommy was in. Upon his return, the other maintenance keepers who stayed confronted him to ask a question: did he allow other members of our family inside during the wee hours of the morning?

As it turned out, at around 3 or 4 AM, several of them saw an old woman inside the chapel where Mommy's remains were placed. They couldn't see her face because she had her back toward them, and she was apparently standing behind the pews and staring at the coffin.

Manong asked them what the old woman looked like. According to them, she had short white hair, a thin frame, and she was wearing a long black printed dress with long sleeves and a collar.

The description of the old woman's dress was the exact same description of what Mommy was wearing in the coffin (!).

Note that only Manong was the only one allowed to enter the chapel where Mommy was having her wake. Ergo, only he knew what Mommy looked like.

Also note the time when they allegedly saw the old woman inside the chapel. That was around the same time when Mommy passed on.

My daughter and I could only look at each other and whisper, "Hala....."

**********

That episode was the first and only time that Mommy tried to make a connection with the living. We could only guess that she probably showed up at the chapel because she was worried that she would be cremated without a mass in her memory -- which we did grant her later that day.

I guess her soul was satisfied that we were able to give her the Catholic rites she wanted. She's now at peace.

A Death in the Family: Traditions

Foreword: The series of articles I will be posting are all dedicated to my mom, Rufina Villegas Perez, who recently left us to join the Creator last January 3.

Mommy, you know I can better express myself in writing. This will probably be the best tribute in your honor that you will never hear/read.

**********

When Mommy passed away in the early morning of January 3, my daughter and I were caught flat-footed.

We just didn't know where to begin the process.

Thank God for our barangay paramedics, they were the ones who pointed us to the right direction on how to say our last goodbyes to Mommy.

After they confirmed my initial diagnosis that Mommy was really gone, they told us to find a funeral parlor in the vicinity and they will be the ones to pick up the remains.

The daughter and I were still wide-eyed and shivering from the early morning cold and the dawning of Mommy's passing on us when we got to the funeral parlor. The people in the office apparently noticed this and very patiently guided us through the motions.

I chose an all-in cremation package, and I didn't regret that choice. We got the entire package from the chapel for the wake to the coffin to the transport of the remains to the crematorium, and even the paperwork. All we had to do was to buy some snacks for the visitors to the wake, get some ribbons and flowers to adorn the coffin, get a priest for the mass, and show up at the wake itself.

Those nitty-gritty practical stuff, the daughter and I were able to deliver. It was the traditions about death that got us in a tizzy.

For example, we didn’t have any prayers for the dead led by the community elders on the first day since Mommy’s passing. Not that we didn’t want to have one – we just didn’t know any community elders in our place in Pasig.

Initially, the plan was to have Mommy cremated first before the wake. You see, at that moment when she breathed her last, her face was locked in this expression as if she was still gasping for air. Her mouth was open and I even had to tie her head (just like in Dolphy's comedies) to keep her jaw shut just so she won't be caught in rigor mortis looking that way. I was afraid that the embalmer and the makeup artist would also do a terrible job at making her look presentable for the wake. However, when we returned to the funeral parlor after the embalming, I was very happy with the job they made on Mommy. Other than signs of stuffing, her face looked quite radiant, her makeup not too gaudy. A friend also advised me that the Catholic Church may not approve of cremation prior to the mass in her memory. So fine, we had the cremation schedule adjusted.

Apparently, the Catholic Church still seems quite uncomfortable about cremations. Many years ago when cremations were not yet as popular as they are now and Mommy was still quite healthy, she already told me that when she passed on, she would like her body to be cremated and her ashes scattered in the waters off her hometown in Leyte. It was quite a romantic idea, so I decided to go with that plan of hers. When I mentioned that to Fr. Francis Lucas, former CBCP spokesperson and distinguished officiator of my mom's high mass, he related to me that when the Church eventually allowed cremation of its faithful departed, he also had that same plan of having his remains cremated and his ashes scattered in the ocean so that if in life, he wasn't able to travel much, in ash form he can travel to the four corners of the world. (Sabay tawa.) However, he was told by his elders that there are rules governing cremation, and among them is making sure that the ashes are kept intact and placed in a sacred dwelling -- like in a church columbary or a cemetery. So there.

Thus, Mommy's and my initial ashes-in-the-sea plan also went skimboarding away.

Then there was that tradition about family not leaving the dead alone during the entirety of the wake. Our reasons were practical and beneficial to my daughter’s and my health. There were only two of us left in our family, and going on shifts just so one could stay behind at the funeral home just wasn’t practical since barely no one visited in the mornings up to mid-afternoon. Besides, home was just one jeepney ride away from the funeral parlor so we found it more convenient for us to go home and recharge after the last visitor has left. Third, the daughter and I were barely sleeping already during those last few weeks with Mommy ever since she was confined in the hospital. By the time of the wake, our respective biorhythms were already at an all-time low. I was afraid that after Mommy, we would be the next ones to be hospitalized. We just had to get some rest.

Local tradition also dictates that when a guest is about to leave, said guest should not be accompanied out of the premises by the bereaved family. It is also considered proper for guests not to bid farewell to the family of the deceased as they exit. The daughter and I have yet to fathom the reasons behind these so while there were no clear-cut reasons behind them, we just kept on kissing, making beso-beso, and seeing to all our guests as they came and went. Why scrimp on all that love being shared, anyway?

We did follow the black dress code though. It just didn’t feel right for us to wear bright colors when the overall mood was solemn and contemplative.

Even if we didn't really understand why (although we were provided with horror stories to make sure we adhered to this), we also didn't bring home any food meant for the guests at the wake. Not that we were interested in bringing the food home, though. There was just so much of it, we felt that it was best shared with the funeral home caretakers who guarded and maintained the cleanliness of the chapel where Mommy's remains were placed.

I remember when a cousin of mine who met a violent death had her own wake. When it was time for her remains to be brought to the church for the high mass, her coffin was hoisted up by the gate and we -- the family members -- were made to pass under it. Of course, curiosity got the better of me and I just had to ask what that weird ritual was for. One of the elders explained that since the circumstances of my cousin's death were very dark, passing under her coffin at the threshold of the venue where the wake was held assures us family members that we won't get the bad vibes brought about by her death. An alternative to that is passing over the coffin, but since the coffin was quite wide, it seemed more practical to just pass under it.

Since Mommy passed on due to natural causes, thank God, we didn't have to go through that going over/under the coffin ritual.

**********

Traditions are supposed to define the culture of a people. However, when certain traditions lose their purpose in modern times, then why continue to observe them?

And even when my daughter and I weren't able to observe all the Filipino and Catholic death rituals, we haven't gotten showered upon by fire and brimstone yet, nor have we been given an unscheduled visit by Mommy's irate soul.

So I guess at the end of the day, we still did things right, after all.

Pulling the Plug: Why 70s Kids Never Saw Voltes V and Mazinger Z again

I am part of this Facebook page that carries the name, Voltes V: Let's Volt In!!! (Sorry peeps, this is a closed group so even if I placed the link here, you might not be able to see it.) Judging from the name alone, it could easily be deduced that this is a gathering of people who, in the 70s, tuned in to the most powerful anime character of our childhood, Voltes V.

Wahahaha, I am sooo carbon-dating myself with this one.

Anyway, I regularly find pictures of Voltes V collectibles and stuff proudly being posted by members on this page, and they never really caught my attention - until recently.

Someone decided to post the question that remains a mystery to televiewers of the mecha robot generation up to now - who was responsible for the cancellation of the robot anime programs?

And just like that, the thread of comments to this particular post grew to enormous lengths with discussions that went from TV network policies to the political unrest of those times.

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Before I go on to the conspiracy theories behind the sudden non-airing of cartoons featuring robots like Voltes V, Mazinger Z, Mekanda Robot, Daimos, Grendizer, etc. as mentioned in the thread, allow me to give a short backgrounder of events in the 70s during the heyday of these mecha robots on Philippine TV.

Every late weekday afternoon in the latter part of the 1970s, the streets of Manila would usually be devoid of children. That's because kids that time would run home to catch the 30-minute run of their favorite robots on TV.

Our heroes from way back. Clockwise from upper left: Mazinger Z, Voltes V,
Mekanda Robot, Daimos, and Grendizer (See links for photo sources)

In those precious minutes, children of my time would be transported to alternate planes where oppression would've reigned if not for heroes in the form of gigantic robots who defended their respective worlds from alien invaders. It was not just the fight scenes that kept us glued to the television series - it was the engaging storylines about the robots' human creators and pilots. Particularly memorable was the underlying theme about family ties in Voltes V, the Romeo-Juliet-like story in Daimos, and the valiant endeavors of the characters in Mekanda Robot, Grendizer, and Mazinger Z. Oh, and there was also Aphrodite A and her "boob," er, photon missiles, hahaha. (They shoot out from her chest. How else would you call them?)

Mecha chick Aphrodite A from the Mazinger Z cartoon and her
"boob-missiles." (Photo from GeekAlerts.com)

Most popular of the cartoon anime robots was Voltes V whose story had several layers of sub-plots. That time, the series was already at its climax when suddenly, GMA 7 stopped running the remaining five episodes. Such was also the case with the other kickass robots. Instead of our favorite mecha robots, what we found airing on their timeslot were curly-haired weepy cartoon girls with repeating names like Candy Candy and Ron Ron the Flower Angel.

And we kids were left with mouths agape.

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Being a child in the 70s, I was never really bothered by all that tension caused by what the adults called Martial Law. However, my earliest recollection of childhood in those days was when then-President Ferdinand Marcos would go on live on TV, essentially disrupting whatever program there was that we were watching. Of course, I would immediately complain as any kid of toddler age would. However, I'd be shushed by my mom and told that I'm not supposed to say bad things about Marcos unless I want policemen ramming through our front door. And thus, TV time was relatively quiet and complaint-free unless my dad changed channels to basketball.

Kiddie TV time went on overdrive with the advent of the mecha robots during the mid-70s. I remember running into the streets with the neighborhood kids after our afternoon date with our favorite robots then making all those karate moves complete with the "Voltes Five-ah!!!" battlecry, We'd be comparing notes on who was the more badass robot. Most of my playmates were Voltes V fans. The girls swooned over the star-crossed lovers in Daimos. As for me, I was a Mazinger Z fan, primarily because I could draw his head. (Haha.) The Star Rangers, a precursor of the Power Rangers, was also another favorite of our neighborhood gang. We'd be mimicking their martial arts poses after crying out the name of our favorite ranger. Star 4 was my favorite then for the simple reason that she was the only female of the team.

Then one day, the robots left our TV screens. Just like that.

For the next few days, children at school and in the neighborhood were scratching their heads and asking what in the world happened to our favorite robots. Some were in denial and continued to wait for their robots to return. But then, all they found on TV were those weepy girls with big hair and glistening eyes.

After that, afternoons were never as animated as before.

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The air was rife with speculation as to the real reason why our favorite mecha robots were never seen on mainstream TV again, especially since no one actually stepped up to give stunned and confused viewers a concrete explanation. The most widely-spread theories though concerned Malacanang's involvement in the issue.

Here are just some of the more popular theories behind the networks' pulling the plug on Voltes V, Mazinger Z, and their fellow robots:

• Marcos ordered it because the shows were allegedly instilling violence among children. I grew up with that theory in my mind, especially when certain reports came out about children purportedly hitting each other and another kid allegedly getting injured from doing a flying kick. (Duh...a kid was also reported as critically hurt after jumping from a window a la Superman, but was the movie banned? Nah.)
• Marcos ordered it after realizing that most of the storylines of these robot shows involved rising in rebellion or going against a force much stronger than the protagonists. The former strongman allegedly grew fearful that the lessons of these shows may stick to the minds of their viewers, thereby creating a potential uprising against his administration. Better to nip a mutiny at the bud, so they said.
• This is a more recent theory. Marcos merely suggested to the network heads that these shows be banned for either of the above-mentioned reasons. It was the network heads who ordered the programs' death, based on the said suggestion by the former president. They were just too fearful of reprisals from the Marcos regime had they not acted on the president's suggestion.

One thing is sure, though: children from that era never forgot that day when they ("They," which could be either the Marcos administration, the TV networks, or both) pulled the plug on our beloved robots. Those with more resources managed to get copies of the last episodes of Voltes V straight from Japan. (How they were able to understand the undubbed tapes is something to be left to the imagination.) The rest of us had to wait several more years until GMA (the TV network, not the former president) finally aired the final episodes. By then, most of us were already new yuppies or fresh out of grad school. As for the other robots, I never knew how their respective stories ended. Neither did my playmates in Algeciras Street.

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For all it was worth, the mecha robot era was so far among the best childhood memories I had. It primarily defined a generation of children who still knew how to run in the sun and play, unlike the present generation of kids who stay home and click on their gadgets for fun. It was a time when kids made the most out of a bad situation where movement and expression were curtailed due to the biddings of a paranoid regime. It was a time when all the heroes we ever needed apart from our respective parents came in the form of clunky metal with ninja moves.

And we all grew up fine, with no apparent residues from the "violence" that was supposedly implanted in our minds from watching these mecha robots in our youth.

Let me end this article with a picture of Aphrodite A -- just because.

(Photo from Boodyzina's Twitter account)

Much Ado about a Door Knob

It was around 8 last Thursday night when I requested my daughter to buy a can of tuna in vegetable oil from across the street since I wasn't feeling too well to go out. She didn't take long. I then remembered that our steamed rice supply was already low and might not be enough for everyone, including our pet cats. Thus, I requested her to go out again to buy steamed rice.

I was upstairs when I heard my mom and my daughter getting anxious. When I went down to check them out, I saw my daughter apparently at war with our main door's knob. No matter how much or how often she turned the knob, the door just wouldn't open.

I took over the door knob turning to find out what the problem was. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed that the locking mechanism which bolts the door was no longer moving in sync with the turning of the knob. No amount of door knob turning was making the locking mechanism budge. I attempted to reach the "tongue" of the locking mechanism - that component which inserts itself into the adjacent hole on the side of the wall - with a butter knife in the hope of prying it back into the main body of the door knob, but the knife could barely make it through the very narrow space between the door side and the wall.

So after around 15 minutes of frustrating myself with my thousand-and-one attempts at trying to open our door to no avail, it finally dawned on me that my whole family and I were locked in our own home with only the second-floor window as our means of "escape."

Since I can't go out, I figured that someone from outside may be able to help us with our predicament. Thus, I called Cyrus, my former office mate who lives relatively nearby, for help. When he arrived, the first hurdle was to enter our gate which my daughter clamped shut with our combination padlock. We were already masters at just feeling through the small bumps of that padlock even in the dark so we had no trouble opening it. However, for a combination lock newbie like Cyrus, it took a while for him to get it right - but he did get it right and managed to open the gate.

The next hurdle was the door itself. I was thinking that if someone from outside turned the door handle, the door would just open smoothly. But noooo - it still didn't budge.

Next, I gave Cyrus the key to our main door in the hope that in turning the key, something may just click and the door will open. Nope, still no success.

Cyrus was getting just as desperate as I was, so he tried something a little more physical - he kicked on the door knob. Nope. Still nada.

Knowing that all our efforts were going to waste, Cyrus then left momentarily, first, to look for a locksmith. However, it was already around 10 PM and the locksmith at the corner has already left for home. He did the next best thing - to call the local barangay tanods (community security officers) for help. They did come to assess the issue. However, since it was already very late and very dark, we all decided to just let things be until morning the next day.

One of the tanods did return by morning, this time, with a ladder, a screwdriver, and a hammer. He had to climb the ladder to enter our house via our second floor patio, then he gave our door knob the death blow with several jabs of his screwdriver and some pummeling with his hammer.

Manong Barangay Tanod just took off the handle and was unscrewing
some screws. (Photo from personal archive)

By the time he was done with his task, this is what remained of our door. Thank God, we still have some remaining bolts left to fasten it shut from the inside.

Our knobless door. (Photo from personal archive)

And this was the culprit of all our troubles.

How could such a contraption be such a bother? (Photo from personal
archive)

I remember some wise sage saying that everything happens for a reason, I guess that apart from pissing me off with that door knob fiasco, that incident led me to reflect on some realizations about life:

• No matter how sturdy some things look, they can turn out to be big duds in the end.
• It could've turned out worse. The daughter could've been locked out, especially since she was the last one to use the main door. We may have been locked in but at least, everyone was already inside when it happened. We could've also been locked in without any supplies. The steamed rice supply which the daughter was supposed to replenish turned out to be enough for everyone including the cats, after all.
• I don't rue the fact that there's no male in our house. I still have male friends and neighbors who can help me out with the more brawny stuff at home.
• Thank God for good friends. (Yo, Cyrus!)
• Security should be of prime importance in every home.
• When a builder cuts corners in the construction of anything, sooner or later (probably sooner), the repercussions of this false economy will make themselves felt - like locking people in.

Several days ago, I bought a replacement door knob, this time, with the locking thingie that you turn instead of the push-button type. The sales lady said that this one has lesser chances of committing the problem we encountered with the push button one. She gave me this explanation about a spring letting go and stuff, but anyway, this basically summarizes what she recommended, especially for a main door:

(From HappyHerald.com and Buzzle.com)

The new door knob has just been installed yesterday, virtually ending our domestic drama featuring our main door. It's much easier to sleep at night now, content with the thought that no outsider could just trespass with a crowbar and industrial-strength wire cutters.

To my paranoid self, once again, you have been shushed.