I'm already late for the picnic thing, I'm doing the live update thing for new viruses, and I'm running water for my bath and checking my closet for clothes I can actually wear. Ah yes, the joys of multi-tasking.

Fried the brilliant moron asks whether teachers should be held accountable for the subsequent dim-wittedness of their students:

“I think it is the responsibility of teachers, and other educators, to evaluate students based on intelligence and competency rather than on regurgitation of textbook mumbo-jumbo. Scientists have taught monkeys, and dolphins, to remember things like sounds, shapes, and words. I think humans, even young ones, should be held to a standard a tad higher.”

True, there is a lot to be said for this country’s state of education as well. It’s not so much as a dumbing down, but perhaps a tendency to be more lax, to allow witticisms and the ability to bluff pass as I sign of intelligence. We only need to look at the kind of game show contestants crowding our television sets. You can be sure that each of those contestants had been in school at one point in their lives, and most of them with college degrees. But given questions that require, in the very least, knowledge of trivia and common sense, they all seem to be newly lobotomized.

It can be argued that game shows flourish for fun and the possibility of earning a quick buck, and I don’t think such questions as “discuss and differentiate the quantity theory of insanity as culled from the text of Will Self and Hedda Gabbler” would figure in prime time television. We may complain and wrinkle our noses at all the game shows, the extra sudsy soap operas, dubbed or otherwise, and proclaim all of these as unspeakably jologs. It is. They are made that way because the target market is specifically and undeniably masa.

Jologs is not an invention or a byword but a demographic: It is the product of research, the countless studies and focus group discussions involving that specific audience. No matter how baduy we may think those shows are, as long as a large number of people watch them with zest, and discuss the plot points on the jeepney or in the MRT, their existence will be assured. The advertisers will continue to sell their products to us in between the gaps, just when you’re on the edge of your seat waiting to see who gets voted out, slapped or raised from the dead.

Elsewhere in jologs land: Mark plays with his Jolina dolls and provides us a backstage view of a formerly leather clad Kris Aquino.

200 inmates were evacuated from a fire that broke out in the maximum security zone of the National Bilibid Prisons in Muntinlupa. The cause of the blaze is unknown, although it is suspected that an illegal wiring set up by one of the inmates could have caused it. The affected building holds those serving life terms or those awaiting execution. Police Superintendent Tesoro dismissed reports of the being part of an escape plan: "We did a headcount and all of them are accounted for."

Haven’t these guys ever watched a prison movie?

The UP Film Center held a three day Nida Blanca Retrospective which started Monday, 26 November. The featured films showcases Nida Blanca's best performances in over five decades of acting: Nonoy Catindig's Walang Sisihan (1962), a Nida-Nestor comedy; Miguelito, Ang Batang Rebelde (1985), Eddie Garcia's Magdusa Ka (1986), Maryo J. Delos Reyes's Saan Darating ang Umaga (1983).

I caught this evening's screening of Sana Pag-ibig Na (1998), directed by Jeffrey Jeturian from a script by Armando Lao. Sana Pag-ibig Na examines the emotional turbulence that rocks a university professor's family when his infidelity is discovered after his death. Whose loyalty should you choose? Who is the better woman -- your mother or your father's mistress? The professor's wife, their son, and the mistress shift allegiances and learn to live with the harsh situation thrust upon them.

Given that the situation is staple melodrama, the actors turn out very fine and understated performances. Nida Blanca's wronged wife is pitiful, angry, mean and then finally at peace with herself. Gerald Madrid manages to convey the confusion and anger he initially felt at his father's betrayal, and then later the guilt for having befriended his father's other woman. And Angel Aquino is surprisingly non-hysterical in a role that could have ended up in complete shout- and slapfests.

Sana Pag-ibig Na was produced on a shoestring budget as part of the pito-pito movie trend from the late 90s. Although critically acclaimed, the movie never really found its audience. It is therefore a bit sad that the theater was only half full, which could be expected since the university has only a handful of classes on Wednesdays.

Dubya is watching you: A Durham Tech freshman gets a rap from the Secret Service for alleged "anti-American" paraphernalia in her room. What? Dubya-as-hangman posters aren't allowed in dorm rooms anymore? Via Boing boing.

I was in the Music Museum last night for New Voice Company’s re-staging of The Vagina Monologues when a friend informed me that the Republic of Malate got burned. Both the Music Museum and Roma are owned by singer Kuh Ledesma. In 1992, the Music Museum burned down. It's as though Ms. Ledesma's business motto is burn down the house instead of break a leg.

"Ideolohiya! Ideolohiya! Nakakain ba ang ideolohiya?"

I think I had that for breakfast somewhere and spit it out. But I'm not too sure. Let's not discuss this so early in the morning.

Dropped by the blog's guestbook. It's good to know that people out there are actually reading this. Aside from the stalker, of course. If you have any violent reactions, you can leave me a message on the guestbook or send me email. If it still doesn't work, you can resort to mental telepathy.

Hell, I'm all for justice, freedom, and liberty for all. That's what democracy is all about, and I'd rather have all the weird stuff that happens in this country than live in fear of getting dragged out of my house and never be seen ever again. But I'm not going to set myself on fire.

Heard on this afternoon's Twisted on Sunday: The government of East Timor invited U2 to perform at their Independence Day celebrations next May. Whoa. Hm. I wonder if we can have Michael Stipe and the rest of REM for Labor Day or something?