Bush got re-elected, and many Americans as well as folks from other countries were flabbergasted.  Predictably, (as in any post-election scenario) people whined, complained, and got frustrated (doesn't really matter who gets the coveted presidential seat).  Controversies, scandals, and allegations are still arising here and there; they’re simply tied to the cacophonous music of election, creating an emerging rhythm or pattern, i.e. whenever someone wins, someone says, “Cheater!” 

If you find yourself disagreeing with 51% of America’s electorate, don’t fret because this is definitely Bush’s last term; US presidents can only be elected twice, and after that, it’s bye-bye Washington for them, and back to being regular bozos.  However, the waiting period is what’s going to kill you because you have to endure Bush’s face for the next four years.  Me?  Election and politics are foreign territories to me.  I just go with the flow.  I know, what kind of a citizen am I... But hey, I clean up my own room, so I’m not a liability to this country.  

Adding a different thread of thought on “rhythm,” have you seen politicians dance?  Probably you might have seen them dance under the sluggish rhythm of ballroom music, but have you seen them perform complicated steps sweating under the vigorous beat of modern music?  Probably not.  I guess it’s anatomically impossible considering that their osteoporotic bones might get in the way... 

But lo and behold, nowadays, we can practically make anyone dance, and it's not due to limited medical advancements, it's due to vast technological advancements, computer-wise, in which the impossible becomes possible—well, at least in front of our computer screens.  So, who are our guinea pigs?  Who else, but famous people and celebrities.  And of course, political figures are no less stranger to this type of digital experimentation—especially those with higher ranks (Bush, he’s right on target on this one). 

So, if you’re still frustrated about the election results, maybe making Bush and Hillary dance to oblivion will loosen you up.  Delight at how gracefully hilarious they look like.  See Bush perform radical splits rivaling those of a gymnast’s, and sigh at Hillary while she executes her hoppin’-like-a-constipated-bunny step with an amazingly carefree spirit.  Feast your eyes on these politicians’ hidden cheerleading skills. 

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Thursday,Nov 18 2004, 02:23:04 AMfaking it Have you ever wondered how...

faking it

Have you ever wondered how commercial models get to be so thin?  Or perhaps you might’ve wondered what’s the secret to getting those lean, ripped bodies you’ve been hopelessly dying for?  Yeah, I know, I know… exercise, along with a healthy diet, is the key to achieving the “perfect” physique—that’s what they always say.  But are there any other alternatives, let’s say, for those couch potato heads who don’t want to break a sweat?  Well, wonder no more, for this video clip will give you an idea that will satisfy those questions going on in your mind.  Take a deep breath and hold...

Ok, exhale now.  There you go.  You’ve just witnessed the secret: you could fake the appearance of being thin by simply sucking the fat in.  Controlled breathing is the key, preventing your skintight clothes from scandalously bursting in front of a staring crowd.  And once you’re left in solitude, desperately take in huge gasps of air (to supply oxygen to your brain cells, otherwise you might end up like a retard) after that nerve-racking period of breath suppression.  Also, it wouldn't hurt to change the brand of your tuna. 

Or better yet, if you want to save yourself from undesirable attention, stick with what the dietitian has told you—exercise and diet.  When it comes to health, there’s no such thing as “immediate.”  Be yourself.  Like what they say, “It’s painful to be beautiful.” 

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Monday,Nov 1 2004, 10:14:24 PMchucky… a doll of terror? you’re kidding�

chucky… a doll of terror? you’re kidding…

I can’t help but rant about the disgrace that is Chucky.  For crying out loud, he’s just a freakin’ rag doll, and everyone’s afraid of him.  It never fails to give me a good laugh whenever I try to grasp the idea that this doll, an absolute midget approximately two feet tall/short, is a killing machine that’s responsible for quite a formidable number of deaths—of course, I’m talking about the rising death toll resulting from Chucky’s killing spree since his debut on Child’s Play 1.  It’s ridiculous how he uses his sheer size to overpower his victims who are more than twice his height.  Ironically, in spite of Chucky’s implausible antics, I still find myself slightly entertained by the series—well, mainly due to their comical absurdity.

“Seed of Chucky,” the sequel to “Bride of Chucky,” is the latest to Hollywood’s infamous homicidal doll series.  Recalling from the last movie, the bloodthirsty pair, Chucky and Tiffany, gave birth before they died, leading us to the concept of the next movie, Seed of Chucky.  As suggested by its title, the story unfolds around the duo’s orphaned offspring, Glen, who journeys to Hollywood to resurrect his parents.  And alas! The family is now complete.  Well, whaddaya know? What a sweet family reunion, and isn’t that just great… another addition to America’s dysfunctional families.

But seriously, if you were to come face to face with Chucky, don’t chicken out from his plastic-surgery-required-so-badly face.  Running away from a doll is like running away from any unresolved childhood fears, or even worse, running away from a walking headless turkey (after all, what’s to be afraid of, if the worst you could get from a zombie turkey attack is a cranberry-stained shirt?).  Certainly, Chucky may be scarier and deadlier than your average Barbie/voodoo doll, but the fact is, he’s as helpless as a cockroach on its back wiggling its feet and struggling to get up. 

So gather up your confidence.  Face your childhood fears; face Chucky.  If the freak doll pays you a visit, get a broomstick and poke his eyes out.  Maim him.  Mangle him.  Asphyxiate him (uhm, I don’t know ‘bout this one).  Stop his rule of terror once and for all.  And if you’re the daring type who likes the adrenaline rush from hand-to-hand combat to flaunt the kicks and punches and even slaps you might have learned from secretly watching the Richard Simmons’ exercise videos, then so be it, and indulge yourself.  I might even cheer for you while you bust the plastic crap out of this peewee doll face. 

BUT, yeah, there’s a big but (not yours), if the doll’s got a gun, don’t be a hero in vain.  Bid the scar-faced doll sayonara, and scram for your dear lives.  Don’t worry so much about being called a chicken afterwards.  Obviously, a broomstick’s no match against a gun.

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