a country screwed by a catholic god

I remember when my mom and I boarded the TWA jet at the airport in Manila back in the 70s, when I was on the threshold of leaving the Philippines forever as a citizen. I was just 7 years old. After Dad had saved up enough money to send for us (and eventually send for all my siblings), Nanay and I would be the first ones in the family to finally see America. We were going to Chicago, where Dad was. He was our ticket out of that part of the world where the story in the BBC documentary above is told.

I was a kid then. Before he set out and left for America my dad was a mechanical engineer working for the city of Manila and thus earned enough money to afford a townhouse on Taal Street. He was the first one and the only one in his family to go to university and get a degree. Our house had a concrete front yard. We even had a pet monkey but he never let anyone touch him, only Nanay. I had a pet rooster. We had a dog too, but I barely remember it. We used to "summer" at my grandparents' in the jungles of Sibuyan, which was a long trip by boat from city.

I remember my middle older sister B taking me to the markets in metro Manila to go shopping with her. Where we lived there were regular floods during the rainy season, and often times the garbage from the nearby dump would float by. There was nothing we could about it but stand on the furniture and wait til the water went down.

But thanks to Dad and his university degree we were better off than many, many other families in all of the Philippines. Those unfortunates were poverty stricken their entire lives. Even then they always relied on God for comfort, at least some tiny amount of buffer between what little scraps of happiness they could find and the decrepit infestation of a corrupt government, severely scant social programs, and lack of substantial education because of the perpetually poor economy.

That was back in the 70s.

> A typical squatter's neighbourhood in Manila today.

We went back in 2001 to celebrate our parents' 50th wedding anniversary. The party was at the luxurious Shangrila Hotel in Makati City. As we drove through Manila on our outings I stared out the window of the car, at many of the people, at the little kids wearing dirty clothes and sometimes running the streets barefoot. I knew there were so many mothers with five, six, nine, ten or more kids because they were never taught family planning and were never given free condoms or other kinds of contraceptives.

So all these poverty stricken Filipinos continue to breed like rabbits. And yet they also continue to go to church and pray. And the priests in their robes and their authority continue to tell them that using contraceptives is going against God. And I have to wonder, if God is supposed to be good and kind and loving, why hasn't He done anything to help these people? They've done nothing wrong. In fact, they pray to Him regularly. The mothers struggle every single day to try to feed her kids, even going hungry herself so that they can have more to eat.

A lot can happen between the 70s, when I left that world for good, and 2001 when I returned for a visit. And a lot did happen, to me, for me, around me. Good things happened for my family, in large part because we were in a place where it was possible.

It's now 2010. It's been decades since I left the Philippines. Once in a while I catch news of goings on there - an election, extremist activity from Muslim terrorists, a recent massacre by a desperate man who lost his job and picked up a gun. But other than those nothing has really changed in that country that I used to know as home.

From 1972 to 2010. Nothing has changed in the Philippines. Nothing. Even if I wanted to go back there to live, what would I go back to that praying to a Catholic God could offer?

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audio blog: city of garbage | a space alien

sex, seduction, and oppression

^ Louise Brooks was arguably the personification of the edgy sexuality and seductiveness of Prohibition oppression, which just goes to show you - clamp down all you want, but all that good stuff will soon ooze out elsewhere in the most titillatingly wicked ways.

Prohibition Life: Politics, Loopholes And Bathtub Gin | NPR interview (audio, text)

Between the years of 1920, when the 18th Amendment to the Constitution was passed, and 1933, when the 21st Amendment repealed the restriction, it was illegal to sell, transport or manufacture "intoxicating" beverages for consumption in the United States.

But Prohibition didn't stop drinking; it simply pushed the consumption of booze underground. By 1925, there were thousands of speakeasy clubs operating out of New York City, and bootlegging operations sprang up around the country to supply thirsty citizens with alcoholic drinks....

When I used to live in Chicago my then partner proposed an outing to a gay bar. It was situated somewhere in the East Rogers Park neighbourhood, if I remember. He told me it used to be a 1920s speakeasy. I was in! Naturally the place probably looked very little like how it used to during the Prohibition era. There were black & white pictures on the wall of how it used to look. Though it was Friday night there were very few patrons, just me, my partner, his best friend, and two or three others at the bar. It wasn't a hotspot, obviously, but it had a rich back story.

I used to live near The Green Mill Lounge, in the Uptown neighbourhood of Chicago. That place was serious during the 1920s, hosting such infamous types as Al Capone, and serving up gallons of bootleg liquor. The gin, rye, and other goodies were transported to the joint through underground tunnels starting from the lakefront and ending directly below the lounge. There's a trap door on the floor behind the bar leading down to the basement. The tunnels had since been closed off.



I hadn't been there in years, but I still remember the excellent martinis I had, the live jazz (on some evenings it's bosa nova), the cozy booths, and sweet nightclub ambiance. The bartender was more than happy to show us a fat scrapbook of old newspaper clippings dating back to the early 20th century and starring The Green Mill and many of its edgy and glamourous patrons.

The Green Mill itself was a hotbed of gangster activities, crime, and endless streams of cocktails made from spirits smuggled from Canada and floated down on Lake Michigan...

The Green Mill opened in 1907 as Pop Morse’s Roadhouse and from the very beginning, was a favorite hangout for show business people in Chicago. In those days, actors from the north side’s Essanay Studios made the roadhouse a second home. One of the most popular stars to frequent the place was “Bronco Billy” Anderson, the star of dozens of Western silents from Essanay. Anderson often rode his horse to Pop Morse’s and the proprietor even installed a hitching post that Anderson’s horse shared with those of other stars like Wallace Beery and William S. Hart. Back then, even screen greats like Charlie Chaplin stopped in sometimes for a drink.

- Weird and Haunted Chicago: The Green Mill

Silent film legend Louise Brooks epitomized the roaring 20s with her drop dead beauty, severe pageboy bob, and highly erotic glamour. Her star quality and edginess would have been perfectly at home at The Green Mill. This was one dangerous babe, that much more so holding a perfectly mixed martini, bombshell contraband sipping contraband.

your sole lover

OMG. We got 2 wars going, our economy is fucked, the Republicans are being complete moron douchebags....but just watching this, you have to simply sit back and laugh and be reminded there are still life-affirming little moments of absurd joy worth stealing. *sigh*

Thanks to mizzoustud at GG forums for the heads up (as it were), and to NNCParanoja at YouTube for sharing!

POSTSCRIPT: The turtle declined a cigarette after.