Read this and you'll go blind

It’s the first waking thought in my head: They bug me no end.

People’s knowledge about anything is becoming increasingly compartmentalized and homogenized by Wikipedia. It’s the fast-food center for information. It’s convenient, free, quick, relatively accurate, and has links to meatier database, but there are hiccups and horrors like anything on the Net. Iskul Bukol — the legendary TV show from the ’70s — is translated as “School Lump.” Not even the great Escalera Brothers could be considered “school lumps,” whatever the phrase means or un-mean.

I wrote down “wikipedia” on Wikipedia’s search box to see if the Wiki-brain would go mad. Just like in science fiction books where you command an omnipresent/omniscient/omnipotent being to do something it can’t possibly fathom such as, “Get lost!” 

Wikipedia didn’t crash when I did such a thing. It defined “Wikipedia” for me, explained its history, its nature, its plagiarism concerns and sexual content. Maybe John Wikipedia and the W brothers were laughing their butts off. “You think you can crush us, you spiky-haired writer wearing eyeliner and nail polish, you pseudo-Goth — the goth subculture has associated tastes in music, aesthetics, and fashion… gothic styles of dress within the subculture range from deathrock, punk and Victorian style attire, or combinations of the above, most often with dark attire, makeup and hair… — and a Hunter S. Thompson — an American journalist and author who wrote The Rum Diary (1998), Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1971) and Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ‘72 (1973)… he is credited as the creator of Gonzo journalism, a style of reporting where reporters involve themselves in the action to such a degree that they become central figures of their stories.… — wannabe.”

I tried typing “nothing” on the search box. Something came up.

At the office, everyone mills around talking about news they read on Yahoo News — what Lady Gaga wore when she was in high school, the 10 things you didn’t know about Steve Jobs, beauty tricks that charm guys, how Julia Roberts rocked in a mini-dress, whatever. Kind of feels like talking about the same movie you watched last night.

All the cool dudes watch Mad Men. When everybody stops watching Mad Men or House, then I will. I did that with Lost. I like being outside the circle of cool. Young writers share their grocery list of all the cool indie bands out there. The names even sound made up. Like Tropical Popsicle and such. The albums, apparently, are all available online. The music sounds soulless, interchangeable and regurgitated. So, I ain’t in. What, me worry? I have Tito, Vic & Joey’s “Tough Hits” on my iPod. (Langgonisang Maong from “Seriously,” with its shambolic slow-rock slink and pretzel logic, is essential listening… Happy birthday, idol Joey de Leon). I have the Donny Hathaway and Dusty Springfield live albums as well. I have Boredoms and Painkiller. I have a play-list of uncool tunes by Supertramp, The Buggles, Adam Ant, Nilsson, Genesis without Peter Gabriel, etc.

Elbow’s cover of Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black has become a personal anthem.

People who take photographs of their meals. That’s what separates us from animals. You don’t see lions taking pictures of wildebeests as they run them down in the savanna. Or a chimp with some banana salad. Bloggers are excused, though. They have the need to post photos of their lunch. Since everyone is a blogger, then I rest my case. 

I don’t watch TV, meaning I don’t even turn my television set on anymore. But since I buy more DVDs of TV series and download more TV shows these days than movies or music, then I guess I still do watch TV. What would I miss if I go on a no-TV diet? Newscasters talking with that gargling-with-formaldehyde-and-cement accent? Or showbiz news that usually starts with the words, “Nagkahiyaan,” “Super-Excited” or something as inane? What about the headline about a calesa horse falling dead from fatigue?  

I love meeting people who haven’t heard of Whitnail & I or League of Gentlemen. Not the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen mess-of-a-movie featuring Sean Connery. The one with the genius of a third season. The Lesbian and the Monkey. The One-Armed Man is King. The Medusa Touch. These are literary. Should be taught in college.  

I love meeting women with that one quirk that makes them beautiful. One girl hates flying because her ears hurt because of the altitude change — especially when the plane is about to land. Gum doesn’t work. She needs to open her mouth as wide as she can as the plane approaches the runway. She is constantly faking a yawn. Baffles the hell out of her seatmate. Another girl, named after a prickly-leafed plant, used to feed spiders and cockroaches to her dad’s carnivorous fish pets when she was young. Sounds like a Neil Gaiman made-up character, you think? Well, she exists. And I’m seeing her tomorrow.

My television set has a dead pixel in it. Dead center. My favorite HBO and Cinemax movies revolve around that tiny white speck. And it was making me cross-eyed because all I do is stare at it. Even if Glaiza de Castro is on the telly. All I see is the dead pixel on that pretty face. It looks good on Marian Rivera, though. Especially on that TV show where Marian and the rest of the cast in period costume are just standing around in a row (in a firing squad of G-strings and headdresses), talking, debating, planning, talking, discussing, making speeches — uh, did I say talking? Ano ang susunod nating hakbang, Amaya? Ah, pag-uusapan natin!

I don’t care about the debate whether it’s better to read e-books (on the iPad or Kindle) or prose and poems printed on book paper. Imagine, there probably was a time the singers of epics complained about the newfangled piece of technology making the rounds in the village: books. It spells the doom of us all! Which is a bit daft if you think of it now. And what if the Fourth Reich arrives? Would there be an iPad or a Kindle burning session? Would the Führer have his own Facebook account? What’s his profile pic? What he had for lunch?

Celebrities endorse everything. Do they really eat instant noodles? Do they really drink cheap brandy? Shoot me if these stars really give a shit what laundry soaps or fabric-softeners their housekeepers use. Bill Hicks says, “You do a commercial, you’re off the artistic roll-call, forever… Every word that comes out of your mouth is now like a turd falling on my drink.” Now, now, don’t anybody get offended. Maybe the great standup comic was just being ironic or just being a dick. Or both. God bless Bill.

For Hicks, life — just like this article — is just a ride.