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                (
                    [ArticleID] => 259173
                    [Title] => you touch people in a way that you can’t hope to do with your poetry or fiction
                    [Summary] => It’s hard to believe that I’ve been writing "Penman" for the STAR for four years now. The weeks go by very quickly when you’re writing a column–as soon as you finish one, the next is falling due. But it’s been an exhilarating and rewarding experience, hopefully not just for me but for my readers as well.

[DatePublished] => 2004-07-28 00:00:00 [ColumnID] => 135214 [Focus] => 0 [AuthorID] => 1804847 [AuthorName] => Butch Dalisay [SectionName] => Fashion and Beauty [SectionUrl] => fashion-and-beauty [URL] => ) [1] => Array ( [ArticleID] => 216821 [Title] => Fasten your seatbelts [Summary] => As long-time Penman readers know, I’m all for the greater use of Filipino in our national life, even at the cost of a little discomfort. We need a national language aside from English, and it’s way too late to push the clock back and start from scratch. But it doesn’t help Filipino – and Filipinos – to foist Filipino at its clunkiest and most formal on a hapless public that, like it or not, is much more familiar with plain English in most cases, whether they belong to the mousse or the mustasa crowd.
[DatePublished] => 2003-08-11 00:00:00 [ColumnID] => 135214 [Focus] => 0 [AuthorID] => 1804847 [AuthorName] => Butch Dalisay [SectionName] => Arts and Culture [SectionUrl] => arts-and-culture [URL] => ) [2] => Array ( [ArticleID] => 193087 [Title] => Bloggingly yours [Summary] => Let’s start the week with a little public service, shall we? I don’t think I’m in any danger of being mistaken for Rosa Rosal, and the awful truth is that, 95 percent of the time, I’m a barely sufferable, self-centered, short-tempered grouch who throws tantrums when he can’t get his noodles when and where he wants them. But now and then a biochemical glitch called compassion crosses my synapses, and I find myself mysteriously transfixed by someone else’s woes.
[DatePublished] => 2003-01-27 00:00:00 [ColumnID] => 135214 [Focus] => 0 [AuthorID] => 1804847 [AuthorName] => Butch Dalisay [SectionName] => Arts and Culture [SectionUrl] => arts-and-culture [URL] => ) ) )
DIONISIO ULEP
Array
(
    [results] => Array
        (
            [0] => Array
                (
                    [ArticleID] => 259173
                    [Title] => you touch people in a way that you can’t hope to do with your poetry or fiction
                    [Summary] => It’s hard to believe that I’ve been writing "Penman" for the STAR for four years now. The weeks go by very quickly when you’re writing a column–as soon as you finish one, the next is falling due. But it’s been an exhilarating and rewarding experience, hopefully not just for me but for my readers as well.

[DatePublished] => 2004-07-28 00:00:00 [ColumnID] => 135214 [Focus] => 0 [AuthorID] => 1804847 [AuthorName] => Butch Dalisay [SectionName] => Fashion and Beauty [SectionUrl] => fashion-and-beauty [URL] => ) [1] => Array ( [ArticleID] => 216821 [Title] => Fasten your seatbelts [Summary] => As long-time Penman readers know, I’m all for the greater use of Filipino in our national life, even at the cost of a little discomfort. We need a national language aside from English, and it’s way too late to push the clock back and start from scratch. But it doesn’t help Filipino – and Filipinos – to foist Filipino at its clunkiest and most formal on a hapless public that, like it or not, is much more familiar with plain English in most cases, whether they belong to the mousse or the mustasa crowd.
[DatePublished] => 2003-08-11 00:00:00 [ColumnID] => 135214 [Focus] => 0 [AuthorID] => 1804847 [AuthorName] => Butch Dalisay [SectionName] => Arts and Culture [SectionUrl] => arts-and-culture [URL] => ) [2] => Array ( [ArticleID] => 193087 [Title] => Bloggingly yours [Summary] => Let’s start the week with a little public service, shall we? I don’t think I’m in any danger of being mistaken for Rosa Rosal, and the awful truth is that, 95 percent of the time, I’m a barely sufferable, self-centered, short-tempered grouch who throws tantrums when he can’t get his noodles when and where he wants them. But now and then a biochemical glitch called compassion crosses my synapses, and I find myself mysteriously transfixed by someone else’s woes.
[DatePublished] => 2003-01-27 00:00:00 [ColumnID] => 135214 [Focus] => 0 [AuthorID] => 1804847 [AuthorName] => Butch Dalisay [SectionName] => Arts and Culture [SectionUrl] => arts-and-culture [URL] => ) ) )
abtest
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