Posted on

Massacre cooking

In 1971, as a “summer-fulltimer” activist of the Kabataang Makabayan (KM) working with MDP’s Radyo Pakikibaka, I was a regular visitor at the KM’s Boni Center along Quezon Avenue. As was the SOP in activist HQs during those times, the Boni Center prepared its daily fare of food for everyone who happened to be there at mealtimes–whether we were five or 10 or (sometimes, especially during busy protest seasons) 25 or more.

Masaker food
Massacre soup with cabbage and vermicelli

Boni Center had a finance and logistics team that, I supposed, worked with a thin and worn shoestring budget. I only assumed this, because occasionally, a team member would arrive with a big sack or two of vegetable rejects and cabbage peelings, solicited from their local public market contacts. Then we who happened to be around would help out in the kitchen, sorting out the still humanly edible pieces from those that were absolutely fit only for the pigsty cauldron. Continue reading “Massacre cooking”

Posted on

Understanding the spectrum of social squiggles

Some months ago, I attempted to conceptualize, in data-visualized form although still a kernel, of what I’ve been trying to jot down as raw notes for a blog piece. But since then, I haven’t had the chance to sit down to complete the piece.

Social squiggles through the years
Social squiggles through the years

Thus, you people are stuck with the same raw graph I posted last May. I’m sure you are curious as to what the squiggly lines of different colors represent. Let this be a little exercise for interested readers to complete the concept, without my having to launch into treatise mode. Continue reading “Understanding the spectrum of social squiggles”

Posted on

A nifty little exercise on the power of culture

There is this scenario that often happens among friends, but could also be set up as a nifty little exercise. It goes this way:

A group, say, composed of A, B, C, and so on, gather in a place where they could listen to each other’s jokes. Maybe it’s in a party, or a drinking session, or more effectively at a comedy bar. They invite Z, who doesn’t know the script; everybody or most of them do, anyway. Continue reading “A nifty little exercise on the power of culture”