Showing posts with label remarkable ordinary pinoys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label remarkable ordinary pinoys. Show all posts

Monday, January 14, 2013

Claro Claridad: Jumped into Ice Covered Lake to Save 2 Kids

Okay, listen to this.

What if like a god tell you 'Ey, I'll give you a chance to be a hero. Not like a Jose Rizal hero, okay? Just a hero like... two to three families will forever feel happy that you were once alive.'

Aight. Not bad, right? So, the next question is... what do you have to do to earn the respect and affection of two to three families?

So, this god will answer, 'You need to jump into a lake covered with ice to save two kids that will run away with their family after being saved and not even thank you.'

Here's what I'll say... put my d!ck in your ear and fu$% whatever you hear you amoeba product stinking piece of $h!t. Why? Why the f$%k will I do that? Tell me... why... would I ever offer my life to someone who don't even have the fu$%in' balls to man up to their d@mn stupidity?

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Jose "Pepe" Rizal: The Pinoy with Gigantic B@lls

The only photo of Jose Rizal that shows him smiling

It’s gonna sound crazy but Jose Rizal is underrated. He has become a nuisance whose novels subject many students to failure and many sleepless nights. It’s not fair because Rizal is beyond badass. The fuckin’ guy got some balls.

Jose Rizal’s got a huge pair. Gigantic in fact. It’s so big, he has enough for the entire fuckin’ country.

Rizal’s balls have the same size as fuckin’ Mars that got pumped with salt and water that it got packed with so much fat that it would take a lifetime of surgery to get it all out. His balls is so fuckin’ big that he decided to publicly denounce Catholicism, almost singlehandedly challenged the country that was conquering the Philippines with nothing but an effin’ pen and paper and put in sexual undertones in the two novels that managed to find its way to the High School curriculum… and this was the 1800s, women had to wear seven layers of garments believing it would make them pure.

Monday, December 17, 2012

Hernando Guanlao: The Book Guy



Image Source: Philippine Daily Inquirer

The president of my high school and about half of the teachers there hated me. I don’t know why. Actually, I do know why but I just don’t give a fine f$%^. However, to serve as an intro to this piece, I will recall one of the many reasons they would have loved to have killed me, mutilate me and then sit on my lifeless body while laughing.

One of the things I clearly remember as the source of their hatred is my consistent record of reading books. Yes, they hated me for reading books. Alright, I need to explain this a bit.

I liked and still like reading books. Most of our teachers were fresh graduates and most of them weren’t good. They were so bad, they inspired me… to sleep. I developed an unprecedented skill of in the middle of lessons. But I passed my exams because I got everything they were teaching through books. When I got sent to the Principal’s office, I told the Principal they’ll save money if they just give us books and fire the teachers.

I got suspended. I spent my free time reading more books… and watching Voltes V.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Efren Penaflorida: First Pinoy CNN Hero of the Year

Originally posted on February 2010
With the mother nature’s continuous landscaping project in the country, I feel morally obligated to mention at least one heartwarming story of heroism we have going for no other reason than to make us feel some semblance of hope that all is not lost.
Efren Penaflorida – one of the toughest and most undersung heroes in Philippine history, and a crazy kickass teacher who routinely (and boldly) goes where no man has gone before.
Efren Penaflorida posing before his billboard in LA, California

Juan Pajota: The Pinoy More B@dass Than Chuck Norris

Originally posted on February 26, 2010
In 1942, Japanese where kicking the Americans’ @$$es so hard, $h!t were starting to come out of their mouths. The Japs bombed Pearl Harbor down to every single-cell life form and are swinging their seemingly Sauron-forged samurais on malaria-stricken American soldiers in the Philippines. The Japs ended up having 75,000 American and Pilipino Prisoners of War. Man, they were pumped!… and shocked.
The Japs believed (still do) that captivity is way below hell’s standards. They would rather die and suffer the consequence of committing the unforgivable sin than suffer in shame on the hands of the enemies. They were at their wits end on what to do with the 75K POWs they had. They didn’t have resources and certainly no desire to take care of them. So they figured, why not make them walk 90 kms, from Bataan to Cabanatuan, just because they freakin’ feel like doin’ so and while they were at it, why not hit them, stab them, cut their freakin’ throats and heads, shoot them, rape them, and refuse to give them food or water for a week. That’ll kill them, right? Or not.
Bataan Death March 1942
On the Bataan Death March, approximately 54,000 of the 75,000 prisoners reached their destination. The death toll of the march is difficult to assess as thousands of captives were able to escape from their guards. All told, approximately 5,000–10,000 Filipino and 600–650 American prisoners of war died before they could reach Camp O'Donnell
Apparently some 53,000 had the ability to not die and it enraged the Japs even more. So they turned those left alive to slaves making them work, giving them no food or water or medicine until they die. Hitler would have been put to shame.
By 1945, Americans were pissed off. They were shamed enough, that’s a given so they had nothing to lose. So Lt. Gen. Walter Krueger, assigned the 6th Ranger Battalion stationed in the Pacific to prepare themselves for a mathaf$%k!n’ raid.
Lt. Col. Henry A. Mucci, a 1936 West Point graduate, was all set to send his men and him to infiltrate the Japs camp about 30 miles behind enemy lines, assault the Cabanatuan POW Camp, liberate the prisoners and return them safely to U.S. lines before the Japanese could mount a counterattack.
One man, though, came forward and said “Yo, no disrespect, but don’t do that unless you’re on a fu$%!n mission to bury your men and what is left of your honor 80ft below the ground.” That man is JUAN PAJOTA.
Juan "Hardcore" Pajota
Mucci didn’t listen at first and no one can blame him, they know for a fact that a “Kill-All” prisoner of war policy, ordering all Japanese prison guards to execute American POWs rather than let them fall into US hands, was in effect. The order was to kill every single POW in any way possible – mass bombing, poisonous smoke, poisons, drowning, decapitation, rape, pluck out every single bodily organ they have while they were alive. It doesn’t freakin’ matter as long as it’s done.
Aight, that’s screwed.
Pajota, however, knew that an unprepared, unplanned raid driven by anger instead of strategy will only make matters worse. Not only will the POWs be killed, the soldiers that are supposed to rescue the prisoners will die as well. Pajota is not about to let that $h!t fly, not on his freakin’ watch.
Americans had to listen. This is, afterall, the h@rd@ss m0th3rf#$%3r who, when the Americans and Filipino forces surrendered in Bataan decided he ain’t gonna kiss anyone’s ass nor does he plan on getting his country and himself @$$fu#$ed. With virtually no weapons, no food, no money, he used pure badassery in raiding Japanese positions in as many places as he could go to. He burned those chinkey-eyed TV-inventing m0th3rfu#$3rs alive, kicked them in their tiny b@ll$, and broke their necks with his bare hands left, right and effin’ center.
Cabanatuan Great Raid Map
Cabanatuan Great Raid Map
Other generals agreed his ass is as tough as superman’s insignia that they promoted him as captain of the guerrillas in Nueva Ecija, his hometown. Well, he owned the place to the core. He made sure he gets to know every person, place, street, house, establishment, animal, insect, effin’ dust like the back of his freakin’ hand. He knew the place so well, he could go around the town through backflips without stopping with his eyes closed and a cigarette on his effin’ mouth!
The Americans said “Aight, you had us at effin’ hello. You lead us.” Well, Pajota came to represent. With the help of another badass Pinoy guerrilla army leader, Eduardo Joson, he asked the villagers to help them cover these towering Americans so they could sneak in deep into enemy lines. Pajota knew the terrains, he knew where to go when to go. They walked, crawled, rolled on the safest routes Pajota knew and the villagers took them in like effin’ streetkids every time they needed some rest and food. The villagers even agreed to device ways on how to keep the dogs from barking at the unfamiliar Americans. After several days of traveling, Pajota had the Americans in striking distance of the camp.
POWs on Carts
POWs on Carts
Okay, just keep in mind that this was the ‘40s. M-1 Garand rifle and M-1 carbine were considered a killing machine. Getting new resources in a place like the Philippines would take a week. Well, they didn’t have a week. They didn’t even have an effin’ day! Mucci had to carry a f$%&in’ .45 caliber pistol to the raid. Outstanding.
While moving the Americans, coordinating with locals, strategizing the raid, communicating with American generals, Pajota also managed to obtain the latest intelligence, collect enough carabao carts to transport liberated POWs too weak to walk back and prepare enough food for several hundred men. Mucci was itching to bring those Japs down but Pajota asked for one more day in order to gather additional intelligence and to allow time for a large force of Japanese transiting the area to depart.
On January 30th, the plan went into action.
The main Ranger force planned to hit the camp from two sides. The camp was relatively lightly guarded but a large force of 8,000 Japanese was camped on the far side of the river. Pajota didn’t see this as a problem, they can kill the holy h3ll out of these Japs so he volunteered his men to defend the bridge and hold off the Japanese counterattack as long as possible. Pajota got his men into position, wired the bridge with explosives, and prepared for a fight. On Pajota’s recommendation, a P-61 night fighter was scheduled to fly overhead just prior to the attack as a distraction.
At 1945 hours, Murphy fired the first shot with his almighty .45 caliber pistol, indicating 2nd Platoon of Company F was in position at the rear of the camp, the signal for the attack to commence. The Rangers went into rage like demented dragons in sugar overload.
Pajota’s men were cool like James Dean on a Calvin Klein photoshoot. They fired on the Japanese battalion in the bivouac next to Cabu Creek while the Ranger bazooka teams knocked out two tanks and a truck.
In less than 15 minutes, resistance inside the POW compound had been eliminated. They rescued 513 US POWs and were loaded up onto wooden carts which were pulled by water buffalos and driven by Pilipino villagers procured by Pajota and his men
You think that was it? Hell no.
The Japs swarmed the bridge where Pajota’s men were positioned. Pajota detonated the explosives but that didn’t destroy the bridge. It, however, created enough damage to not allow any tank to safely cross. Well, Japs were simply on it to death. Remember, they would rather burn in hell than surrender so they charged with no other end in mind that kill someone or kill themselves trying.
Pajota and his men were outnumbered – 1000 is to 1. Pajota didn’t give a f$%&. They shoot every Japs on sight and killed anyone who comes close with their bare hands. One Filipino soldier even took down four tanks. They didn’t stop until they Americans were safe. There were 21 Filipinos wounded in the battle and 4 Americans were killed, while 523 Japanese soldiers were killed or wounded.
I wouldn’t care to mention the recognition they got from the Americans because as far as I am concerned, no recognition is even close to the vicinity of what they should get for what they did for a race that, we have to admit it, SOMETIMES, still looks down on Pinoys. Well, they look down on each other, what do Pinoys expect? Pajota and his men risked their lives, the people in the village risked their lives all to save the POWs.
Because of Pajota, his men and the local villagers, 513 families got their son/husband/brother back into their home. A prospect they almost gave up on.
That’s one hell of an act, one hell of a heart, one hell of a spirit, in one hell of a man. You don’t get any more hardcore and any kinder than that.

He Gave Up His Life For The Man Who Tried To Kill Him

Originally posted August 15, 2010

 

I got an email from a reader requesting that I lessen my profanities. I thank you, dear reader, for your polite request and I promise that I will try my best to lessen it. Now, that is not sarcasm. That is a sincere statement. However, I cannot completely take it out because that’s just how I am. Writing otherwise will not be remaining true. I made a vow to just be true and tell the truth all the time. Pretty big vow, eh. That is not to say I will not try to accommodate your request, as I have said – I will try. Oh, thank you for reading my blog. Much love.
I am dying to tell you more earth-shattering achievements of Pinoys in the international scene, entertainers who flirt with the glitz of eyesight-shattering limelight or hardcore Filipino athletes who completely flip out in their world record breaking performances. However, this week’s feature involves the highest form of heroism – volunteers. Now, don’t go and say “I don’t know, man, volunteering for UN and *$%# (I’m trying to avoid cursing. I’ll get there give me time. – Ed) like that, I think it’s gay.”
First, there is nothing wrong with being gay. Second, volunteers are the bravest effers to ever walk the earth. Imagine giving up the comfort that city life could bring (geez, no internet for a year except when needed. Why don’t you just kill me?) to serve the basic needs of people you don’t even know and can never give anything back to you. These volunteers don’t spend their life punching people in their faces until they bleed to death nor their free time signing autographs but they are the ones who walk into people’s lives to feed them, clothe them, teach them how to read and write, and show them some amount of kindness that is so hard to find in this world. Now, THAT IS HARDCORE.
Richard Michael R. Fernando, SJ was a Jesuit scholar that was assigned in Cambodia in a technical school for landmine victims during his regency to work. Do understand, he doesn’t get anything out of this except the right to take a bath, sleep occasionally and eat just enough to survive but he was cool with all that. In fact, he chose that vocation. Operative word, CHOSE.
richard michael fernando, sj
richard michael fernando, sj
It was October 17, 1996 when Richard woke up to another day of service. You know, feed the hungry, attend to the sick, have some fun with the students, just hang. All of a sudden, one student named Sarom threatened to release a hand grenade after being asked to leave the school. It wasn’t a bluff because he actually had a grenade in his hands.
This is a technical school, there are hundreds upon hundreds of students in that place all hoping against all hope they could learn a thing or two so they could have a better future, maybe have three meals a day instead of one every other day. Really, a place with hopeless kids with simple dreams. Richard didn’t even think effin’ twice on what he should do. He grasped the hands of this angry student pleading for him to not take out the pin and drop the grenade. Sarom didn’t give a $%#@ and just dropped the grenade.
$hit right?
Richie, being the hardcore, fearless volunteer that he was didn’t even blink. He was ready, willing and proved to be able to save hundreds of people around him INCLUDING the student who wanted to kill everyone.
Richard fell over the grenade. That’s not all. Just to seal the deal, he grasped it on his hand so tight to make sure no one else gets hurt. The grenade, of course, exploded and Richard died. NO ONE ELSE DID.
Saving one person from death by covering a grenade with your body is something that most mere mortals will never do in their lives, even if they have nine but for Richard, it was a natural thing.
That incident happened in 1996 and it is sad that very few people know about this. Richard’s story is exactly the kind that should be told and retold until it penetrates to every living soul’s effin’ body and lands straight to the heart. He makes being Pinoy totally cool, don’t y’all agree?  This loser blog can’t do much though, except write about it and hope against all hope, someone is reading and listening.
*special thanks to http://fonsetculmen.blogspot.com/2006/09/prayer-in-honor-of-richard-michael-r.html