Why I heart Solenn

Yesterday was a rotten day weather-wise, but all Sen. Tito Sotto and the others who claimed to have been victimized by “cyber-bullies” probably saw was sunshine.

Well, why not? Despite strong opposition from various groups, the Cybercrime Prevention Act of 2012 took effect yesterday, which meant anything you say and post on the Internet from now on could be used and held against you in a court of law.

Beware, the government is saying. One wrong post and you’re off showering with the hoodlums and rapists in your friendly neighborhood city jail. Unless you learn to keep your opinion to yourself, the government will make your life more miserable than it already is, and not through additional taxes.

Solenn Heussaff: I rather have haters.

As of yesterday, nine petitions have been filed with the Supreme Court asking for a TRO on the implementation of RA 10175. Even re-electionist Sen. Chiz Escudero took a break from dating Heart Evangelista earlier this week to file a bill seeking amendments to the law. (Ooopps! Is that a libelous statement? God, no…) Results are still forthcoming.

Of course, if you’re on the other side of the fence — meaning you have either become a target of these noisy armchair revolutionaries, these gutless fucks who hide behind their MacBooks, these effin’ clowns who think they know everything, or just fed up with the know-it-all attitude  common among members of the Facebook Generation — you’ll be stroking your massive boner endlessly with this law. Finally, you’d say. Something to make these morons shut up.

Perhaps there is really a need to sanitize the Internet (kiddie smut, WTF!!!). But, hey, at the expense of a fundamental right?

As Solenn Heussaff so succinctly put it during our dinner last night (actually, on Twitter):  “I rather have haters and people bash me than have no right to freedom of speech. There are more important things to be taken care of in the Philippines than cyber-bullying.”

Right, Solenn. That’s why I love you.


J.Lo’s ‘big break’ & a big-ass snake

In the 1997 film Anaconda, Jennifer Lopez’s character, co-leader of a crew shooting a documentary about a long lost Indian tribe on the Amazon River, quips: “This film was supposed to be my big break, now it has turned into a disaster.” Or something like that. Whatever.  The first thought that came to my head was, my god, she might as well have been talking about the movie.

Anaconda is as good (or bad) as any generic monster movie can get: A giant creature that seemed to have slithered out of the dark depths of the House of Representatives is wrecking havoc on a hapless film crew; eventually, of course, despite fatalities, the humans prevail. Simply that and nothing more. The movie is as predictable as tomorrow’s sunrise. And yet why did I spend one fine Saturday morning watching it? Was it to enjoy Jennifer Lopez long before she became J.Lo and American Idol and a string of forgettable pop songs ruined her for me? Was it my morbid fascination with stupid people getting chewed up by CGI monsters? Was it Kari Wuhrer, who was late-night love and entertainment in those long-ago years of raging hormones?

None of the above. I watched because of one thing: nostalgia. I remember many after-school hours during my high school and college days when I would while away time inside a movie house, alone, getting lost in the worlds offered by randomly chosen movies. (Those were pre-Cineplex days, so I stayed in the cinema for as long as I wanted, sometimes just dozing. Yeah. Life was sweeter and simpler back then.) Anaconda was one of the countless movies I saw that, for some crazy-ass reason neither Einstein nor aliens could probably explain, made an impact on my young impressionable mind. So I spent Saturday morning in front of the boob tube trying to be that kid again to relive the feeling. It was a pleasant experience.

Last night one of the cable channels was showing The Big Hit, another blast from the past. Although I caught only the first 20 minutes of it, what it — and Anaconda — reminded me of was clear: that once upon a time, happiness was a quiet afternoon movie date with myself after school.

Little zombies

Got these in the mail today. Cool little zombie stickers that my good friend Annarki Manson sent me from Cebu. They came with a scribbled note that is nothing if not sweet, proof that she is as thoughtful as she is talented. Pretty too, if you’re into braids and multiple facial piercings. (Haven’t met her personally; she’s one of those awesome people I got to know through Multiply, back when Multiply was cool.)

Okay. My plan to Occupy Cebu is long overdue.

Holy crap!

The two movies I’m excited to see this year have Justin Timberlake in them!

But screw Justin (although admittedly I think he has some decent acting chops in him, like in Black Snake Moan). I’m gonna see these movies for the chicks, man. Mila Kunis and Cameron Diaz… especially Cameron Diaz. I was in high school when I first saw her, and she was seducing Jim Carrey in The Mask. We had some pretty wild nights in my head after that.