How Do I Hate Thee?

by: julsitos

How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.
I hate thee with such passion that neither
grace nor penance can soothe my discordant days.
And I gladly hope your head shall wither
impaled by knives, your face grey and beaten
your neck slitted like a bastard calf
your nose hacked in two, your eyes gouged, half-eaten
your cursed breast sliced in half
then burnt to cinders and fed to the birds,
your toes avulsed, your legs be quartered,
your arms chopped and divided to thirds,
your flesh to rot, your bones be scattered.
Then I shall dance on your twilight breath,
then shall but love you better after your death.

The Hamburger Monologues

The evening was nearing its peak and yet the place was still full of Koreans. I'm thankful that these bunch of Mongoloids (as in the race) are actually helping local businesses thrive. They sit down in groups creating their own small hermit kingdoms with nary a Filipino face in sight to break the monotony of the scene. Despite their being immiscible to local society, they provide body heat in areas where Filipinos tend to thin out. And that's a good thing.

As soon as I ordered my hamburger, I sat down at the counter observing my surroundings and took note of the culinary play that was unfolding in front of me.

I was surprised when the mestiza server took my order. She was petite and perky just like those colegiala partyistas we see on TV. With a grey printed shirt that hugged her chest, she opened the cashbox and counted its contents. The dainty limp of her wrist betrayed all the social graces her aristocratic lineage afforded her. The girl smiled but merely kept to herself. Not another word passed between us although my eyes were finishing in its deliberation. There I was, hoping for more owner-customer interaction but from the looks of her smug countenance, only my eyes did the talking.

The booth was manned by these two mestizo kids and one grungy rocker. Let me indulge for a bit on the two mestizo kids, one un fille aux sang chinoise and the other un salaud aux sang castille. Both are probably children of the landed gentry, the local aristocracy. Why on earth would they put up a hamburger joint is bewildering enough. Why not a luxury car dealership or a boutique? I guess having a hamburger kiosk that serves margaritas is hip and fits with the liquor-guzzling, party-crazy yuppy crowd- the crowd these petit aristocrats wants to serve. Still, it is laudable that they are filled with the entrepreneurial spirit to plant their mark in the culinary scene of this city, a mark for which they want to go against the grain that has already stained the youth of the rich folks in this province stereotyped as lazy bums who do nothing all day but play golf, eat sate babis and watch the sugarcane stalks of their fathers grow. Most, I daresay, grow fat in their parents' largess while indulging in superficial and inconsequential occupations like design, cock breeding and horticulture, or worse, become another señorito of the hacienda overseeing the fertilizer deliveries.

In doing this aforementioned business, I can only see a "Jacko" Effect (Jacko from the movie Namets!) which unfortunately does not bode well for its proprietors. The Jacko Effect means that rich kids with enough disposable cash invest in a business that needs a lot of hands-on expertise. They may love the job for a while but soon the interest of continuing and innovating the business wanes and in the end, the business either will fold up or will deteriorate into one greasy spoon joint. They may have a surge of profits in the beginning but if in the latter days the owners' penchant for cold San Migs, clubbing and entertaining friends should eat up the profits, theirs is a business waiting for its untimely demise. Either they WILL devote their entire time to the business (supervising 8a.m. to 5p.m., going to food seminars, etc.) or they will fry the franchise to its doom. I hope not. I sincerely hope not. I wish them all the success in the world... for the sake of those yummy burgers.