I’ve always thought it ironic that Dumaguete has brownouts every so often, seeing as we have quite enough geothermal power in the region to keep us humming merrily along. Reading about the Energy Development Corporation needing to cut down trees to get access to more of our geothermal resources in Valencia was particularly troubling. I’m going to have to disregard the editorial’s call for less emotion, more information; beyond the importance of facts and figures, we really should care about something that can’t fight for itself.
Having grown up on a campus filled with trees, I’ve always had an affinity for them. One of my most treasured memories was convincing my father to build me a swing, which he did, attaching it to one of the giant trunks of a star apple tree in our backyard. I was on that swing all day everyday, errant falling caterpillars bedamned. It’s why I have very little affinity for giant swathes of houses in subdivisions that sit baking under the sun with absolutely no shade over them. It’s just too barren, too soulless.
The mentality seems to be that trees will grow back. So what if we’ll cut one down? We can always plant more. This is a little too genocidal for my taste. We don’t say it’s okay to off a few hundred humans, we’re always procreating after all, do we?
The Syfy Channel, home of the modern-day classic we call Sharknado, is coming out with Dead 7, a movie where a world infested by zombies can only be saved by members of the Backstreet Boys, N’Sync, 98 Degrees and O-Town. The trailer is up on Buzzfeed, and is warming the cockles of my very hard, very poppy heart. It’s like the Nineties suddenly exploded all over my weekend and everything is coming up roses. I am lighting candles and clutching my beads praying that this is legit, and not some crazy April Fool’s Day prank. The only way this could get better is if the Backstreet Boys announced a tour with a reunited N’Sync and I scored front row tickets to the show.
I can’t function right now. I can’t. That is Howie Durough, with a gun, and Joey Fatone with a grizzled beard, a pipe and all the whiskey you would like. Also, zombies. Squint and you’ll find more boyband members. Bless you, Syfy. Bless you.
Kim Kardashian, reality “star,” and thirsty mother of two decided to commemorate International Women’s Day by tweeting an old (possibly Photoshopped) selfie of herself in nothing but her birthday suit last week. The Kardashians have made a killing off of leaving nothing to the imagination, so really this was just another day in the life of needing attention, having children and being actual role models be damned.
Because Twitter is a big fat pot of ever roiling opinion, it caused quite a tempest in a teapot. My favourite smackdown came from the glorious Bette Midler, who basically said the only way Kim can show us a part of her we’ve yet to see is if she now swallows a camera. Miss Bette don’t play. She did have a point: the only thing the Kardashians haven’t yet done is bend over and cough for all and sundry.
Do guards still check your bag with a stick before they let you in the building?
The first time I went shopping in Toronto was an eye-opener. I’d gone in all ready to let a stranger have a peek at my personal effects when I realized there were no human security guards at the entrance, just a pair of sensors. No muss, no fuss, no line-up of people aching to escape the heat and bask in the simple joy of free air-conditioning. Sweet first world democracy, renew thy force!
While freeing and definitely less of an annoyance, I started missing the kitsch after a bit. It does seem lacking in personality. What, no apathetic, disaffected greeting from someone paid to ensure I wasn’t bringing in weapons of mass destruction? Boring.