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At a quarter to two this afternoon we were sitting in traffic in the Guadalupe interchange en route to Rockwell when a group of kids surrounded the taxi. There were about six of them, pre-teen, early teen, in T-shirts and shorts. One of them hopped onto the back of the van in front of us then somersaulted onto the roof of the taxi. The other kids stuck their faces in the windows and pounded on the doors. It was like being in Mad Mad: Beyond Thunderdome, or getting stuck in open auditions for a Glee remake of Fame, which is scarier. Then the kids started rattling the door handles and trying to open the doors, which were locked.

The driver looked straight ahead and refused to notice the rumpus. We have heard of thieves lurking in intersections, opening car doors and grabbing whatever they can (It’s Xmas). The kids may have been high on solvent. We were listening to Miles Davis and the Modern Jazz Giants (50th anniversary edition). It is hard to be fazed while listening to hard bop. Then the traffic started moving and the wild ones went off to harass another car. They could still be down in Guadalupe, freaking out random motorists.

Street artist fra.biancoshock installed an ingenious antistress station in a Milan bus shelter consisting of bubble wrap sheets in three stress relief dosages: 3 minutes, 5 minutes, and 10 minutes. via Laughing Squid

Offices could have a padded cell in which stressed-out employees can scream their lungs out, punch the wall, or break a set of cheap plates (bit more difficult with padding).

A bit Tulfoesque, but it could work. Remember when traffic cops with megaphones insulted people who were jaywalking? Was that effective?

Pavement driver ordered to wear ‘idiot’ sign in Cleveland
BBC News, 8 Nov 2012

A judge in Ohio has come up with an unusual punishment for a dangerous driver.

Hardin will also lose her licence for 30 days and pay a $250 fine.

The Boysen KNOxOUT Project: EDSA campaign has won the 2012 TBWA Disruption Award Grand Prix.


The urban renewal initiative was undertaken to lessen air pollution on the highway using large-scale artworks created with air-cleaning paint.

The Boysen KNOxOUT campaign beat 80 submissions from all over the world for the top prize. Congratulations to Jackie Ongking and the entire Project: EDSA team for bringing a great idea to life.

After an extremely stressful weekend (Our cat Saffy was at the vet to have some teeth extracted; she’s fine, we’re exhausted) we decompressed by visiting Uniqlo in MOA. There’s no therapy like thin Merino wool sweaters at Php990. Feeling pleased with ourselves, we lugged our purchases to the taxi queue and jumped in the first cab.

The driver was courteous and genial—he outlined the route he intended to take, for our approval. As we drove out of MOA that Korean song came on the radio and he noted the popularity of dancing Gangnam-style.

Typical weeknight on Edsa

At the traffic light we noticed that the driver was eating. Not popping snacks in his mouth, but eating a meal with a spoon and fork. Ordinarily we’d worry about the driver taking his mind off the road but traffic was moving slowly and he seemed alert enough. Then that song by No Doubt started playing on the radio and he started singing along.

To recap: Our driver was driving, eating, and singing at the same time. As we had been de-stressed by shopping we didn’t mind at all. If you recall that song from the 90s it goes, “Don’t speak…dadadada…Don’t tell me cause it hurts.”

Cheerfully the driver sang, “Don’t speak…dadadada…Don’t tell me cause it’s hurt.” Suddenly we remembered an entry in our collection of eccentric old lady stories.

Some years ago, our friend and his sisters were spending the weekend with their aunt at her farm. His sisters wanted to get pedicures. “Tita,” they asked their aunt, “May nagma-manicure ho ba dito?”

“Ah oo,” said Tita, “si Cely. Andiyan siya…andiyan. Sa phonebooks ko.”

The girls looked in the notebook next to the telephone. They looked under “C” for “Cely”. Nothing. They looked under “M” for “manicure”. Nothing.

“Tita, wala ho dito,” they reported.

“Andiyan yan,” their Tita insisted. “Hanapin ninyo diyan sa phonesbook.”

They looked under “P” for “pedicure” and “parlor”. No such listings. They tried “S” for “salon”. Nothing. “B” for “beauty parlor”. Wala talaga.

“Sigurado akong nariyan sa ponebooks,” said Tita, who was instructing the maids to prepare lunch. “Ilabas niyo na yung srim (shrimps).”

After going through all the possible listings they found Cely’s number at last. She was listed under “K” for “kuko” (nails).

The taxi ride to Bonifacio Global City took less than ten minutes, but in that short span our cabbie managed to cram current events, corruption, religion, and thought police into his spiel.

“There should be a computer that monitors what people are thinking!” he declared while AM radio announcers discussed the search for a replacement for the late Interior and Local Government Secretary Jesse Robredo. (We wondered if he’d seen Minority Report.) “So when a politician accepts a bribe, everyone will know about it, and he will be shamed.”

“If they are capable of shame,” we pointed out. “The corrupt seem pretty proud of themselves.”

“Then they should be assassinated!” the taxi driver said. “We finally get an honest official and he dies.”

“If only he’d taken the bus,” we mused.

“You know what happened?” He proceeded without waiting for an answer. “Robredo was a good man and devoutly religious so he had no fear. He put his life in his god’s hands and accepted his fate. He didn’t recognize danger, he thought he would be protected.” The taxi driver shook his head vehemently. “It’s bad people who worry about their safety. Because they have reason to! That’s why they’re always surrounded by security guards.”

In a snap the cabbie had solved the mystery of why the good die young and the bad live long.

“If they ask me to become President of the Philippines I’d say yes immediately,” he went on. “I would sign a contract. For six years everyone has to do exactly what I say. If at the end of those six years I haven’t fixed the Philippines, they should cut off my head!”

What a radical idea. Then he went on about how only a dictatorship would work in the Philippines because we are an insubordinate, hard-headed people who will break the rules if we can get away with it. We reached our destination before he could tell us how to establish a fascist state. He gave us the exact change, though, unlike many cabbies who claim to be nice.