Owning A St. Longinus Paso - A Story of Mishaps and Missteps

So, I thought owning a paso or a lifesize statue intended for a Good Friday procession would be all solemn reverence and pious reflection.

Turns out, it's more like adopting a very large, very dramatic, and surprisingly high-maintenance toddler made of wood.

It all started with the "Selection of Subject and Iconography."

I envisioned a stoic Jesus, maybe a bit dusty, but radiating divine forgiveness.

Instead, I ended up with St Longinus, a centurion whose life and conversion we can relate to.

To the uninformed, St Longinus was the centurion who pierced the side of our Lord while hanging on the cross.

He was nearly blind and was healed when the blood and water from Jesus fell into his eyes.

It was he who claimed: "Indeed, this was the son of God." (Mark 15:39.

After the miracle, when he got his eyes restored to 20/20 vision ... he was converted, left the Roman army, and became a monk.

There, he was arrested and martyred because he refused to renounce his faith; his teeth were forced out, and his tongue was cut off.

But miracle of miracles, even though his tongue was cut off, he managed to speak clearly and managed to destroy some idols in the presence of the governor.

The governor, who was made blind by the demons that came from the idols, had his sight restored when St. Longinus was beheaded because his blood came in contact with the governor's eyes.

Back to our topic ... my only problem with our statue was that his mournful expression looked suspiciously like he'd just stubbed his feet with his spear instead of Jesus' side.

The person who sculpted the statue (though he sounded defensive) assured me it was not mournful.

He said it was more of "anguish," but I swear I saw St Longinus roll his eyes when he said that.

What more if I dare say point-blank that the statue's eyes are squinting -strabismus to some ... cross-eyed to others. Naawa na nga ako sa kanya at hindi ko na sinabi.

Then came the "Budget and Acquisition." Let's say my dreams of buying more exotic fruit trees in our orchard have been replaced by the stark reality of "Caro/Karosa Expenses ... and don't forget the statue expenses."

I knew the carriage was important, but I wasn't prepared for the sheer artistry (and cost) of it all.

My carpenters, who were doubling as the architect and electrician, Michael and Alfred, did have a blanket authority on everything ... I was worried about their utter and complete disregard for right angles, but they assured me their creation was "divinely inspired."

And the electricity! Oh, the electricity! I wanted subtle, ethereal lighting.

Michael, however, installed enough wattage to power a small city. 'The brighter the better.

Alfred and Franz agreed without hesitation.

He claimed it was "to illuminate the centurion's pain and ambivalence (he pierced Jesus remember ... but he regretted doing it) for all to see!"

I suspect it was to blind the competition.

Then we have to commission a camarera who will decorate and maintain the pasos (religious images) and carrozas (floats),

My daughter-in-law Shyla, volunteered for the job; I readily accepted it for sheer lack of budget. Tipid tips baga.

I know her. When she put her heart into it ... she delivers. Bravo Shy!

And you know Michael, he is a Jack of all Trades... he wants to dip his feet in the perplexing world of camarista. Can I stop him? I can't.

But in fairness to them, their tandem and collab showed promise. Purrfect.

"Vesting and Design" was another adventure.

Forget haute couture; this is holy couture. My St Longinus now sports a crested helmet, specialized armor, a decorated belt, and a red or crimson cloak that looked so heavy.

I'm convinced Enrike, my designer, had put that one on purpose - to get that much-needed oomph to distract the somber mood of the procession while everybody was reciting the rosary.

Don't even get me started. The cloak was so long, it doubled as a tripping hazard for Franz, David, and Bonjo - our costaleros (the teenage volunteers who pushed and pulled the carroza).

Which brings me to "Logistics and Manpower." Finding skilled sculptors was easy compared to finding costaleros willing to risk their spines for my slightly-off-kilter paso.

I ended up bribing all of them with promises of a free tuna sandwich, a bottle of coke and my absolution.

And now, the grand finale: "Maintenance and Tradition." Turns out, owning a paso isn't a one-day-a-year gig.

It's a year-round commitment to dusting, polishing, and praying that Michael and Alfred's "divinely inspired" carriage doesn't collapse mid-procession.

So, as Good Friday approaches, I stand before my St. Longinus, and a mix of pride and sheer terror swirls around my head.

Will the carriage hold? Will the lights short-circuit? Will the costaleros revolt? Will St Longinus' head fall off when passing deep potholes in the road? Only time will tell.

But one thing's for sure: this Holy Week, I'll be praying harder than ever before.

Not just for forgiveness, but for a good chiropractor to attend to my back pains and muscle aches.

And maybe, just maybe, I can concentrate on and buy more Hibiscus varieties to brighten and encourage the mangoes ... the mangosteen, the rambutan, the lanzones of the world to finally flower and bear abundant fruits next month.

They need to make a good income.

I know Michael will demand a change of costume, again, and he is already hinting at his extravagant plans.

He thinks St Longinus will need a more elaborate costume, something not seen in Ten Commandments or Jes

Politicians And The Holy Week

 

Fasten your seatbelt, folks, because it's that time of year again - a time for It's Showtime! 

The time when our esteemed Filipino politicians, fresh from their taxpayer-funded vacations (ahem, "official business"), emerge from their air-conditioned bunkers to grace us with their presence during Holy Week.

Ah, Good Friday. 

A day of solemn reflection, of contemplating sacrifice, of... spotting which politician is wearing the most expensive barong tagalog at the Visita Iglesia.

You see them, piously clutching their rosaries (probably blessed by a cardinal they flew in on a private jet), their faces etched with what might be remorse, or could just be indigestion from the lavish Lenten buffet they had after posing for photos with the poor.

Uso pa ba ang fasting sa kanila ... oo nga ... iwas karne muna sila at mag-isda na lang, but what do you in their tables - lobsters, Japanese snow crabs, king salmon, bluefin tuna, and king crabs.

Maundy Thursday? That's when they really shine! 

Remember Jesus washing the feet of his disciples?

Our politicians take that lesson to heart... by having their bodyguards wash their feet after a long day of shaking hands with the commoners (while discreetly checking their Rolexes, of course).

And the question on everyone's mind: do we see genuine repentance in their eyes? 

Do we witness a profound transformation, a shedding of their corrupt skin like a molting snake? 

Well, let's just say the only thing they're shedding is their campaign slogans from the last election.

The truth is, for many of our politicians, Holy Week is just another photo op, another chance to remind the masses that they, too, are "devout" and "one of us." 

It's a carefully choreographed performance, designed to distract from the fact that they'll be back to their old tricks the moment Easter Sunday rolls around.

After all, why let a little thing like the suffering of Christ interfere with a good, old-fashioned kickback scheme? 

Why examine your conscience when you can examine your Swiss bank account instead?

So, have we become desensitized? Perhaps. 

But maybe, just maybe, we're starting to see through the charade. 

Maybe we're starting to realize that true repentance isn't about wearing a somber face for a week, but about living a life of integrity, honesty, and service to the people.

But hey, who am I kidding? Pass the kakanin, please. 

It's a long weekend, after all. 

And besides, the next election is just around the corner. Time to start polishing those halos!

Miyerkules Santo Digital Age

Get ready, ladies and gentlemen: Let’s explore the dark side of Spy Wednesday, or Miyerkules Santo: Ang Araw ng Pagtataksil (The Day of Betrayal), as we call it in the Philippines.

You know, that day when Judas, the OG frenemy, sold out Jesus for the price of thirty bucks (inflation, people!).

We thought all the while that betrayal, a double-crosser, a snake, and a rat were so 2026-ish ... we can even trace thi
Well, Judas isn't the only traitor in the history books. We Filipinos, with our telenovela-level drama, know a thing or tws phenomenon even in the year of our Lord.
o about betrayal, especially when it comes to politics.

It's practically our national sport, right after basketball and complaining about traffic.

Ah yes, Miyerkules Santo—that sacred midweek plot twist where betrayal gets its own holiday special.

Not Christmas, not Easter Sunday, but that juicy, uncomfortable episode in the middle where someone whispers, “Magkano ba talaga?” and suddenly loyalty has a price tag.

Judas walked so modern traitors could run—preferably into a press conference.

Let’s be honest: if Judas were Filipino today, he wouldn’t need 30 pieces of silver.

He’d accept a consultancy contract, a vague “advisory role,” and maybe a ribbon-cutting ceremony in his honor.

“Hindi po ito pagtataksil,” he’d say, adjusting his barong. “Strategic realignment lang po.”

And really, can we blame him? In a country where betrayal comes in family size, barkada bundle, and government-issued packaging, Judas is just the prototype.

The beta version. We’ve upgraded betrayal into an art form—complete with sound effects, background music, and a tearful monologue.

Take the modern Pinoy traitor archetype:

First, there’s the Political Chameleon. Campaign season: “Para sa bayan!” After elections: “Para sa budget.”

They switch sides faster than a jeepney swerves to pick up a passenger who didn’t even wave.

Loyalty? Optional. Position? Permanent goal.

Then there’s the Family Plot Twist. The kind where you raise someone with love, sacrifice, and giving him unlimited rice, only for them to grow up and say, “Ma, Pa, wala kayong ambag sa buhay ko.”

Ah, yes. The Judas Deluxe Edition. No silver needed—just Wi-Fi and audacity.

And let’s not forget the Keyboard Makabayan. Brave online, mysterious offline.

When it comes to the West Philippine Sea, they suddenly develop a PhD in “Alternative Facts.”

“Hindi naman atin ’yan,” they type confidently, as if geography is a matter of opinion and not, you know… maps.

It’s betrayal with a Wi-Fi signal—fast, loud, and completely detached from reality.

Of course, betrayal in the Filipino context isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s subtle.

It’s the friend who leaks your secrets “by accident.” The coworker who smiles at you but forwards your mistakes to the boss with bullet points. The relative who says, “Concern lang ako,” right before ruining your reputation at the reunion.

Spy Wednesday, then, isn’t just about Judas. It’s about all the little betrayals we’ve normalized.

The everyday sellouts. The casual disloyalties. The moments we choose convenience over conviction.

But here’s the twist ending: unlike Judas, most modern traitors don’t even feel guilty.

No dramatic remorse, no returning the silver, no existential crisis. Just a press release, a denial, and maybe a sponsored post.

“Miyerkules Santo: Ang Araw ng Pagtataksil.”

Or in today’s terms: just another Wednesday

he First Three Months of Utter Existential Dread

Ah, April Fools' Day.

That one day of the year when we collectively agree to lower our standards for humor and embrace the art of the mildly inconvenient prank.

But let's be honest, is April Fools' Day really about harmless fun, or is it a desperate attempt to inject some excitement into a year that's already three months deep into a soul-crushing monotony?

Think about it. January: the month of broken resolutions and post-holiday depression.

February: a fleeting glimpse of romance overshadowed by the crushing weight of societal expectations.

March: a vague sense of impending spring that never quite materializes.

By the time April rolls around, we're all so bored and disillusioned that we're willing to believe anything, just for a brief moment of distraction.

That's why April Fools' Day works. We're not laughing with the pranksters; we're laughing at ourselves for being so desperate for entertainment.

Was April specifically designated as a break to keep the next month exciting by making jokes and pranks?

Probably not. But it should be.

After all, what better way to prepare for the rest of the year than by lowering your expectations and embracing the absurdity of existence?

The first three months were a dismal flop and boring. Absolutely.

But that's not April's fault. April is just trying to pick up the pieces, to slap a Band-Aid on the gaping wound of our collective ennui.

So, this April Fools' Day, don't just pull a prank on your friends. Pull a prank on reality itself.

Tell your boss you're quitting to become a professional mime. Tell your significant other you've secretly been training to be a competitive cheese sculptor. Tell yourself that everything's going to be okay.

Because let's face it, we're all fools.

We're fools for believing in the promise of a better tomorrow.

We're fools for thinking that a well-placed whoopee cushion can solve all our problems.

But hey, at least we're fools together. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough to get us through another year.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go replace all the salt in my house with sugar.

Because why not? It's April Fools' Day, and nothing matters anymore.

Hey Guys ... It's Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday in the Philippines is less a religious event and more a full-scale logistical operation involving faith, fashion, and foliage management.

Every year, millions of Filipinos commemorate Palm Sunday—the day Jesus Christ entered Jerusalem—by entering church gates armed with intricately woven palm fronds that could easily double as home décor or, in emergencies, anti-chicken devices.

The palms themselves are a masterpiece of local engineering. 

Simple leaves are transformed overnight into elaborate designs resembling fish, flowers, or something that looks suspiciously like a Wi-Fi symbol—perhaps a subtle prayer for better connection, both spiritual and mobile. 

Vendors outside churches become seasonal moguls, proving that even holiness has a supply chain.

Attendance, of course, reaches peak levels. Filipinos who have not been seen in church since last year’s Palm Sunday suddenly reappear, palms in hand, ready to fulfill what experts call the “annual visibility requirement.” 

It’s a beautiful sight: a sea of devotion, or at least a sea of people trying to find shade while holding decorative vegetation.

Once blessed, the palms achieve a dramatic status upgrade. 

They are no longer mere leaves; they are now sacred objects, carefully placed behind doors, windows, and sometimes televisions—serving as both spiritual protection and interior design.

Some households keep them until next year, when they are ceremonially replaced, proving that even blessings have an expiration-adjacent policy.

The true challenge, however, is endurance. 

Palm Sunday Mass in the Philippines is a test of faith, patience, and leg strength. 

With crowds spilling outside the church, many participants master the ancient art of “hearing Mass from a distance,” relying on muffled speakers and strong imagination despite hearing problems.

Yet beneath the satire lies something genuine. 

For many Filipinos, Palm Sunday marks the emotional beginning of Holy Week—a time when faith becomes visible, communal, and woven (quite literally) into daily life.

And so, every year, Filipinos gather not just to wave palms, but to wave hello to tradition, community, and a faith that persists—sometimes quietly, sometimes loudly, and sometimes in the form of a very well-crafted piece of coconut leaf art.

The Ash Wednesday "Forehead Audit": A Guide to Lenten Guilt

 

Welcome to the official start of the Philippine "Holy Hunger Games," also known as Ash Wednesday. It is the one day of the year when Filipinos voluntarily stand in line for hours just to have someone smudge dirt on their faces—a practice we usually avoid at all costs during the rainy season. In the Philippines, the cross on your forehead isn't just a religious symbol; it’s a Spiritual Credit Score. 1. The "Size Matters" Doctrine There is a widely accepted (and completely unofficial) theology in the parish: The size of the cross is directly proportional to the size of your browser history. The "Thin Line": You probably just forgot to pray before meals or accidentally said a bad word when you stubbed your toe. The "Bold Font" Cross: You definitely cheated on your diet, lied to your boss about "traffic," and haven't called your mother in three weeks. The "Full Forehead Smudge": Juice ko po. If the priest uses half the bowl of ashes on you, the community assumes you are currently hiding a fugitive or you’re the one responsible for the sugar price hike. You don't need a blessing; you need an exorcism. 2. The "Ash Aesthetic" (Lenten Instagram Edition) Nothing says "humility and repentance" like taking 47 selfies to find the one where the ash cross perfectly complements your skin tone and lighting. The Ash Wednesday Social Media Checklist: The Caption: Something deep like "Dust to dust" or "Low batt muna sa kasalanan." The Filter: "Grayscale" or "Noir" to emphasize the somber, "I-haven't-eaten-rice-in-four-hours" look. The Struggle: Trying to wash your face at night without feeling like you’re deleting your "Saved Progress" in heaven. 3. The Great Fasting "Loophole." In the Philippines, fasting is a creative art form. The rule is "one full meal and two smaller meals," but the definition of "small" is subject to Intense Negotiated Sovereignty. Type of "Fasting" What We Say What Actually Happens The Pious Fast "Water and bread only." The "bread" is actually a giant Ensaymada with extra cheese and salted egg. The Pescatarian Pivot "No meat today." We eat a 5-course seafood buffet because "technically, hipon is not a cow." The "Robin Padilla" Strength "Kaya ko 'to." Ends up eating a hidden pack of Chicharon by 3:00 PM because "The spirit is willing, but the stomach is weak." 4. The "No-Wash" Superstition We all know that one person who refuses to wash their forehead until the following Thursday. They walk around like a spiritual billboard, letting the world know they went to the 6:00 AM Mass. Pro Tip: If your ash cross lasts for more than 24 hours, it’s either a miracle, or the priest accidentally used permanent marker. Either way, you are now the Barangay Saint by default. 5. The "Recruitment in Place" (Lenten Version) Senator Lacson might call it foreign influence, but during Ash Wednesday, we see "Influence from Above." People who haven't stepped inside a church since their cousin’s wedding in 2019 suddenly appear, seeking "Recruitment" back into the fold. It’s the only day you’ll see a "Wolf Warrior" of a boss suddenly turn into a "Sacrificial Lamb" just because there’s a smudge of burnt palm leaves on their brow. In conclusion, Ash Wednesday is the perfect Philippine holiday: it involves standing in line, judging your neighbor’s forehead, and planning exactly which seafood restaurant to hit for dinner.

History Repeat Iyself

This is just a meme review.

Historic recurrence is the repetition of similar events in history. Just like the image above, the people choose to release Barabas, a prominent figure in the biblical story of Jesus's crucifixion. He was a notorious criminal, and robber, and an insurrectionist who was released by Pontius Pilate instead of Jesus.

It is obvious the owner of the image wants it to compare with one prominent politician's personal odyssey, where even with a truckload of glaring evidence and proofs, people would rather turn their backs and ignore the obvious.

History repeats itself when past and present specific events bear the same striking similarity. There is that noticeable resemblance, and the similarity is so strong that it catches the eye and can easily be observed.

Notice how the incident that happened Anno Domini and the last administration's political saga share the same nuances and characteristics.  

The parallelism is significant and stands out rather than being merely subtle or minor.

Why Hunt Eggs On Easter?

When we talk about Easter Sunday, what comes to mind? Well, the Easter Bunny, of course, Easter Eggs, the rabbits, and children with baskets.

Some Asians or Pinoys may wonder why children hunt for eggs on Easter. Indeed, it is understandable why they can't relate to the activity because it is more of a Western tradition.

I Googled it and here's what I found:

1. Religious Symbolism:

• Resurrection:

  The egg, especially when decorated, symbolizes Jesus' resurrection and emergence from the tomb.
• New Life:

  Eggs have long been associated with new life and spring, aligning with the Christian concept of spiritual renewal that Easter celebrates. 
• Fasting:

  Historically, eggs were forbidden during Lent, the period before Easter. Therefore, the Easter egg hunt and consumption of eggs became a celebratory act marking the end of fasting and the beginning of the Easter holiday. 

2. Fun and Festive Tradition:

• Excitement and Play:

  Egg hunts are a popular and fun activity for children, involving a sense of adventure and the excitement of finding hidden treasures.
• Social Activity:

  Egg hunts are often family or community events, fostering a sense of togetherness and celebration.
• Candy and Treats:

  The tradition often involves hiding candy-filled eggs, making it a treat-filled experience for children. 

Itim ... How Timely

The latest Pinoy Big Brother tandem of evictees ... UNITEAM becomes UN-ITIM.

Black is the color of the day. Ginagawa ba nila ito para sumabay sa somber mood ng Semana Santa? Whatever their motives are ... people find it stupefying kung bakit nila kailangan ipag-luksa ang kandidatura ni Manang Imee sa Senado at ginawang pang Holy Week ang presentation.

Hindi tuloy maiwasan paghambingin ang ginawa ng mga tao noong sa panahon ni Kristo.They are in for the kill. Ipinako na nga nila si Kristo sa Krus, pinainom pa nila ng vinegar mixed with gall. 

Peter denied him 3 times despite his willingness to die for Him ... that's very symbolic as Aimee tries to besmirch the administration by painting the town black, giving the semblance na parang walang redeeming value na ang pamunuan ng brother niya.

Hindi niya ba alam na mas akma ang description at mga pinagsasabi nila sa mga nangyayari noon sa term ni PRRD na puno ng karahasan at patayan maisulong lang ang kanilang war on drugs?

Some loyalists frown at how she treated his brother. In exchange for the votes coming from the DDS block ... willing pala si Manang Inday ibenta ang kanyang prinsipyo ma-relect lang siya. Shades of Judas Iscariot agreeing to hand over Jesus in exchange for thirty pieces of silver.

Nagbihis itim pa sila, "how can they be so audacious, and how can they stomach acting sanctimonious and holier than thou? Hindi ba nila tinitingnan ang mga sarili nila bago magbigay ng konklusyon at opinion?