Monday, November 28, 2005

Christafari: Cultural bandit or reinventor of the scope of reggae myoozik?


Christafari: Cultural bandit or reinventor of the scope of reggae myoozik?

Blurb: "You set me free from such bondage, released me from such carnage...emancipation, have set me free from sinful slavery; you have released me from what's entangled me. As I was in the darkness you gave my soul light, and now that I live in the daytime, I am haunted by the night. Father show us the way, guide and protect us I pray, a pillar of fire by night and a cloud by day...spabadabadabadaba bop spidada spop spop spaba daba spop spoba doba spop spee da da da Christafari Jah Jah Jah Jah Jah Creator. Christafari Jehovah Messiah My Savior Jah Jah Jah Jah!"

My fancy for reggae myoozik stems from a desire for emancipation from mental, spiritual, political and economic slavery. Though I hate thought control imposed on me by institutions that spread the meme virus which destroyed the built-in program of "goodness" in my system - and that I must admit that I'm having a hard time in the debugging of such, I am already tied up to believing the diploma is a weapon against poverty, dragged into embracing a faith that exalts flagellation and martyrdom, taught that sex rightfully belongs in marriage, etcetera. I guess if I weren't schooled only to be instituted and canned and boxed, and if I had only a choice about religions, and left with how I would cherish virginal values, then I could have been a better person.

Today I feel that to crave for the universalization of religions and the intertwining of philosophies is but a far cry in some wilderness. And that my practice of freedom, at some points, has gone haywire, rocking the bed of democracy. Every man is entitled to have his own picture of his God whoever and however he conceives Him to be, I stand by on this conviction amid the scorns of the religious fundamentalists who throw their stares at me as if I'm dressed with dementia.

When the influence of reggae found a beat in my head, my worship also found form, substance, sensitivity and sensibility. Evangelization through music ministry proves to be life-changing because music touches souls and binds a culture, and that is a fact. And though I experimented on monotones with Gregorian Chant, the charismatic hymn in Don Moen's works, the melting of a heart that professed to be an ex-atheist in Steve Kuban's songs, the alternative sound of Jars of Clay to the cymbal-crashing, growling contemporary gospel music of POD, I developed a very strong liking for reggae.

Well, if you only have a journal of that careful study of music albums of reggae artists done to dissect their cerebellums, you would be able to take note that their works reveal striking qualities of good oratory on the deployment of both classical, traditional and innovative rhetorical skills to the cause of political independence, economic advancement, and the restoration of racial pride, not to mention the playup of musical instruments that gives heads reason to rock and fingers to thump and feet to stomp.

But lately I am saddened by the accusations hurled at my favorite Christian reggae artists who collectively call themselves Christafari (say Christ-a-far-eye) for allegedly stealing a culture that is that of Rastafarians. Oh my! Is the word stealing? Or merely borrowing?

Tansoback and Christafari

Mark Mohr aka Tansoback, an ordained minister who took on reggae myoozik to promote Christian evangelism leads the pack. The group professes to be counter-cult and is a drug aversion ministry using reggae myoozik and the spoken word to reach a wayward generation, with the desire to bring hope to the afflicted, edify the body of Christ, evangelize the lost, and ultimately see all of the listeners gravitate towards the Word of God.

The group took its name from Christ being the Greek word for "Messiah". Cristoforos or Christafaros means "the Christ bearer" in Greek, while Cristoforoi or Christafaroi is plural for "a group of people that collectively bears or represents Christ". Tafari is Amharic (an Ethiopian language) for "Creator, Almighty, Awesome, Father, and One who needs to be worshipped". Christafari was lifted off from John 1:1-3. Collectively in Greek, it stands for "soldiers for Christ" or "salvation army".

Mark Mohr (Tansoback) is on lead vocals (raggamuffin and singing), and percussion; Erik Sven Sundin (Earthman) also on lead vocals; James Pach (Jaibo Culture) lead vocals and keyboards; Lyndon Barrington Allen (Iron) plays bass, vocals and keyboards; Bill Kasper (Painta Man) plays guitar; Ken Yarnes (Mr. Mention) plays drums and does additional drum programming. Background vocals are provided by Mark Heimermann, Vicki Hampton and Donna McElroy; and additional musicians like Barry Green pipe up the trombone while Dennis Soley does it on flute.

I have two of Christafari's albums aside from "Gravity" released recently with reviews posted on their website. I have Soulfire and WordSoundPower of Gotee Records distributed by Praise Music. I would say that as a big, big fan the accusations hurled at Christafari for being "cultural bandits" gave me the hurts. They maybe are copycats in genre, in recording format, in style of oratory but I would want to defend them from being labelled thieves of a musical culture.

If the goal of reggaenism is to unite people everywhere in whom burns the unfulfilled wish for freedom, equality and dignity, can't Christian music ministry borrow such to uphold spiritual freedom, equality among sinners and saints and dignity of faith? If Jamaica reggae begun as a reaction to British colonial rule, why can't such style be propagated to emancipate people from thought control? from spiritual slavery? from the powers of darkness and or evil?

If the patterns of reggae music employed persuasive strategies coupled with the functionality of its aesthetics to serve as an effective device that a musician and orator uses in order to achieve intellectual and emotional effects on an audience, able to persuade them to accede to a point of view, then it might as well be employed in Christian evangelism to be able to reach out effectively to a group of people - count me in - who would prefer to listen to the appeal of gospel music written, arranged, and performed in this particular music genre.
It has been written that historical experiences and social struggles are reflected in the works of several reggae musicians who see their musical profession partly as the acceptance of a challenge to fulfill a duty which Bob Marley describes as: "We free our people with music." His music has remained highly popular, and for many it has continued to symbolize the hopes of the downtrodden for a better life outside urban slums. The clarity, conviction, and sincerity of Marley's performances, and his unique, melodic style of songwriting have influenced many pop-music artists.

I think that uncle Bob would want reggae to be shared among us who buy the message on emancipation, a cause meant to rub - not rob of any culture - but influence others through the marriage of oratory and aesthetics. Christafari is here to pave a way in the remapping of the scope of reggae myoozik so to touch people conscious of the possible unification of our faith in the one Jah - the Awesome, the Greatest Musician of All Time.

According to another successful reggae group Big Mountain, "make more fruitful days, that's what we are fighting for. It's about healing people". The healing of the scar of oppression, war and poverty is also the battlecry of Christianity. Can't we not borrow, musically, an already proven effective method to witness broken and contrite hearts bow down to the power of music?


TEXTPRESS URSELF! 17-Oct-2005 17:13:45 "Great article 2day - fr fidel, don bosco; 17-Oct-2005 14:29:18 "Long ben lokng 2 cntac u bt got no cmputer. gud u giv ur cphn.ff always rd ur colum & njoyd nyoyng & wl njoy 8 always. mor powr. lyk ur style. gud work! - MJ, cebu city (Mobile phones withheld).

For your comments, reactions, suggestions, contributions on Jah, crank up my email addy: or text me at 09215323616. Grand eyeball up for all my "reactors" who would want to join our Adopt Streetkids Project on December 10. Jah rules!

Return to Gigaquit, return to my Shire!


Return to Gigaquit, return to my Shire!

M/V Princess of the Earth floated on a wily sea carrying me and my cares for a journey back to Gigaquit (pronounced hee-ga-kit), Surigao del Norte - my Eden, my Shire - out of the comforts of Sugbo I have come to fit into; back to embrace my real home again - where there's less noise and more green, where the people are humbled by their daily intercourse with the soil, the sand, the surf and the sky; where courageous hearts branded with tribal wisdom mustered the tempers of the sun-baked plains and the northeasterly winds, and the tantrums of the relentless waves of Doot bay just to put a face to survival.

A segment of my childhood was spent there during the mid-seventies - a flowering of the GenX and a blossoming of flares-and-clogs fashion, an epoch between the age of innocence and the dominion of childish awareness of some wild, cruel world; a time when the waters of the suba (river) of Baoy flowed with our shrieks and laughter and the songs of the hardwoods that urinated unto the river gave birth to moss on boulders.

It was back then when time was so much younger, when our ancestral house was still standing in all of its pride and glory with the rice fields for a backdrop - a living testimony of the industry of my forebears.

Back then, I had no adult thingies to think about; no bigger responsibilities to attend to; no paperworks, no deadliest deadlines to beat. All that I had understood was that the entire backyard of our ancestral house and the nearby rice paddies were all mine and my sister's playground. But time was such in a hurry and wished to make one year do for decades after decades after decades, and children were just in a rush too to get entangled with puberty.

The Princess of the Earth glided on top of the hissing northern Mindanao seawaters, a minuscule part of the universe that licked the ship with its spews under an orchestra of stars in blossom, the moon in flower; the night itself perched on her tower. There I was at the aft of the ship looking out into the harbor she had left behind, watching not the city lights blinking, radiating, shimmering from a distance, but the silhouette of the ruralscape - memories of women toiling in rice fields, men and their carabaos and plows tilling the soil, a number of children putting up finishing touches to scarecrows, and elderlies raking rice grains on mats, rustic lifestyle of the barrio folk - their simplicity, their plainness; their hearts soft as grass, their shadows light as a feather. I smelled my home, my Eden, my Shire!

The motorcycle-for-hire roared its kind of madness on the already handsomely paved Surigao del Norte provincial road. My mother's birthplace is some 47 kilometers out of Surigao City. For all my life, I know I have always been in love with the place even when I saw first light in Cebu City and just came home to Gigaquit across all those Aprils and Mays as a youngster. Not only is there wonderful sunshine in Gigaquit, there too is delicious rain and the air of richness and growth just like the Shire John Ronald Reuel Tolkien of the Lord of the Rings fame had come to weave.

Gigaquit is one of the oldest municipalities in the province of Surigao del Norte and was once the mother municipality of Bacuag and Claver, which became separate municipalities in 1918 and 1955 under Executive Orders 61 and 126, respectively.

As borne out of historical writings, a native named Cero founded Gigaquit in 1850.About this time, priest from different religious orders christened the natives and made St. Augustine, bishop of Hippo in Africa, as their patron saint. And until this time the majority of Gigaquitnons have preserved that religious affiliation which is Roman Catholicism.The municipality got its name from two native words "gigad" which means shore and "gakit" meaning bamboo raft. Early settlers used these rafts as their mode of transportation from the hinterlands to the shore.
At the crossing section of barangays Villafranca and Villaflor, I noticed the vacant lot where our ancestral house used to stand. It was the site of family reunions in the early 80s. Now it is devoid of merriment - of that mixture of childish shrieks and adult laughter. As I hurriedly wiped away tears at the back of my hand, I craved for the scent of kopra (coconut meat) slowly wilting under the scorching sun, neatly arranged on a mat made of tikug.

The kopra is a tool for survival. Coconut meat goes with brown sugar to substitute the staple when the fields go flooded as an aftermath of typhoons. Sometimes, my uya (grandmother) would bring sacks of kopra to Insek Gua (the town's Chinese copra buyer) in exchange for a few pesos meant to save the day.

There I was three days before All Souls Day nostalgic about that pawid-made window that lets in the fresh air from the rice fields, from where the wind seems to hurdle past rice dikes. The window had a bamboo pole for tukod. Very rural. Very charming. Then too I began missing the hedgerows where clusters of santan in yellow and tangerine bloomed in subtle seduction adorning Uya Pepang's garden - she was the good old lady who patiently taught the barrio schoolchildren their first lessons on the alphabet and the do-re-mi. I suddenly had the craving for the pinonsihan (a mixture of lambanog or wine from nipa and Pepsi) which the folks preferably call tinam-isan; of the badjug (a place close to the swamps where my forebears concoct lambanog from the sap of nipa in their makeshift distillery; I longed for the string of banog (falcon) that hovered above us as we wash clothes at the river, and chickens that had learned to adapt to their environment as manifested with their crossing the river to the grace of ducks or dogs or carabaos.

My stay in Gigaquit was the most colorful chapter of my life because I had the privilege, that time, to only care less. It never really mattered whether I'm parochial or poor. Sunsets and sunrises became moments to behold, so were moonlit nights, and when tides swelled in perfect for rafting. The vast green fields were in obeisance to heaven covering like carpet the chocolate brown earth where verdant rice stalks sprouted from its bosom. A kind of scent, that only nature's perfumery can produce, emanated from the palay - ripe amber grains - hanging from their drooping stalks. These were my treasures as these were fine moments of nature that passed by hardly noticed by most men weary of their cares and women tied up to their chores.

As I marched down the dirt road back home to barangay Villafranca on an All Souls Day, I was transported back to my childhood with the heart that could not simply detach from an Eden, from a Shire - where there's less noise and more green.

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The Marriage Bed


The marriage bed

Funny how a jealous wife could go amok over the mobile phone on suspicion of her husband's dalliances on the wired world upon seeing a billing for books sent by her husband to me from the west coast of the US midway this year.

I picked up my phone to a call early last week, employing the code of phonethics, only to be badmouthed by a certain Mrs. Engineer Duh upon finding out my friend Engineer Duh sent me a complete set of JRR Tolkien's works - from "The Hobbit" to "Return of the King" - suspecting the Engineer and I have shared virtual intimacy.

Spitefulness begot the spits of another spitfire! Her badmouthing went down the spout perfectly well with my orientation on a helluvah load of expletives and curses matching her fits of fury. But after trading barbs with the jealous wifey - tempest personified - it dawned on me how marriage beds could rock lovingly in celebration of intimacy and how it can, otherwise, creak to the crack of doom for "maling akala" (read: wrong notion; say, "Hey, you got the wrong idea, Mrs. Spermatozoa!")

Small talk, cheap talk, loose talk, trash talk on the wired world

I dunno how plain "hallers" and the exchange of small talk, cheap talk, loose talk, trash talk could transpire to some controversy. What's clear to me is that
Engineer Duh got fond of me when we reached some level of profundity after a serving of small talk, cheap talk, loose talk, trash talk as we zeroed in on his childhood, his work, his struggles, his marriage.

The conversation moved about and touched base on sexual intimacy, he said he had only had the heart to open up to me, aside from his peer group of course. Yeppers! Me who is non-family; me who is just another cinder in space; a person he couldn't put a clear face at, at all, because he hadn't met me in person. Am I supposed to take that as pleasure?

The Engineer acknowledged my lending ears and thanked me for the time I spent typing back to him on real-time. In a gesture of felicity, he gave in to my request that for "retainers" as his virtual shock absorber, I would want a set of JRR Tolkien's works.

Yes, he said his marriage life is not that spiced up anymore with sexual intimacy - and I was processing the logic why marriage beds come devoid of such when marriage is synonymous to union.

At one point, Engineer Duh said he is living all alone because he already parted ways with his wife; at another, with a common-law partner, and lately admitted to really having a wife but treating each other on a civil level - living in together under one roof minus the bond lovers share. He said his marriage has suddenly "gagged him, throttled him, asphyxiated him." And again I was processing how lovers could give up communicating? Is there eloquence in such a silence?

For the umpteenth time, I heard this blame on a wife for her so-called "passive resistance" to the ragings of male testosterone.

The Duhs!

Sexual intimacy

Learning that both of them are dying from the cold within and losing grasp of the substance of intimacy, I would have typed back to Engineer Duh in his private message box to maybe try instructional sex videotapes and help books on sex and sexuality to spice up their sex life as neither of them might not be that creative when it comes to bed play.

I would have given the Engineer the idea that videos or photos of sexual acts produce erotica and maybe just by looking at some illustrations would stimulate him to arousal. Funny thing about our conversations was that I saved my motoh mawth from blurting out a joke: "Get into the sex manuals that extol sexual plays requiring unusual strength or acrobatics, Mr. Spermatozoa!"

Honestly, that time, it was easier to tread the road to perversion. But I never pointed the man to some kind of trap!

Pornography, I read somewhere, develops problems that are associated with self-critical doubts and promiscuous sexual behavior. So that it would be better to just put him off the subtle seduction, or the hook might not only scrape the gills but gouge them all out of his system.

Well, according to sex therapists who recognized the dilemma for years, the training or therapy videos and photographs are done with models who possess exceptional bodies and that consequently one effect of watching the models at work is feeling intimidated that one's own "equipment" just doesn't measure up.

The second negative effect of sex videos and photographs is their tendency to develop an involvement with pornography. As with any addictive stimuli, viewing sexually explicit material leads to tolerance. That is, it takes increasing amounts or intensity of the stimulus to produce the same result. Like a heroin addict who has to increase the dose he takes for the same high, a pornography addict will need more frequent and more tantalizing pictures to produce the desired excitement, this according to a sexual health column on the worldwide web.

The piece went: "The danger is particularly keen in our Internet era. Pornography is simply too available. There reportedly are roughly 350,000 sites on the Internet offering every possible range of pornographic material that's believed to lead to increased lack of intimacy, sexually promiscuous behavior, and adultery.

Talk - not just moan nor groan!
The Engineer bowed down to my idea that the marital problem rooted from lack of loving talk. Moans and groans are sweet to the ears as these are produced by pleasure on a rocking, squeaking marriage bed - but trash talk messed up every vow they had exchanged before some kind of a god they never really quite know well.

From the looks of it, the two just watched the embers of passion die down; and allowed the sizzle of desire to march to the graves. And with the culture today carrying a constant message about the perfect body, such gives attention to imperfection and ugliness, issues on stretch marks and wrinkles, sagging skin and weigh problems - and SDV - sex drive vanished!

When men come to their "screeching halt", nothing is more welcomed than a loving assurance that it was not actually a screech, but more of a sputter. Nothing could ever stand in for acceptance that - well - there is always a terminus to the good things shaping before us and that virility like this state of existence is definitely borrowed too.

Study reveals men are so hesitant to admit problems about their sexuality, and I wonder how does Mrs. Engineer Duh handle that with her stinky mouth that shames the fart of a skunk? How would she deal that both of them must adapt to a decrease in their frequency of intercourse?

With the way they have now repelled from each other, and with the way the jealous wifey had yakked over the phone, joggling my earwax, I found it impossible to discuss diplomatically that her husband is not dead on a hunt for her - some sort of -replacement, but is in thirst for consolation in his desperation that, among all women in this universe, his very own wife couldn't conspire anymore with him to work on achieving closeness in a companionship that's supposedly physically and spiritually satisfying, orgasmic, sweetness to the extreme.

Living without intimacy should not have been the consequence for both had Engineer Duh learned to confide to a wife in trust, and not to some unknown on the wired world. And, too, situations could not have gone complicated had Mrs. Engineer Duh acted positively in reciprocation and better understanding that the marriage bed is not just for muffled ecstatic cries nor spousal wars.

The marriage bed is inanimate, but it is star witness to a union - a supposed blessed union of souls.

TEXTPRESS URSELF! 14-Nov-2005 20:07:30: "So nice 2 knw dat u came fm waya2x provnce. No wnder ur language 2 vivid dscribing ur soroundngs (Return to Gigaquit, return to my Shire!). Im enamored wth ur writng skill. Kudos n ur clum! Wsh i cud b like u! - VIN; 14-Nov-2005 12:26:46 "I have read plenty of your writings and it gives me pleasure poring on it at my time. Count me as your fan. - DFBACUS, Basak, Pardo; 14-Nov-2005 12:00:25 "Hi! I jst read ur lifestyle. Quite nice. Thanks. Im RYAN frm cebu.; 15-Nov-2005 17:33:23 "Ur article on gigaquit is an endearing prose. i love ur way of writing. - ROLEX. 16-Nov-2005 12:11:51 - "Iv jst read ur artcle cncrnng ur homland Gigaquit. I found 8 dply profound, by wrtng down stories 'bout ur homtown. I am also a Surigaonon who usd to pass by ur place evrytym I wnt hom. Ths s wat I'v alwys drmd of, 2 bcme a wrtr lyk u so dt I too, may b able 2 put my thots n2 words & write dwn stories 'bout my homtown too. - SURIGAONON/EDUARD. Mobile phone numbers withheld.

For your comments, reactions, suggestions and contributions, crank up my email addy: Or text me at 09215323616. Married men give your wivey a note you're merely in for the reaction to the topic, and got no little interest on the writer. (Hee hee!)

The Digital Divide


The digital divide

Blurb: "Only in the richest countries is Internet access widespread, and even there, it is mainly a male, upper-income group phenomenon," the report further went, "whose process of globalization is a two-edged sword --- cutting many people in, but also increasingly cutting many people out."

Six years ago, in an assignment for my Opinion Writing class, a Journalism 03 requirement, I brought up the widening gap of the haves and have-nots in terms of their access to Internet-ing (international networking). Such disparity between rich and poor found a politically correct term today - digital divide.

My assignment paper read, "The world is racing against a friendly opponent: Technological development. We are at a time of technological upsurge as manifested by the availability of services that make work less cumbersome and allow the processing of information at a less complicated manner. With the influx of devices, gadgets and gizmos that pave for short message services, electronic mails, facsimile transmissions, video conferencing and international networking, to name a few, people across borders become interconnected despite distances and time zones.

The paper I submitted mentioned of reports from Geneva, Switzerland prepared by the United Nations Human Development team which stated that "the Internet forms a significant part of the inequality of wealth that is opening up between the world's haves and have-nots."

The report carried with it a warning: "The world wide web has created a process of shrinking time and space, and deleting borders, linking people more closely than ever before, but such interconnectivity is very partial."

"Only in the richest countries is Internet access widespread, and even there, it is mainly a male, upper-income group phenomenon," the report further went, "whose process of globalization is a two-edged sword --- cutting many people in, but also increasingly cutting many people out."

Here in Cebu, one wage earner has to save his keeps over a period of from one to two years to be able to buy a computer unit and complete peripherals that the average US citizen could buy for the price of a month's salary. Another point raised is that eighty percent of the world's websites are written in English, the native language of just 10 percent of the world's population.

This friendly opponent - information and communications technology - sows inequality online as the poor cannot afford monthly Internet access fees. This scenario is more pronounced in developing countries.

During the Information and Communications Technology 2005 Summit here last June, commission chairman Virgilio Peña pointed out that in the Philippines, only four percent of the nearly 84 million population have access to technology.

While Peña agreed with
President Arroyo that more than the bringing of investments and creating of high value jobs, information technology should help uplift the condition of the poor, quoting a presidential speech that a total of 132,000 jobs were generated as of May in the ICT sector, 96 percent of the country's population are left on the other side of the divide - some not even able to ever key in their names onto a computer up to today.

Digital divide

The term implies that races are divided according to those who make greater use of, and derive greater benefit from, the Internet (the haves) and those who do not (the have-nots). By broad definition, the "haves" are presumed to be privileged whites and Asians and the "have-nots" are presumed to be underprivileged blacks and Hispanics.

Digital divide is closely related to the terms "proportional representation", "underrepresentation" and "disparate impact". As with these other terms, digital divide assumes that racial discrimination is both the cause and the effect; and that whites are primarily responsible for alleged racial discrimination.

Digital divide became a popular term during the first two Clinton presidencies when Bill Clinton was fond of proclaiming that grave disparities in Internet access had a disparate impact on minorities and needed to be "remedied" by government intervention. He also proclaimed a great many other grave disparities which were based on skin color, this according to

Digital divide was coined to place in focus the need of poor countries to receive special treatment in the form of reduced computer costs and reduced Internet access fees.

The Internet summit, cyber terrorism

Recently an Internet summit was concluded in Tunis, Tunisia after tackling up the expansion of Internet access around the world, ending up with a promise to narrow the digital divide, but little in government funding to make this plan materialize.

In a wired report, the World Summit on Information Society was conceived to raise consciousness about the divide between the haves and the have-nots, and to raise money for projects to link up the global village particularly Africa and some parts of Asia and South America - still considered lagging behind in Internet literacy.

"Internet communications technology is an opportunity for development, but at the same time we do have the risk of digital divide," Yoshio Utsumi, Secretary General of the International Telecommunications Union, said in his speech during the summmit.

During the Association on Southeast Asian Nations forum on cyber terrorism last month, Philippine commissioner for information and communications technology Tim Diaz de Rivera noted that technology gaps among Southeast Asian nations are making it difficult for authorities to combat cyber terrorism. This hardship emerged as a new threat to regional security versus a nemesis considered as "transnational and borderless".

Long before the situation got a politically correct term, I already chose the topic for my assignment paper because I found the report somewhat bothersome.

Internet access is closely linked to wealth and education with 30 percent of Internet users worldwide put to have at least a university degree. Fully aware that production of hardware and software have been upgraded everyday due to the competition among big companies and corporations chiefly in developed countries, I noted and considered that the UNHD report got some truth to it on the consequences of inequality it would bring about to third world countries.

I find that digital divide poses a new challenge to achieving equality in the sharing of the world's wealth and resources, a new plane where conflict and oppression root as nations wage again that old battlecry to be treated equally in terms of opportunities, this time on a new sphere - that which is cyberspace. TEXTPRESS URSELF! 21-Nov-2005 11:57:40 "Your pen is too sharp when anger comes. Forget all about the Duhs and let those sorry events pass...go on forward." - DFBACUS; 22-Nov-2005 08:31:08 Gud am. Jus read ur column nw, n ystrdays isue. My concrn s bout my affair wd a 40yr old guy. im stl 24 ryt nw & i have a bf who wrk abroad; please send a copy to my email 21-Nov-2005 20:20:27 "Tnx 4 publsng my cments n ur clumn 2d. My admiratn 2 ur MARRIAGE BED artcle. Am 2 eager 2 c u n prson bt i cnt jibe ur availablty. bt m sure smday wel met.- VIN; 23-Nov-2005 13:22:38 "Hi! Sory I ws unable 2 rply lst nyt. Dnt hav load. I hav read The Marriage Bed & found 8 gud. Thanks 4 putng my txt n ur column. U r indeed a gud writer. - EDUARD.

Happy 63rd birthday greetings to my father - Papa Vic - today! For your comments, reactions, suggestions and contributions, crank up my email addy: Or text me at 09215323616. No indecent proposals, text scams, text chains please! Just your reactions! For past topics, please visit