fried future

In my mother’s absence, my elder sister has taken on the role of “evil stepmom” and decreed that I do time in the kitchen during my two-week vacation in Davao City. This morning, while frying porkchops for lunch, I decided that I was a good enough cook to multi-task. So I switched on the TV.

There they were, Boy Abunda and his artista guests; and then, on the rival channel, the Sis triumvirate and their share of celebrities. Since it’s the first Monday of the new year, it was predictable that both talk shows had as guests – in addition to the celebrities coming from across the popularity spectrum – fortune tellers, astrologists, feng shui experts, numerologists, and other allegedly future-seeing personalities. I do not subscribe to fortune-telling in whatever form, so I watched the shows with an eyebrow perennially raised, frying ladle (or whatever you call the metal thing used for frying) clasped in one hand.

The supposedly clairvoyant guests took turns sharing their predictions and vibrations for each of the artistas, their accents as varied as their field of metaphysical expertise. Madam Rosa, who has had her fair share of comic impersonators, was still as enigmatic as ever – in the sense that I never know whether to laugh or take her seriously when she blurts out her piece about the future; the end-result for me is a headache. The lady feng shui expert was personable, but I couldn’t tell if she’s really Chinese or just trying to sound like one so as to lend credibility to her practice of the ancient Chinese art. She excitedly shared to a celebrity couple, whose year signs are Horse and Ox, that their baby Dog will bring them luck. Astrological fauna is confusing.

Then there was the lady who called herself Stargazer – obviously not the name that appears on her birth certificate. She claims to have the ability to read auras. Her eloquence could have convinced me to take her more seriously; but I just couldn’t part with the nagging thought that “Stargazer” sounds more like a Yahoo Messenger alias than the name of a credible prophetess. The lone male fortune-teller, looking respectable with black-rimmed glasses and a monotonous voice that reminded me of Kuya Cesar, only faster, “magically” appeared in both shows. Apparently, Home Boy was taped, while Sis aired live. He used tarot cards on one show and just plain intuition on the other. Or maybe he forgot to bring his props to the other show?

The artistas (oh, how they multiply and crowd our TV screens, it’s just impossible to remember them all) paid serious attention to the seers’ take on their personal futures. One was warned against driving fast in a red vehicle. The same actor was also assured that he will become a major action star this new year. So I guess no stunts onboard a red CRV for him? One teen actress, with a pretty but forgettable face, smiled sheepishly when Madam told her that her career will soar to greater heights this year. Who knows, I could be blogging about having a major crush on her at the end of this year. Now if only I could remember her name and face. Another young actor, a teenage father, was advised to heed his mother’s advice. How mind-blowing is that! There is a non-astrological name for this: Common Sense. A discussion on lucky numbers sent the female hosts of Sis giddy with delight, while…

Wait. What’s that smell? A whiff of my future, no doubt. A strange force and a tingling sensation drew me away from the TV box and into the kitchen – to check on the slabs of pork meat that were burning, er, cooking there. No need for a crystal ball to remind me that if I didn’t do anything about it, my immediate future would consist of a meal of charred, carcinogenic porkchops.

Happy New Year!


  1. headline sa TV patrol: “Kris at James magpapakasal!”

    later, during an interview with a “fortune-teller”: Mabobontes si Kris!”

    Is it a crime if I break this guy’s cyrstal ball…on his head?


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