Driving in Quezon City and Las Piñas are completely different experiences for me.  In Quezon City, vehicles dart in and out of traffic, the concept of yielding is foreign.  I feel more at home in Las Piñas.  When I stop to let pedestrians cross the street, I get a smile and I smile back.  In the Gloria Diaz-Lalaine Benett intersection of BF Resort Village, I let the vehicle that is the first to stop go first.  Somehow, the concept of yielding for people crossing the street and motorists who stop first have taken hold.  Did I start it?  I don’t know.  I just know driving in Quezon City and Las Piñas are two different things.

We can complain and complain till our aneurysms rupture, but we can also do the right thing—drive friendly, say good morning, say thank you to people who serve us and you’re welcome to people who thank us.

As I said, the Philippines defies explanation.  Is it because we are a feelings people?  That when you give love, love will return to you?  UP education, for instance, made me aggressive and ruthless until I exhausted myself trying to change things.  I found that I don’t have to change things, to just be kind.  People will always be people.  They will respond to love as much as they respond to hate.

Love works.

From my Facebook page:

Yesterday, while traversing the Alabang-Zapote flyover on the way home from Quezon City, Baby and I saw a Philippine flag on the road, like roadkill. The flagstaff broke and the flag fell on the wayside. Cars were rolling on it. I parked at the BPI branch at the foot of the flyover and jogged to the crest of the speedway, waving my right hand at the oncoming vehicles while I ran so they would not hit me. One jerk on the driver side even mocked me, thinking perhaps that I was insane, running on the road at 4 in the afternoon. When I reached the fallen flag, I carefully rolled a part of it on the broken staff and held it aloft, a la Mel Gibson in The Patriot. At the foot of the bridge, I handed the flag over to a traffic officer in orange shirt. I told him what had happened, and he seemed impressed by my rescue. “Make sure it gets to the right authorities,” I told him in Tagalog. He accepted the flag and saluted me.

Maud Villanueva, Naty Nerida, Edna Fe Fontanilla Aquino and 18 others like this.
Mike Ureta Ten-hut! Hats off to you Sr. Brod.
Sunday at 4:40pm · Like

Alenn Nidea Tha’sa our man! Keep it up.
Sunday at 6:44pm · Like

Ody Scroocootoo Great deed, bro! Proud of you!
Sunday at 7:13pm via mobile · Like

Manny Dizon wow..that’s own man will…
Sunday at 7:58pm · Like

Mags Pasadilla I salute you, sir!
Yesterday at 2:24am via mobile · Like

Tito Salvosa Proud to be a Filipino! I salute you!
Yesterday at 2:43am via mobile · Like

Thanks commentators and likers! I return your salute!
Yesterday at 9:01am · Like

“Create moments of love,” that’s a teaching in our prayer community. We have shown that we love God, family and neighbor. Filipinos are known for that. Isn’t it time to show the world that we love our country too?
Yesterday at 9:03am · Like

Some more details about the rescue: 1) the flyover had no sidewalk, so I had to run on the road facing traffic, vehicles whizzing past a few inches away from me at 60 kph, the task was so important that personal survival wasn’t important; 2) the flag was as long as I was tall, so it was huge–red, white and blue silk flowing joyfully in the stiff wind, it was exhilarating, and I could see that the people in the untinted vehicles were cheering me on as I held high the flag with the broken staff, so it wasn’t only me doing the rescue, many other people cared for the symbol of the country. I saw bayang magiliw right there and then!
Yesterday at 9:12am · Like · 1

Edna Fe Fontanilla Aquino good work….
Yesterday at 11:41am · Like

Naty Nerida that was a heroic job you’ve done.
Yesterday at 12:52pm · Like

‘Sar,

Unlike Alenn, I failed to say hi to you.  Hi ‘Sar.  Dai ka na maangot.

Oh, I have first-hand info about the modus of our subject matter.  I just cannot reveal it because it was told to me in confidence by a man who was in a position to be truthful.  I cannot go beyond that but rest assured that we have a rumor mill that will make his run for the presidency a tough job.  We have the same opinion about this guy.

   But this much I can say:  I had a one-on-one interview with Peping Cojuangco in 1990, and he said specifically that Ninoy Aquino was not the   issue anymore.  Cory’s brother who had her ear at that time insisted that Ninoy’s principles were no longer important at that time.  I’m sure he had to think again about what he said when Cory received a warm send-off and when Noynoy was elected president, saving us from Erap II (shudder) who finished second in the race.   No wonder Tingting run under UNA.  Some people will never understand the magic of Ninoy.    I’m sharing that because Mayo said he has a soft side for Mabini lawyers.  The sad truth is that people change.  It doesn’t matter how near they are to Ninoy.

   Factor incomes, Doc Butch?  Greek.  Of course it will not lead to better lives for our people, not when we have 40% dirt poor.  Not when 40% of our voters are open to bribes, not when the next president will be president simply because he targeted his infomercials to the poorest of the poor, much like the Susan Roces-Grace Llamanzares tv commercial plucked the soft spot of FPJ believers until they voted for her with tears in their eyes.

   But it’s still all good.  Who would have imagined that Cory will stage a comeback in death?  I was a fan, but I fell off when she didn’t seem to know which way to go, pushed and pulled by the likes of Peping.  What we really need is an honest bloke.  Period.  I saw Noynoy working the lines of the yellow army roused to view Cory in repose like an orchid in a glass case in the Manila Cathedral.  I fell in line for eight hours in Intramuros through sun and rain.  Her only son did not seem presidential at all.  But he had heart.  He felt for the crowd.  I felt he wanted to wipe the perspiration of everyone when it was sunny, and to give a change of clothes to those soaked by torrential rain.  In Conrad’s terms, we are truly a magic realist country—young children with their parents sharing a small umbrella under the rain at 11 in the evening just to get a glimpse of the saint from Times Street.  Perhaps, we should shelve our books when we consider the Philippines, for it resists scholarly discussion.  The Philippines is not a country, it is a feeling.  The feeling of fiestas, basketball, boxing, elections, get-togethers, one-on-ones or convention size, alumni homecomings, lovers holding hands, kids selling Marlboro cigarettes, husbands and wives, best friends, sick relations, kuyog (swarming the enemy, kanto-boy mode or people power), Mass, Christmas, Nazareno, Ina, rosaries, novenas, crowds, big or small doesn’t matter, crowds having fun either to unseat a president or to enjoy a bading beauty contest.  We just love to be with each other.  Americans will kill for country.  Filipinos will kill for friend.  Economics?  Factor incomes?  Welcome to the Philippines.

   And Naty, the stock market index is at 6,600, from 7,400 about a week ago.  The scientific advise is not to sell but to buy more.  Come to think of it, the equity market is as crazy as the beloved country.

   Time is a bit unfair.  What about the Jack’s losing?  He was a shoo-in if JPE had not reversed himself about the Wack-Wack ambush.  JPE could ask for the moon right after the impeachment.  It’s the book that did him in.  Vanity finally killed him.  That only means that voters could discern.  And Mitos?  Didn’t know she could smile.

   Stupid is too strong a word.  Maybe we just love melodrama.  Poor girl with dark-skin, hmm, looks like my favorite daughter or niece or neighbor, besides they couldn’t pin anything on the father, so why not?

Don’t know about election spending powering the 7.8.  We’ve been in that territory for like two or three quarters even before the elections.  It’s consumer-driven, if I ever saw one.  Banapple for instance is always full.  Those are the bunch of kids who push the growth.  They also take vacations locally.  Shrinking western economies are also forcing retirees to consider countries like the Philippines as retirement havens, that explains the construction boom.  In Manulife, for instance, who would imagine an agent making P6.3 million in commissions in one month?  The investment climate is conducive to growth, mutual funds and variable life policies are tempting SDA (special deposit accounts) holders to free up their sleeping funds and help power the growth by supporting the equity market.  Phisix at 7,000+?  A dream before but not anymore.  Rich Filipinos are awash with cash, but it’s in safe places, P1.93 trillion in SDAs alone.  They’re coming out, those with oodles of pesos, because the concerto of malls-restaurants-stocks-vacations are kicking in, thanks to a president who inspires.

Roms, don’t be scared.  Filipinos ain’t stupid anymore.

We love funerals.

What is this about our culture, that we are kinder to the dead than to the living?  Case in point, of course, is Jesse Robredo.  I’m reading now how good a man Jesse was alive.  Is that so?  This is not to denigrate him, it’s more a denigration of those who now sing hossanahs to the dead.  How come not a peep was written consistently about the man’s humble ways.  There were some, but they were like drought rain, few and far between.  Primarily, it’s media’s fault, especially if it involves a bigwig.  I’ve been there.  Remember I pushed press releases for 17 years after college.  I could have a manufactured story printed on the front page with padulas.  Of course.  That’s why I went to life insurance.  I wanted to go to heaven, so I can’t stay in PR, get it?  Public relations, or pa-PR-PR (you know what that means) is exactly that, only I didn’t involve myself in prurient interests although I was just a whisker away.  It was mostly sashimi diplomacy, you know, let’s eat out sort of thing.  Getting to know you sort of thing.  No hanky-panky of the body, only of the mind, when you can push a particular message until it sinks in the public’s subconscious, for example, that the Japanese government is actively pursuing its war reparations program.  Or a cigarette manufacturer is a sports sponsor therefore smoking can’t be bad for the health.  Take your pick, I was for hire, and I could hire others to do my work for me, like having your own newspaper without actually owning it, but you can approach an editor or reporter and viola your teeny-weeny story gets published but it’s only a tail of the real tale that you want to project, because stories such as the these are a series, pointing to a corporate message, get it?

So back to funereal culture and Jesse’s case.  Blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah.  Jesse was a good man, as we all know by now, especially if you’re from Naga, but here’s my case:  media’s going to town, painting the town red to project canonization.  They did that to Dolphy, to Cory, to Ninoy.  Wait, there are times when media is truly patriotic and pious, such as for the Aquinos and Jesse, but can you imagine if you can hire them?  For example, what happens when they can do the same to the likes of Binay, Lacson, Jackie Enrile?  Heaven help us, which brings me to the other side of funereal built-ups, which are demolition jobs.  Oh yes, sweetie pie, media can construct images, it can also deconstruct them.

We should be wary of everything we read, therefore.  Disaster mitigation and information, that’s one thing you can count on media.  They do disasters well.  In fact, they wait for disasters, the more cataclysmic the better.  All in a day’s work.  I should know.  My daughter Bian was in such kind of a job and she backed out of her plans to be a newscaster for CNN (dream) when she overhears: “I hope there’s a disaster today,” from her news editor pals.

So there.  ”I hope there’s a funeral today.”

Next point, people.  No people to read or watch them, no media, right?  Right.  It’s not confined to Filipinos, I suppose.  I suppose one feels threatened when one praises a hard-working upstart from Naga because either he may become a rival for the presidency, or I may be exposed as a coward because if he can do it and I can’t, the joke’s on me.  So why can’t we like Jesse while he is alive?  What’s the point of praising him when he’s not around anymore?  Isn’t it more sincere to imitate him when he’s around to enjoy his reward?  As we hurtle towards the future (do you notice how Christmas just rolls in and out as if months were weeks?), let’s hope that funerals are when we bury our dead, not for making up for what we should have done when it’s not funeral time yet.

Some lessons, if I may:

One, confine media to disaster news and mitigation.  Let them do what they wait for.  As for political news, business news, beware.  If there’s money in it, be sure that media folk are in the periphery.

Two, praise people while they are still alive.  Don’t be stingy.  Appreciate, appreciate, appreciate.  It’s not only good for the recipient, it’s doubly good for the giver.  Releases toxins that accumulate because of lack of activity in the hippocampus (memory and emotions).

Three, don’t wait for the husband to die to interview the prospective widow.  Leni’s a gem, why only now we’re learning that she is so?  Nontraditional media (bloggers) have their work cut out for them.

Lalayo pa ba tayo?

Isang example lang:

“SINGAPORE –The 40 richest people in the Philippines saw their wealth grow over $13 billion to $47.4 billion this year, thanks to a booming remittance-driven economy that outperformed most of the country’s neighbors, according to the latest issue of Forbes Asia.

Lessons:

  1)  It’s not the equipment, it’s the spirit.

  2)  It’s not about looking good, it’s about looking out for good.

  3)  Just when you think you’ve called it a day, the day calls you.

  4)  The Russians have “Enemy at the Gates,” we have him.

  5)  Never look down on someone who’s dressed down.

  6)  When Miriam gets you down, remember that Filipinos can be heroes, too.

  7)  It’s not the country, it’s the love of country.

  8)  Determination (and skill) wins over all odds.

  9)  Practice, practice, practice (but properly).

10)  Read, otherwise we’ll miss his story.

HERO’S STORY: Soldier fights off robbers with rusty rifle and 6 bullets

By Frances Mangosing
INQUIRER.net

Master Sergeant Eleno Leopoldo. PHILIPPINE ARMY

MANILA, Philippines – For Master Sergeant Eleno Leopoldo, 26 years in the Philippine Army has taught him, more than anything else, to respond to the call of duty, under any circumstance.

This was put to the test one afternoon in May when on his way home from his ricefield in Cortes, Surigao del Sur, he heard people shouting, Leopoldo said in an interview with INQUIRER.net Friday.

Leopoldo, 50, said that as soon as he got home to get his rusty and loaded Armscor Squibman Caliber 22 rifle, he heard gunfire. Someone needs help, he said.

A resident of Burgos village for at least two decades, Leopoldo said crime was almost nil in this rural community.

That afternoon, however, Leopoldo said that a businessman-neighbor was robbed by four armed men some 300 meters away. To his surprise as he came closer to the area, the armed men were trying to take the motorcycle of his friend, Tomas Corales.

The robbers hit Corales with a pistol, and shot his son Vincent on both thighs, Leopoldo said.

Leopoldo said he ducked when the robbers saw him armed with a rifle.

He said the robbers retreated, firing at him who only had six bullets loaded in his gun.

The need to hit his target accurately became a pressing one, he said. Marking his sights on the center mass of one of the robbers, he said he fired his first shot from a distance of 50 meters, hitting his target in the abdomen and causing his death. The suspect, he found out later, turned out to be a cop.

As he dodged more bullets, Leopoldo said he lodged another bullet into his single-shot weapon and aimed for another robber as he ordered his neighbors to “hurl stones and fight these criminals”.

When the neighbors threw their stones, Leopoldo said he got the chance to get a good view of the suspects, aiming at the face of one and hitting him at the center of his nose on his second shot.

Some fifty meters away, Leopoldo said he kept firing at the two other robbers who fled aboard a motorcycle.

“I really wanted to get all of them for the crimes they committed in my locality. I chased them but stopped when I had only two remaining bullets,” he said.

The police arrived 10 minutes later, said Leopoldo.

“I was mistaken as one of the suspects because I was walking barefoot and looked dirty. Since I came from my rice paddies, nobody would immediately know that I am a soldier,” he recalled.

Leopoldo said that the police were able to retrieve two pistols from the robbers and a part of the stolen cash was returned to the owner.

“The marksmanship training that I learned in the Army was put to good use. But it is the first time that I have used my shooting skills against criminal gang members,” said Leopoldo, who served in Northern Mindanao.

Members of a shooting group, Long Range Rimfire Philippines, lauded Leopoldo for his deed done “beyond the call of duty”.

Randy Paronda, a champion rifle shooter, promptly recommended to his fellow shooters to reward the soldier-hero.

“I truly appreciate the heroic feat of this soldier. His shining example must be known to all soldiers,” he said.

Lieutenant Colonel George Chua, Commanding Officer of Armscor Ready Reserve Battalion based in Marikina City, pledged the awarding of a brand new 9mm Armscor pistol for Leopoldo.

“We admire Msgt Leopoldo’s heroic actions in defending his community. Armed with a single-shot Armscor rifle, he was unfazed by the dangers posed by the rob gang members who were armed with semi-automatic weapons,” said Chua, who is also the Executive Vice President and Chief Operations Officer of Armscor, a firearms manufacturer.

Other members of the shooting community donated money for Leopoldo’s travel allowance. An awarding ceremony will be held during the annual Defense and Sporting Arms Show in Manila on July 2012.

“I am not happy taking one’s life, but, I was forced do it in order to save the innocent people who needed my help. As a resident here, it is also my responsibility to defend my community against criminals,” said Leopoldo.

Leopoldo, who is in the Army’s 58th Infantry Battalion, will retire in December 2012.

Read more: http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/209243/hero%e2%80%99s-story-soldier-fights-off-robbers-with-rusty-rifle-and-6-bullets#ixzz2X1PjnpyB
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Dear Family,

I read that there’s a move to ask parents who lived under the Marcos rule to write their children about their experience.

Well, here goes:

Ferdinand and Imelda conducted themselves as king and queen.  Personally, I want a monarchy for the Philippines since we are personality- rather than issues-oriented.  I really do not agree that democracy is for us.  We’re such cheats, we’re cheap, insecure, we lack self-esteem, we don’t think we can go through life without political patronage.  We need somebody like Fernando Poe Jr., someone like maybe Clint Eastwood, to unite us, such a superficial people are we, that we go by uncomplicated symbols as gleaned from the movies, but that’s the way we are.  Marcos knew this, and the couple tapped on that mentality of ours.  They could have been king and queen, but the robbing, the lying, the heavy hand and the murdering, the absence of freedom of speech, in exchange for a faux monarchy built on delusions is not worth it.  I agree with the couple’s core principle of leading by charisma and skill, they personified that, but not if you pillage, not if you kill to sustain your rule.

Let me just take you through one concept that enrages me up to now, the total absence of the freedom to voice out your opinion.  Your generation is used to saying it like it is, anyone can insult our leaders, cast aspersions on their mental health, pagkalalake, pagkawalang-alam nowadays.  In our time, no, you cannot to that.  You’ll be chopped to pieces, your remains never to be found if you did that.

If Bongbong ever makes it back to Malacañang by virtue of mass insanity, may God have mercy on our souls.

Love,

Dear Egypt,

This is coming from someone who was in the front lines of the People Power revolt in the Philippines in February 1986, almost exactly 25 years ago, hence, this is like a prophetic message. Go ahead and enjoy your victory in expelling your strongman, just as we did when we forced ours to flee in the dead of night.

It is easy to say that our revolt inspired yours. But please go easy in following us, especially in what happened afterwards. For your benefit, allow me to list down where I think we made mistakes, so that you will not pass the same road as ours 25 years afterwards, still mired in corruption in high places.

One, we did not punish the one who caused our problems. A principle for waging war goes: Never wound a king. You must haul Mubarak to jail, subject to judicial remedies. I cannot overemphasize this point. If you don’t, the same problems will be visited on you, because old habits die hard as do old despots. He or his minions will worm their way back in, believe you me, and you have been warned.

Two, follow through. Activists on the streets must transform to activists in homes, communities, businesses, places of worship, military, government. You will be surprised that after the joyous celebrations in Tahrir Square, you will go back to your homes and communities and you will feel that it is as if nothing historically momentous has happened.

People you love will even want you to act normal again. Resist that. Bear in mind that 25 years from now, your children may get back at you and say, “What happened to the revolution, Papa? How come we are still this way as in the time of Mubarak?”

Three, activists actually abhor desk jobs, humbling jobs that push paper day in and day out. Try to go outside your comfort zones. You must infiltrate the bureaucracy, take over it from the bottom up. You may have booted out the tyrant, but the culture has spawned millions of little Mubaraks, just as we had our own little Marcoses.

Four, resist the thought that miracles happen everyday. “Allahu Akbar!” you shout, just as we said “God is good!” but you know what, God or Allah wants us to walk on our own. Trod the lonely path to national development, plant a good deed everyday, for the future belongs to marathoners not sprinters.

Five, finally, the whopper: it’s the culture. The mistake is in you and me, your wife, mother, father, child. Mubarak and Marcos were Mubarak and Marcos because their cultures were kind to them. From now on, you have to be cruel to be kind. Tough love. You have no moment to lose.

If you want to relax, remember what happened in the Philippines. After Marcos, we still made corrupt officials the godfathers and godmothers of our children, we still gave them places of honor in weddings and other celebrations, we never ostracized them when we should have. Our revolution died on the altar of loving kindness.

Tough love, that’s all, Egypt, that’s all that you should do.

Postscript:

Corruption is like liver cirrhosis. By the time it is diagnosed, it is irreversible. If the cause is too much to drink, the solution is to adopt a moderate lifestyle. Prevention is key in cirrhosis, just as in corruption. We’re bogged down in investigations, but in all probability, monies lost will not be recovered. Sad.

At bottom, what happened in the Philippines was this: we pinned too much hope on our officials. But everyone has a price, we all know that by now. Therefore the only way to change society is to rebuild tissue from the bone, just as in exercise.

In exercise, muscle tissue nearest the bones actually bleed, and when they recover soft tissue becomes firmer muscle. In societal change, you have to build from the homes, daily and with consistency, otherwise you fail to gain muscles of values.

There is no alternative to home love and instruction, daily and with consistency. It’s tissue by tissue, person by person, not chunks of “renewed” communities made up of flabby families. The growth will be slow but sure. If you can do that, Egypt, then you it’ll be your turn to inspire us.

Same,

My reply to Dick Gordon:

“ ‘Has Noynoy addressed the issues in Hacienda Luisita? So why is he running? Because Mommy died. Because Daddy died. So what? Are we voting on the basis of bloodline? Pedigree? Excuse me,’ he fumed in Filipino and English.” – From Philippine Daily Inquirer story on “Gordon Goes Ballistic,” quotation his.

Noynoy said in four years the family would turn over the land to the tenants. I believe him.

So, am I personally voting on the basis of bloodline?

Let me count the ways.

It all started with GMA’s entry, and it’ll end with her exit. The phone call to Garci stinks. Even if the evidence is inadmissible in court, she tainted the election process, coming as it did on the heels of her declaration that she would not run, but run she did.

Maybe she saved us from an FPJ presidency, but still, she prostituted Comelec. And whatever goodwill she had with the people, she completely dissipated with the way she responded to calls for her resignation following the NBN ZTE deal.

And the Ampatuan massacre. And Justice Secretary Alberto Agra’s clearing of two members of the clan in the massacre of 57 people, including 32 media workers, in Maguindanao last year. This happened just weeks away from the most important election this country will ever have. You would think the GMA administration would be more careful about the hurting the sensitivity of the voting population. No, she doesn’t care anymore. If you will stoop so low as to want to be elected congressman after serving as president, to follow a circuitous route to prime ministership, you really are God’s exact opposite.

I remember when Cory Aquino called for prayers for the Marines who had staged a mutiny under Colonel Ariel Querubin in the Marine headquarters in Fort Bonifacio, she did not get the attention of the nation. People power had become an oddity in the country’s history, source of so much hope but had failed our expectations. But when Cory suffered in her long-winded major illness, little by little, people started to remember. They remembered a widow in yellow who inspired the country to regain our democracy from a despot. They remembered the consistency of her faith, the way she treated the people around her, the way she loved and guided Kris throughout her public misadventures, the way Ballsy helped her in Malacañang unassumingly. They remembered our Camelot. From the time Ninoy fell on the airport tarmac to the time Cory passed away after a heroic battle with cancer, Filipinos were in touch with their gentle selves, the Filipino who can still make sacrifices for the greater good, the Filipino who naturally loves family, the Filipino who loves country even if he or she has to pay the highest price.

I remember Noynoy’s face when I saw him working the long lines to Manila Cathedral on the night of August 4 last year. It was past 12 midnight and it was raining. We were drenched from head to toe, but no one said, “Ano bang kalokohan ‘to? Patay na si Cory, wala na tayong magagawa, umuwi na lang tayo, eight hours na tayo dito, ‘no?” Noynoy was almost apologetic, at the same time, he had this look of his, with his eyes bulging through his glasses, the look of a witness, as he had witnessed the love and life and deaths in his family, looking on, and staying and giving the support that the only brother of a brood of mostly sisters knows how to give.

Human beings can spot a bad person by his or her behavior. Inversely, we can identify a good person when we see one. It’s intuitive, a gift of discernment, which has made mankind survive this long. We know how to avoid the bad, and we gather around the good. When finally I saw Cory in her glass casket, shriveled by cancer but still beautiful and peaceful-looking, I was drawn to good. My misgivings with her and her family about Hacienda Luisita, about her “weak” presidency, sailed to the ceiling of Manila Cathedral like a balloon, never to be picked again. We say she should be sainted. Most probably she would be, but I myself was sainted when I, wet, hungry and tired, saw the flower of the Philippines, a rare orchid in glass, knowing that we are not a bad people, certainly not ungovernable, certainly not weak, for we know how to face suffering as Christ taught us by his passion and death.

And resurrection.

When Noynoy accepted the call of the people to run, the country, like a car that sat on the roadside awaiting repair, slowly but surely sputtered back to life. We’re rolling. Thirty-six points in the latest survey, versus 22 for his nearest rival.

Am I voting on the basis of pedigree? You can bet your precious Arreneow accent that I am not.