The ability to memorize is expected to be one of the salient qualities of a plebe's (freshmen or fourthclassmen) character. They are presumed to be walking encyclopedias, Websters, Bergeracs, and newscasters rolled into one. Plebes should know the day's menu, the latest news and virtually everything about his upperclassmen - from their serial numbers to the names of their pets. They must store in their memories a wealth of verse, poetry and "round-the-bush blubberings" of wisdom known as plebe knowledges and be able to recite all these verbatim as well.
These knowledges are mostly definitions or phrases which plebes are required to memorize by heart and answer snappily when asked by their upperclassmen. It sort of tests their presence of mind and trains them to react quickly by responding smartly with ready answers. Following are some Plebe Knowledges which our fellow Cavaliers and friends still remembered and contributed:
If you work for a man, in heaven's name work for him. If he pays you wages which supply your bread and butter, speak well of him and stand by the institution he represents; because if put to a pinch or a test, an ounce of loyalty is worth a pound of cleverness.
If you must vilify, criticize, condemn and eternally disparage, resign your position; and when you're outside that company, then you may damn and criticize to your heart's content. But as long as you are a part of that institution, do not condemn or criticize it.
If you do criticize it, you are loosening the tendrils, the key factors that are holding you to that institution. And at the first high wind, you will probably be uprooted and blown away, and may never know the reason why...
When things go wrong as they sometimes will, When the road you're trudging seems all uphill, When the funds are low and the debts are high, And you want to smile but you have to sigh, When care is pressing you down a bit, Rest if you must, but don't you quit. Life is queer with its twists and turns, As everyone of us sometimes learns, And many a failure turns about, When he might have won had he stuck it out; Don't give up though the pace seems slow - You may succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than, It seems to a faint and faltering man, Often the struggler has given up, When he might have won the victor's cup. And he learned too late when the light came down, How close he was to the golden crown. Success is failure turned inside out. The silver tint of the clouds of doubt, And you never can tell how close you are, It maybe near when is seems far; So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit - It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.
"Go placidly amid the noise and haste & remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak you truth quietly & clearly; and listen to others, even the dull & ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud & aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain & bitter; for always there will be greater & lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity & disenchantment it is perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue & loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees & the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors & aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery & broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy." By: Max Ehrmann
Sir, I came from the land of the Kings, where everyone can do what he wishes. I hike the plains of Luzon and hurdled the mountains of Baguio just to reach my precious destination ... The Philippine Military Academy. Now, I am here as a plebe, a ducrot to the thirdclassmen, a chicken to the secondclassmen and a good neighbor to the firstclassmen. Now, are you resigning? No sir, over the dead and rotten body of fourthclassman (state name of a plebe,) Sir.
Sir, the answer is very simple. The forces coming from the itinerate glances of the Immaculates are so powerful that the circulation of the corpuscles of the plebes upon which the stare is applied is integrated. This results in the gyrostatic effect on the paradoxical interior of the legs, thus, double-timing ensues. This develops an invulnerable machine in the body of the degraded mammal due to the action of the rectilinear eyes.
Sir, he's here, and there, and everywhere. He comes and goes and then reappears in the most unholy places and hours where the Dumbguards are caught unaware. Along the deserted sacred grounds he peeps and then circles around. Poor ducrots tremble like a clown as the immaculate upperclassmen begin to frown, Sir!
Sir, a kiss! When all is said, what is a kiss? An oath of allegiance taken at closer proximity, a promise more precise, a seal upon a confession, a rose red dot upon the letter "i" in loving; an instant of eternity murmuring like a bee, a balmy communion with the flavor of the flowers, a secret which elects the mouth for the ears, a fashion of inhaling each other's heart and of tasting the brink of each other's lips, each other's soul. This, Sir, is a kiss.
Sir, the cow? She is acted upon by the unbalanced forces of Mechanics, stranded in the superheated region of Thermodynamics, electrocuted in Electrical Engineering, brainwashed and cross-eyed in History, sore-footed in Tactics and running short in letters. In short and simple language, the cow is rotting, Sir.
Sir, that question has been languishing in my heart, devouring myself totally and fatally polluting my mind. I became your untaxable property and that surging question could be the cause of all evils that might beseech my family; its sparkle will be lost to a demon like you - whom I would like to ram from head to throat - asking that question with a ten peso balance in your checking account, we might be on the same boat Sir. So may I ask you the same question, Do you have a sister or a daughter, Sir?
Sir, if it takes a bird from outer space travelling at the speed of a turtle that is taking his time and picks a grain of sand from the earth and brings it back to the place where he came from and deposits it there and does the process once in every million years, and after picking all the minute grains of sand on earth and depositing them on the bank of the galaxies of heaven, he brings them back to their places, eternity shall have just begun. I hope that the lazy and dumb bird will travel forth and my chinning and double-timing be made shorter than the beginning of eternity, Sir.
Sir, I am deeply embarrassed and greatly humiliated that due to unforeseen circumstances over which I have no control, the inner workings and hidden mechanism of my chronometer are such in accord with the great real movement over which time is commonly reckoned, that I cannot with any degree of accuracy state the exact time , Sir; but without fear of being very far off, I will state that it is so many minutes after the Xth hour.
Sir, they twinkle as the stars above. They glimmer as the worms glowing on the grass beneath. Ah, yes a handsome young man and I won't give a damn. Hurrah for the light that shines in the night. All right for the light, Sir?
Sir, if the fresh skin of an animal, cleaned and divested of all hair, fat, and other extraneous matter, be immersed in a dilute solution of tannic acid, a chemical combination ensues, the gelatinous tissue of the skin is converted into a nonputrescible substance, impervious to and insoluble in water. This, Sir, is a lether.
Sir, my cranium consisting of Vermont marble, volcanic lava and African ivory, covered with a thick layer of case-hardened steel, forms an impenetrable barrier to all that seeks to impress itself upon the ashen tissues of my brain. Hence, the effulgent and obstentatiously effervescent phrases just now directed and reiterated for my comprehension have failed to penetrate the confiferous forest of my atrocious intelligence. In other words, I am very dumb and I do not understand, Sir!
Sir, life is as monotonous as the curvilinear concubitant wave of the peristaltic motion of a dilated cell. It is as tense as the state existing among the molecules of a highly compressed gas. As barren as the deserts of Africa where plants never grow. As gloomy as the thoughts of a thousand eunuchs on the death of Cleopatra. As hopeless as the crew of Christopher Columbus panic-stricken in the sea of darkness. As discouraging as the graceful shape of the adiabatic curve. As smooth as the sine curve, endless as the parabola, stubborn as the catenary, and meaningless as an imaginary function. Its memory brings an extraordinary sensation which tickles the convolutions of the brain and the cells of the spinal cord. In plain and simple language, life is a conglomeration of things too serious for a fool to appreciate, Sir.
Sir, my femme, she is the living incarnate of all that is beautiful, in the facial contortions of a nagging housewife, in the flowing crystalline teardrop of a jilted sweetheart, in the libertine smile of a long-faced schoolgirl, in the fussy whims of a spinster, in the mystic reserve of a nightclub entertainer, and in the descriptive countenance of an ampotheric clown. She walks with the breeze of the summer breeze; her beauty smacks of the illusive fragrance of the roses at dawn. Her hair is as dark as ebony, long and silken and shines with the gloss and luster of a fading gossamer. In short and simple language, she is too beautiful for words, Sir.
Sir, the weather? It pleases me much, sir. From my crystal bowl, I could see the gathering clouds of uncertainty. My ultra-penetrative vision discern the fate befalling me. I see from these gathering clouds the limpid smile of your drag, her ambitious chuckle which prophecies a bright and happy date, the hypocritical scorn of an immaculate and cognizable warning which usually comes before the storm of a hectic and active day. Yes, Sir! The weather shows a slight barometric change which I hope and pray wouldn't affect you and ultimately me. And if my crystal bowl doesn't fail me, I foresee a happy day for you, Sir!
Theophilus Thistle the successful thistle sifter in shifting sieve full of unsifted thistles thrust three thousand thistles throught the thick of this thumb. Now, if Theophilus Thistle the successful thistle sifter in shifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles thrusts three thousand thistles through the thick of his thumb that in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles thrust not three thousand thistles through the thick of this thumb, success to the success to the successful thistle sifter, Sir.
Esau Wood sawed wood. Esau Wood would saw wood. All the woods Esau Wood saw, Esau Wood would saw. In other words, all the woods Esau saw, Esau sought to saw. Oh, the wood Wood would saw and oh the wood saw with which Wood saw wood. But one day, Wood's wood-saw would saw no wood, and thus the wood Wood sawed was not the wood Wood would saw if the Wood's wood-saw would wish a wood saw that would saw wood, so Esau sought a saw that would saw wood. One day Esau saw a saw. Saw would that no other wood saw Wood saw would saw wood. In fact, of all the soodsaw Wood ever saw saw wood, wood never saw a wood-saw that wouold saw wood as the wood-saw. Wood saw would saw until I saw Esau wood saw wood with the wood-saw would saw saw wood. Now Wood saws wood with the wood-saw Wood saw saw wood.
Sir, from the simple handshake of recognition to the rotting days of academics, the yearling is still at a loss under the scrutinizing eyes of the firstclassmen, the witty jokes of the secondclassmen, and the extreme laxities of the fourthclassmen. The yearling, given only a few months of rapid growth will develop into a young cow, Sir!
Sir, my combat boots, from the thickest skin of an animal processed by tanning chemicals and great machineries of Joenacs painted black and rich indigo, immersed and the L-shaped footwear commonly called the combat shoes transported as far as Manila to the hills of Baguio to be worn on the rugged mountains of Taklang Damulag. My combat boots is softened by the daily use of the relaxing plebes. My combat boots would carry on the thrills of plebehood challenge to yearlinghood which the words are too telling to say.
To three cups of intellect and two cups of character, add four teaspoons of physical build-up, and two teaspoons of leadership training. Sift together throughly, then stir in an equal amount of passion and energy. Add three teaspoons of courage. Season to taste with study of tactics and strategy, then fold in generous amount of planning. Make arrangement with major cooks and reconnoiter the terrain for electric applicances and push-button devices. Complete plans by placing in a pan of dispute well greased with security. Sprinkle with the seriousness of the Principles of War. Allow to set in an atmosphere of panther-like readiness. Bake in an oven of decision. When well done, issue orders and supervise, removing and tapping with thick spreads of actions and pursuits. Serve our country in a bowl of victory garnished with smiles.
Sir, Cadet Dugomon, he is the symbol of all that is bold and handsome, in the grand posture of a dashing gentleman, and the warm and tender lips of a great lover in the mystic smile of a victorious soldier in the masculine build of an Olympian God and a courage of a thousand warriors. He walks with the strength of a lion and with the gentleness of the morning wind. His personality smacks at the solid rocks that kick the rushing waves of the shore. His eyes are as brown as roasty chestnuts clear and tantalizing glows with the rays of the settling sun. In short and simple language, Cadet Dugomon is very handsome, Sir! (By Christopher Aquino Tanabe '76)
Sir, the sickcall? It originated from the seemingly insignificant ache from the malingerer's body which theoretically increases proportionally to the drills, parades, and inspections. This is a product of a shabby mental attitude of those who raised to the 9th degree power their argument, real or imagination. In short and simple language, sickcall identifies those who should be returned to their mothers, Sir!
Immediately past the innocence of childhood and the freedom of bachelorhood comes the incredible creature known as a wife. Wives come in assorted colors that vary from day to day - platinum blonde, ash blonde, redhead, brunnette, hyena, auburn and camel brown. According to a recent survey, by the way, more doctors are switching to camel-haired women than ever before.
All wives have one creed in common, to spend every nickel of every dime of every dollar of every pay check before you get it. In this respect, they are very much like the government. Wives are found everywhere - in reducing saloons, bridge parties, 5th avenue beauty parlors, bargain basements, in your chair, on your lap, in mud packs, maternity rooms and ... going through your pockets.
Mothers love them, mothers-in-law tolerate them, spinsters envy them, and husbands fear them. A wife is a purity with cold cream on her face, dignity with a dish rug in her hands, beauty with curlers on her hair, and wisdom with an unbalanced checkbook. No matter how busy you are, your wife keeps you on the phone till she gets her new dress she saw downtown. But when you try to show her off, she hasn't got a thing to wear.
A wife is a composite of many things - the curiosity of an income tax collector, the suspicion of a detective, the imagination of a psycho-analyst, and the temper of a marine first-sergeant. She likes charged accounts, babies, soap bubbles, chits and all kinds of presents, gossip, a 21-inch waistline, mink coats, cleeping late, eating out and ... other men.
She hates corsets, ironing, being over thirty, husbands who use gurst towels, budgets, cigars, her husband's secretary and ... other women. Nobody could get so happy on one glass of champagne, or be so late to so many appointments. Nobody could spend so much time in front of the mirror plucking, vibrating, combing, brushing, polishing, rubbing off, touching up and still come out looking very much like the same.
In short and simple language, a wife is heaven and hell altogether, Sir!
