“I Admit It: I Love Watching MMDA Clearing Operations”

 “I Admit It: I Love Watching MMDA Clearing Operations”

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr. MD

There are probably many things a normal, well-adjusted adult should enjoy watching.

A good movie.

A beautiful sunset.

A sporting event.

Perhaps even a documentary about something educational.

Me?

I enjoy watching MMDA clearing operations.

I admit it.

There is something deeply satisfying about watching a tow truck arrive for a vehicle that has been illegally parked.

I know that sounds terrible.

But hear me out.

There is a particular kind of satisfaction that comes from seeing a rule actually being enforced in real time.

You see a car parked where it should not be. Traffic is already suffering because of it. Then, eventually, the MMDA arrives.

The tow truck appears.

And suddenly, the owner comes running.

That is when the entertainment begins.

Suddenly, the person who was perfectly comfortable leaving the vehicle wherever they wanted becomes very interested in explaining why the rules should not apply to them.

“I'll only be here for a few minutes.”

“I was just buying something.”

“May I explain?”

And, my personal favorite:

“Kilala ko si Mayor.”

Sometimes it is not the mayor.

Sometimes it is somebody from the barangay.

Sometimes it is somebody who supposedly knows somebody who knows somebody.

There always seems to be a mysterious connection somewhere.

And yet the tow truck remains.

That, for me, is the beautiful part.

Because the tow truck does not care who you know.

It does not care about your position.

It does not care about your explanation.

It is simply there to do its job.

And when the vehicle finally gets hooked up, there is this strange moment when the entire argument suddenly becomes much less philosophical.

The car is moving.

The law has been applied.

And everybody watching understands exactly what happened.

I think that is what I actually enjoy about these clearing operations.

It is not really about seeing someone suffer a consequence.

It is about seeing something that often feels absent from everyday life:

Accountability.

We encounter small violations everywhere. People park on sidewalks. They block intersections. They occupy spaces meant for pedestrians. They stop wherever it is convenient for them and expect everyone else to adjust.

And most of the time, nothing happens.

So when something finally does happen, it feels almost cathartic.

Of course, watching these operations also reminds me that there is another side to it.

These confrontations can become ugly very quickly.

People get angry.

Enforcers get shouted at.

Drivers become defensive.

Somebody inevitably starts recording.

Someone else starts invoking connections.

And before long, what began as a simple traffic violation becomes a full-blown argument about authority, privilege, respect, and who supposedly has the right to tell whom what to do.

That part is not particularly entertaining.

It is exhausting.

Which is probably why I have learned that this particular guilty pleasure is best consumed in moderation.

Still, I cannot deny it.

There is something satisfying about watching a tow truck arrive at exactly the right moment.

Especially when the person who parked illegally suddenly discovers that they have a very important phone call to make.

Maybe that makes me petty.

Maybe it makes me a terrible person.

Or maybe, after spending years watching people bend rules because they assume there will never be consequences, there is simply something reassuring about seeing a system occasionally work exactly as it is supposed to.

No shouting.

No connections.

No special treatment.

Just a tow truck.

And a very expensive lesson in parking properly.

I admit it.

I love watching MMDA clearing operations.

Just don't ask me to explain why.

I might have to call someone.

Preferably someone who knows the tow truck driver.

"The Longing of Miracles."

 "The Longing of Miracles."

by:

Virgilio F, De leon Jr.MD

I

After the Dark Winters , The Warm springs always come

Promises shouted in the quiet return as what they are

Emerging from the fervent dreams of Miracles

The 6 return with a blinding light that engulfs.

II

Hands reach out in the darkness , searching for answers

How long has it  been since you answered?

With every step toward that promised Mild spring

The thawing of once frozen hearts begin.

III

Longing to see you once more. Stand where you should be.

Along the dazzling lights and blazing sounds.

No longer in our dreams. No longer in our hearts.

But in the reality that we have long since wished.

McKinley West. September 24 , 2026. 11:44pm

“I Just Wanted to Play Tifa. Then the Math Happened.”

“I Just Wanted to Play Tifa. Then the Math Happened.”

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

I already understood that Reality Fracture was going to pour goodies all over Magic players.

That usually happens with the in-universe sets. Thankfully, WotC still hasn't forgotten that its core followers include those of us who still want cards that actually look and feel like Magic cards—and, more importantly, cards that will actually matter in our EDH games.

So when they announced that there would be a Green Valakut in this set, I immediately wondered what it would look like.

And sitting on my left is my Tifa Good Stuff deck, which I have been continuously improving as pieces for it appear, one set at a time.

Then I saw Roiling Canopy.

Every time a Forest enters the battlefield, as long as you control at least five other Forests, you get to give a creature you control +3/+3 until end of turn.

I could instantly see Tifa smiling.

Frankly, so could I.

And then I encountered the one thing every Magic player eventually fears:

Eww. Math.

Specifically, math involving potential combat damage.

I honestly just wanted a quiet night to write. Instead, this interaction sent me down a Tifa-shaped rabbit hole, trying to figure out exactly how far I could push her power for that glorious one-shot kill.

So here we go.

I started with Tifa, Azusa, Roiling Canopy, Yavimaya, Cradle of Growth, and five Forests.

I then decided to replace one of my original Forests with Yavimaya and see what would happen if I played three fetch lands, each one fetching another Forest.

And that's when I realized what Yavimaya was doing to the math.

Yavimaya makes every land on the battlefield a Forest in addition to its other types.

That means my fetch lands aren't just fetch lands anymore.

They are Forests.

So I play my first fetch land.

Tifa sees a land enter the battlefield and doubles her power:

1 → 2

But because the fetch land is also a Forest thanks to Yavimaya, Roiling Canopy triggers as well:

2 → 5

Then I crack the fetch land and bring a Forest onto the battlefield.

Tifa doubles again:

5 → 10

And Roiling Canopy gives her another +3/+3:

10 → 13

At this point, I'm already starting to suspect that I have made a terrible financial decision by owning this deck.

But I still have two fetch lands.

So I play the second one.

Tifa doubles:

13 → 26

Roiling Canopy:

26 → 29

I crack the fetch land and fetch another Forest.

Tifa doubles again:

29 → 58

Roiling Canopy adds another three:

58 → 61

Tifa is now sitting at 61 power.

And I still have one more fetch land.

So naturally, I play it.

Tifa:

61 → 122

Roiling Canopy:

122 → 125

Then I crack the fetch land and bring in my final Forest.

Tifa doubles:

125 → 250

And because that Forest is, obviously, a Forest, Roiling Canopy gives her another +3/+3.

250 → 253.

And there it is.

253-power Tifa.

The progression looks absolutely ridiculous when written out:

1 → 5 → 13 → 29 → 61 → 125 → 253

And that's when I finally understood what Yavimaya had done to this little experiment.

Without Yavimaya, my three fetch lands would give me three Tifa landfall triggers from the fetch lands themselves, followed by three more when they brought in Forests.

That's six landfall events.

But with Yavimaya?

Every fetch land is also a Forest.

So those same three fetch lands don't merely give me six landfall events.

They give me six landfall events and six Roiling Canopy triggers.

Every single land entering the battlefield is now contributing to the madness.

At this point, I am no longer playing a reasonable Tifa deck.

I am conducting a controlled experiment to determine exactly how many Forests it takes to turn Tifa Lockhart into a natural disaster.

Apparently, the answer is six landfall events.

253 power.

And somewhere across the table, my opponent is probably rereading Yavimaya, Cradle of Growth, Roiling Canopy, and Tifa Lockhart in exactly that order, trying to figure out where everything went horribly wrong.

Meanwhile, I'm just sitting there thinking:

I really should have gone to bed.

But at least now I know how hard Tifa can punch.

"Draconic Visitor: Because Apparently One Dragon Is Never Enough."

"Draconic Visitor: Because Apparently One Dragon Is Never Enough."

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr. MD

I am always on the lookout for new Dragons in every Magic: The Gathering set.

Aside from the fact that I collect them, I also enjoy upgrading my existing Dragon decks. And if a new Dragon is really good, there is always the possibility that I might just build an entirely new deck around it.

So, naturally, I was fairly disappointed when the opposite version of the Strixhaven founders gave us Sphinxes instead.

Yes.

Sphinxes.

I was looking for Dragons.

But then they spoiled this five-mana 5/5 flyer, and suddenly I became interested again.

Draconic Visitor has some serious potential.

Because apparently, this Dragon doesn't just want to join your Dragon deck.

It wants to make more Dragons.

All you need is one other Dragon on the battlefield.

And one particularly interesting candidate is Ganax, Astral Hunter, who already has a very useful relationship with Treasure tokens. Whenever Ganax or another Dragon enters the battlefield under your control, you get a Treasure token.

Now add Draconic Visitor to the equation.

Draconic Visitor turns those artifact tokens into 5/5 Dragon tokens.

Ganax sees the new Dragon enter the battlefield and creates another Treasure.

Draconic Visitor sees that Treasure and turns it into another 5/5 Dragon.

Ganax sees that Dragon enter.

Another Treasure.

Draconic Visitor sees the Treasure.

Another Dragon.

Another Treasure.

Another Dragon.

You see where this is going.

It's an infinite loop.

Of course, because Magic is Magic, you eventually need a way to actually stop the loop.

You need some way to sacrifice one of the Dragons or otherwise break the cycle.

But honestly…

Who cares?

If you've already created a million 5/5 flying Dragons, losing two of them seems like a pretty reasonable price to pay.

At that point, you're not exactly going to be counting your losses.

And this doesn't even have to stop with Ganax.

In a Jund EDH deck, you could also bring in Smaug, Wicked Worm, whose enters-the-battlefield ability can create a pile of Treasure based on the artifacts your opponents control.

If Draconic Visitor is on the battlefield, suddenly those Treasures aren't just sitting there waiting to be cracked for mana.

They're potential 5/5 Dragons.

And then there is Bootleggers' Stash.

This one gets particularly silly.

Bootleggers' Stash gives all your lands the ability to tap for a Treasure token.

Which means that, at the end of an opponent's turn, you can simply tap your lands and start producing Treasures at instant speed.

And if Draconic Visitor is sitting there?

Well…

Treasure becomes Dragon.

Dragon becomes more Treasure.

Treasure becomes more Dragon.

At this point, I am basically turning my mana base into a Dragon factory.

And maybe Old Gnawbone would fit right into this deck as well.

After all, Old Gnawbone makes sure that the damage your Dragons deal to your opponents comes back as Treasure.

Which means we have another way of generating the very resource Draconic Visitor wants.

So yes, I went into this looking for new Dragons because I am a Dragon collector.

I was disappointed when I saw Sphinxes.

And then Draconic Visitor showed up and reminded me of one of the most dangerous sentences in Magic:

“Wait… I think I can build a deck around this.”

Yup.

This one is pretty high on my list.

"Extinction: Why Were the Zombies So Bad at Being Zombies?

 "Extinction: Why Were the Zombies So Bad at Being Zombies?

by:

Virgilio F. De Leon Jr., MD

Extinction is a family drama with a little bit of mutated zombies thrown into the mix.

And because I have somehow managed to watch almost every zombie movie and series available on Netflix, I finally got around to watching this one.

And, well…

I’m not really sure if it was because I was sleep-deprived and getting increasingly annoyed with the pacing, or if the movie genuinely needed a lot more zombie screen time.

The story follows three survivors of a zombie apocalypse, almost a decade after they narrowly escaped death.

One of them is a baby who has now grown into a nine-year-old girl.

Don't ask me how she managed to survive the apocalypse all those years ago. I assume milk was not exactly the first item on everyone's survival checklist.

Anyway, she is now nine years old and hopelessly bored with how carefully her “Daddy” has protected her from the outside world.

And this brings me back to something I have always found fascinating about young people:

They have absolutely no imagination of how terrible the world can be.

This nine-year-old wants to see the world.

Well, kid…

You're about to see it.

The third member of their little survivor group runs a radio station in the middle of their small town, conveniently located right across the street from the other two.

And he is the first person to encounter the mutated White zombies.

Which brings me to my first question:

How exactly did the zombies mutate into these things?

They look like something that wandered out of A Quiet Place—completely blind and heavily dependent on their hearing to hunt.

I mean, sure. It's a zombie apocalypse. I'm willing to accept a certain amount of scientific nonsense.

But I would still like to know how we got from regular zombies to alien-looking creatures with super-hearing.

And more importantly:

Why didn't they attack the row of houses?

These creatures can obviously hunt during the day, so why are these people somehow living in a relatively peaceful little neighborhood while these things are apparently roaming around?

Then there is Peter, who runs the radio station.

Peter likes to blast loud music at night.

Very loud music.

Which makes me wonder how the White zombies weren't constantly drawn toward the radio station.

We already see that when just one of these things captures something, it can apparently make enough noise to attract the others.

So Peter is sitting there broadcasting loud music all night, and somehow the zombies are like:

“Nah. That's probably nothing.”

Just reasons.

Then, weirdly enough, the movie shifts back into family drama.

The three survivors eventually encounter a fourth survivor, a pregnant woman who has somehow survived an attack by the Whites.

And, unfortunately, that is pretty much her role in the movie.

She panics.

She tells them what happened.

She panics some more.

And then she continues being pregnant while everyone else deals with the actual plot.

To be fair, she does survive the movie.

Peter does not.

And this is where we finally discover that Peter was actually the girl's biological father.

Apparently, nine years earlier, he had killed his wife when she was about to turn into a zombie.

So his sacrifice at the end is supposed to be his redemption.

Outnumbered and cornered, Peter deliberately draws the White zombies toward himself so the other three can escape in a truck.

And here we reach another important question.

Was the truck silent?

Because I don't think trucks are particularly famous for being quiet.

Peter is making himself into a giant zombie magnet while the others drive away in a truck that presumably makes a considerable amount of noise.

So why weren't the zombies following them?

Did they suddenly decide:

“You know what? We've had enough excitement for tonight.”

Just reasons.

Eventually, the movie ends with the survivors looking out toward the coast, with the future still uncertain.

The nine-year-old seems happy.

She finally gets to see the world outside the little bubble her father had created for her.

And I suppose that is the point.

The movie is ultimately about survival, family, guilt, sacrifice, and the desire to see what lies beyond the walls that have protected you.

Which is actually a pretty decent premise.

Unfortunately, I spent a significant portion of the movie wondering why the zombies weren't attacking things that were making extremely obvious zombie-attracting noises.

Maybe I was too tired.

Maybe I was expecting too much.

Or maybe after watching approximately every zombie movie Netflix has ever thrown at me, I have developed unreasonable expectations about zombie behavior.

But as I sat there watching the credits roll, I could only think:

I am 49 years old.

I have survived adulthood, medicine, responsibilities, traffic, and apparently an entire Netflix catalog of zombie movies.

And after all that…

I think Extinction was the thing that finally killed me.

Not the zombies.

The pacing.

"Every. Effing. Artifact.: Why Memnarch Has My Attention."

 "Every. Effing. Artifact.: Why Memnarch Has My Attention."

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

One of the things I saw in the Reality Fracture EDH precon spoilers that gave my heart a little twinge was Memnarch.

Not the Memnarch I knew and loved.

Well… technically, it is Memnarch.

But this is the good Memnarch.

The Echoverse version.

A far cry from the Memnarch who spent his time stealing other creatures from other planes and generally making everyone’s life miserable.

This Memnarch is Memnarch, the Warden.

And honestly?

I like this guy.

A lot.

For starters, he is a ten-mana colorless Wizard who is also an indestructible 8/9.

This guy is tough.

Really, really tough.

He also creates two 1/1 colorless Myr artifact creature tokens.

Those lovable little metal guys that were scattered all over Mirrodin, doing all sorts of jobs before the Phyrexians came along and decided that everyone needed to have a much worse day.

But that's not even the part that got me excited.

The really exciting thing about this Memnarch is what happens when he attacks.

You draw a card for each artifact you control.

Each.

Effing.

Artifact.

Read that again.

Every artifact.

And immediately, my brain went straight to my Sai, Master Thopterist Commander deck.

Because Sai does not believe in owning a reasonable number of artifacts.

Sai believes in production.

You cast artifacts.

You make Thopters.

You make more artifacts.

You sacrifice artifacts.

You make more tokens.

And eventually your battlefield starts looking less like a Commander deck and more like a small industrial complex.

And now Memnarch walks into that mess and says:

"You know all those artifacts you have?"

"Yes?"

"Draw a card for each one."

Excuse me?

Each one?!

This is the kind of card that gets me more excited than some of the other obviously powerful cards in the precon.

Because this is exactly the kind of ridiculous interaction that makes me want to build a deck.

I can already see the battlefield.

Sai has been doing Sai things.

There are artifacts everywhere.

Thopters are everywhere.

Myr are everywhere.

Somehow there are probably several other tokens whose original purpose I have completely forgotten.

And then Memnarch attacks.

And suddenly my artifact army isn't just an army.

It's a library search system with legs.

Yes, Memnarch costs ten mana.

Yes, that is a lot of mana.

But when the reward is potentially drawing a card for every artifact you control, I suddenly find myself asking a very dangerous question:

"How many artifacts can I make?"

And if you have played enough Commander, you already know that this is how it starts.

You tell yourself you're just going to add a few cards.

Then you need more artifact generators.

Then more token makers.

Then more ways to sacrifice them.

Then more ways to recur them.

Then suddenly you're staring at your decklist at two in the morning wondering why you have 47 artifacts.

And somewhere in the middle of all that madness, Memnarch is sitting there waiting to turn every single one of them into another card.

That Reality Fracture precon was already looking interesting.

But now?

It's looking really, really fine.

"Brewer’s Madness: At Last, The Ur-Sphinx Has Arrived."

 "Brewer’s Madness: At Last, The Ur-Sphinx Has Arrived."

By:

Virgilio F. De Leon Jr., MD

Every once in a while, I am afflicted with a condition I like to call Brewer’s Madness.

It is an all-consuming desire to build decks—Commander decks, specifically. And not just decks that are proven to work. No, I have a particular talent for trying to make decks work even when the tribe or strategy has absolutely no business being supported.

My last bout of Brewer’s Madness had me brewing decks for Spiders and Turtles.

Oh, and a third tribe:

Sphinxes.

Now that there is an abundance of Spider and Turtle commanders, I have been able to look at the situation with a slightly more sober mind and wonder:

When are the Sphinxes finally going to get their turn?

And then The Ur-Sphinx was spoiled as part of the Reality Fracture preconstructed Commander deck.

I finally got to say:

“Ah. There you are. At last.”

Aside from Sharuum the Hegemon, I really couldn't remember a Sphinx lord that I would consider a great commander to lead the tribe. I had previously settled for Unesh from Amonkhet to lead the way.

But now?

With five new Sphinxes from Reality Fracture, plus this new Sphinx Avatar, Unesh can finally take his rightful place in the 99.

Enter the Ur-Sphinx

The Ur-Sphinx gathers its brethren in only Esper colors, giving us access to white, blue, and black.

It is a nine-mana, flying 10/10 with the much-celebrated Eminence mechanic, allowing you to cast your larger Sphinxes for a colorless mana discount.

And finally, we have what I would call a proper Sphinx Matters Commander deck.

The Ur-Sphinx rewards you for attacking with Sphinxes. For each Sphinx that attacks, each player mills that many cards.

And then comes the really fun part:

For each player, you may cast a card that player milled this way for free.

Yes.

For free.

Now let's talk about that kind of value.

The more Sphinxes you attack with, the more cards everyone mills, and the larger your potential pool of free spells becomes.

Most permanents and spells can be cast this way without paying their mana costs. Lands are the obvious exception, which is one of the areas where the Ur-Sphinx is more limited than its draconic counterpart, the Ur-Dragon.

The Ur-Dragon can simply drop permanents onto the battlefield through its ability.

The Ur-Sphinx, on the other hand, needs to dig through the cards that were milled and find something worth stealing.

But that is still an absurd amount of potential value.

Let's say you attack with three Sphinxes.

Each player mills three cards.

With four players at the table, that's 12 cards milled across the entire pod.

Then you get to choose a card from each player's milled cards and cast those four cards for free.

That's four free spells from a pool of 12 cards.

And suddenly, my little Sphinx deck doesn't look so little anymore.

The Dragon Problem

I have to admit, though, that the Ur-Sphinx feels a little more limited than its dragon counterpart.

The Ur-Dragon doesn't particularly care what it puts onto the battlefield. If you can get a permanent into play, great.

The Ur-Sphinx needs something useful to be milled.

That introduces a little more uncertainty.

But honestly?

I'm okay with that.

Because watching three or four giant Sphinxes attack while simultaneously turning everyone's libraries into a buffet of potentially free spells sounds like exactly the kind of nonsense that makes Commander fun.

I still love my Dragons.

The Ur-Dragon has already earned its place in my heart—and probably several thousand dollars worth of cardboard in my collection.

But I might seriously consider building this Esper Sphinx Avatar in the future.

After all, I already have most of the cards that would fit right into it.

And that is usually how Brewer's Madness begins.

You tell yourself:

“I already have most of the cards.”

Then you buy the cards you're missing.

Then you realize you need a few upgrades.

Then you need a few more Sphinxes.

Then suddenly you have a deck.

And somehow, against all reason, you are already thinking about the next one.

Brewer's Madness strikes again.

At last, though, the Sphinxes have given me a reason to embrace it.