The Law of Sara Duterte
It could have been Asiong Salonga swaggering into the slums; hair gelled and fists ready, providing the opening sequence for the presidency of a man named Joseph Estrada. It could have been Bong Revilla, Alyas Pogi, belly sucked in, bandanna wrapped around his head, half-naked women clinging to his pudgy arms. It could have been any one of them—Fernando Poe Jr., Robin Padilla, Lito Lapid riding in as Leon Guerrero. Roll the music, signal the extras, let the heroine scream, let the villain laugh. Enter the hero.
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Brotherhood of Bigots
In the Church of Nicodemo Ferrer, God is a bigot, and his apostles fly first class.
In a decision penned with commissioners Elias Yusoph, Armando Velasco and Lucenito Tagle, Commission on Elections Commissioner Ferrer proclaimed multimillionaire Juan Miguel “Mikey” Macapagal Arroyo, son of former President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, the legitimate representative of the nation’s security guards and tricycle drivers. Ferrer, Yusoph and Tagle make up the same holy trinity that replaced the Constitution with the fire-and-brimstone rantings of a Pennsylvanian Baptist preacher from an online website when they justified banning gay representatives from government.
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In protest
THIS COLUMN will be happy. It will revolt against itself. The words will slick on red lipstick; the verbs will step into high heels. Sentences will saunter barelegged in a blackout, will swing up to the painted green top of a damp table to dance in the blinking light of mobile phones just before the batteries die. Punctuations will boogie to graffiti and bop to vodka, will dance until the heels slip on spilled ice and a sky the color of Juan Ponce Enrile’s hair opens in needle-lashing rage.
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The savage state of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo
His name is Rei-Mon Guran; he was a left-wing student leader at Aquinas University. His friends called him Ambo. On his 21st birthday, his parents took him to a bus terminal where they watched him load his bags for school. He was still in the back of the bus when they found him, with four bullets from a .45 cal. pistol lodged in his head.
His name is Raymond Manalo, and he was a farmer. The armed men took him on Valentine’s Day. He was also 21. They said he was a communist. They beat him with chains and planks; poured his own piss down his nose, stuffed him into a four-by-one foot cell with three other men. When he escaped, he talked about the man in the next cell, who lost his mind and hanged himself with the garter from his underwear.
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For the love of Noynoy Aquino
It is Independence Day in the land of the yellow morning, where the moon is a greasy pearl, freedom is a Twitter hashtag and the brave bawl in their cradles (unless the cradles were pawned for the rose-red heart of a bottle of cheap gin). Philippine Airlines offers a “Proud and Free” Promo for the patriotic Filipino—$135 for Hong Kong, $690 for Honolulu, $790 Las Vegas (not including government taxes and ticketing service fees). In New York’s 20,000-strong Filipino community celebration, Christian Bautista sings “Beautiful Girl” and “Can We Just Stop and Talk Awhile,” Carlo Orosa soars with the “Impossible Dream,” Sarah Geronimo is “well-applauded” for “You Changed My Life,” and fortunately remembers to sing “Magkaisa.”
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Crowned
In his first few days on the job, he has laughed with Anthony Taberna over radio dzMM, toured TV Patrol through his office, pointed out the graduation picture he autographed for his mother, smiled under keno lights in an ABS-CBN studio, sat for an interview on GMA7’s Reporter’s Notebook and across a red-suited Karen Davila and talked about missing the wife who once had no time to take care of him.
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People call me Dick
There are many and varied reasons why Richard Gordon is not number one in the presidential race. It is because the public is made up of fools who idolize candidates by virtue of a free T-shirt. It is because of survey companies that are “stealing the people’s minds” by publishing false ratings to a conditioned public. It is because the media are biased. It is because the public mind is unable to understand he is better than those Aquinos, or that Villlar. It’s because of the oligarchies and monopolies and the sad state of Philippine democracy.
That Gordon is not leading the charge to the Palace cannot possibly be because of Gordon himself. In the wonderful world of the man called Dick, the flowers bloom red, the sky is papered with his posters, and crowds of ballot-clutching jingle-singing voters reach out to touch his hand.
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