Skip to main content

Satan's clause

TWO of every three Filipinos say they will vote “No” in a plebiscite on a new Constitution that the current top tenant in Malacañang wants, according to the November 2006 Social Weather Stations survey.

The telling clause to that sentence? A new Charter that the current top tenant in Malacañang wants.

We can also substitute another clause. Say, a new set of errand dogs that the current top dog in Malacañang wants elected.

Plunk down another clause. What about new Garci that the current top resident in Malacañang wants for more satisfying mid-term election results?

Surveys like that one plied by SWS come in handy questionnaires. Respondents’ replies to questionnaires don’t necessarily reflect genuine sentiments.

Sentiments can be swayed, say, at gun point or before an overwhelming presence of hired riff-raff bristling with menace and mayhem plus firepower.

People’s sentiments and perceptions can also be coaxed for suitable ends with some legal tenderness.

Sumptuous sums could be trickled down to the nation’s 42,000 barangays to win converts and perverts. People’s talk is cheap and should be fixed. Money talks.

Wrenched off the pockets of the nation’s army of taxpayers for the 2007 spending binge is a P127-billion war chest for Malacañang. Let the taxpayers weep at that.

The monies can convince voters to switch their loyalties. They’ll likely do that without a twinge of regret.

Monies can also persuade oppositionists to switch their allegiance, even drop out of the poll race.

If that doesn’t work, more monies can ensure another Garci clone or a similar set of operatives to knead poll returns.

Lap dogs, attack dogs, and errand dogs for Malacañang should garner most of the seats in both chambers of Congress. A canine majority must be kept intact so as to quash any try at toppling the top tenant in Malacañang.

That ought to be the scheme of things unreeling before our eyes in 2007.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Every single cell of my body's happy

I got this one from Carmelite Sisters from whose school three of my kids were graduated from. They have this snatch of a song that packs a fusion metal and liebeslaud beat and whose lyrics go like this: "Every single cell of my body is happy. Every single cell of my body is well. I thank you, Lord. I feel so good. Every single cell of my body is well." Biology-sharp nerds would readily agree with me in this digression... Over their lifetimes, cells are assaulted by a host of biological insults and injuries. The cells go through such ordeals as infection, trauma, extremes of temperature, exposure to toxins in the environment, and damage from metabolic processes-- this last item is often self-inflicted and includes a merry motley medley of smoking a deck a day of Philip Morris menthols, drinking currant-flavored vodka or suds, overindulgence in red meat or the choicest fat-marbled cuts of poultry and such carcass. When the damage gets to a certain point, cells self-de

ALAMAT NG TAHONG

SAKBIBI ng agam-agam sa kalagayan ng butihing kabiyak-- at kabiyakan, opo-- na nakaratay sa karamdaman, ang pumalaot na mangingisda ay napagawi sa paanan ng dambuhalang Waczim-- isang bathala na nagkakaloob sa sinuman anumang ibulwak ng bibig mula sa bukal ng dibdib. Pangangailangan sa salapi na pambili ng gamot ng kapilas-pusong maysakit ang nakasaklot sa puso ng matandang mangingisda. 'Di kaginsa-ginsa'y bumundol ang kanyang bangka sa paanan ng Waczim. Kagy at umigkas ang katagang kimkim noon sa kanyang dibdib: "Salapi!" Bumuhos ng salapi-- mga butil at gilit ng ginto-- mula papawirin. At halos umapaw sa ginto ang bangka ng nagulantang na mangingisda, walang pagsidlan ang galak, at walang humpay ang pasasalamat sa mga bathala. Nanumbalik ang kalusugan ng kabiyak ng mangingisda. At lumago ang kabuhayan, naging mariwasa ang magkapilas-puso na dating maralita. Nilasing ng kanyang mga dating kalapit-bahay ang mangingisda-- na hindi ikina

Cal y canto con camote

FENG shui (literally, wind water flow) lore has it root crops embody a hidden store of treasures. Say, a local food conglomerate needs yearly 35,000 metric tons of cassava for livestock feed-- the available local supply falls short of 13,000 tons. Cassava granules sell for around P9 a kilo. Demand for the same root crop to be used in liquor manufacturing is hitting above the roof. Why, raising cassava is a no-brainer task— this is one tough crop that can grow in the most hostile patches of earth, providing sustenance for ages to dwellers in sub-Saharan parts of Africa. While the hardy cassava is nearly pure starch, the lowly sweet potato or kamote is considered by nutritionists as a super food, the most nutritious of all vegetables— kamote levels of Vitamin A are “off the charts, rich in antioxidants and anti-inflammatory properties.” A fist-sized kamote can supply a day’s dose of glucose to fuel the brain, muscles, and organs, so they claim. Count the country lucky