I really don’t get it. Other countries are looking forward, aiming for the future and pushing to be tiger economies, havens for tourism and improved business opportunities. As in, "the future has never looked so bright." And what do we aim for? Nostalgia! And a false sense of nostalgia at that!
What are these "good old days" being referred to? Does the presence of a lola make it all come true for you? Or does it smack of insipid manipulation and the shallow use of subliminal images? When exactly were these "good old days"? Erap’s time? Hardly. The glimmer of Ramos, which faded all too fast? The Cory era which did start with a bang and ended up as the reign of brownouts? They certainly can’t be referring to the martial law Marcos years. And if we go all the way back to the ’60s (which includes the term of Gloria’s father), that also was the decade of Lucila Lalu, Maggie de la Riva and the Plaza Miranda bombings.
One extreme and vociferous nationalist suggested that given how ready we are to curry favor from the Americans these days, perhaps the "good old days" being referred to was our Commonwealth era. With nostalgia on our addled brains, we can even propose Clark or Subic as the new capital of our country. OK, Subic comes out on top, as there’s surfing there (another PR coup for "Most Incredibly Lame Photo Ops").
Or maybe it’s a personalized kind of infomercial. From the creators, for the creators. After all, if all the publicity surrounding the corporate acquisitions of the head of the PR company is anything to go by, he, at least, is certainly enjoying these "days." And isn’t it great how the time-honored Filipino ploy for taking the spotlight away from you is the irrevocable resignation? Me, I’d rather believe that if you’re innocent, stick it out and don’t let the so-called "insidious elements of the press" hound you out of office. Besides, what was all the brouhaha for? He resigns but it’s qualified by saying it’s just the official title of PR consultant and the one peso stipend. Loved the way he said his future plans of going around the country, talking to governors wasn’t "campaigning or politicking," just "strengthening the grass roots."
In the meantime, these commercials are our "tormentors"; as one unkind pundit put it, to remind us daily of our torpe mentor. Come on already, just do the job. We truly pray you can, and stop trying to make us think things are rosy. They aren’t, and all these commercials are as pathetic as thinking if we just close our eyes for a while, the problems will disappear. No wonder we’re still so immature politically; living in Wonderland. We’re like ostriches, inserting our heads in the sand and opting for denial.
Just once, I’d like to see a PR release or commercial stating "We’re in the outhouse, sinking in deep excrement, but there’s hope if we all pitch together and these are the steps we have to take…" That would beat trying to convince us that thanks to your taking on the Presidency, miracles have happened and the days of wine and roses are upon us. The wine and rose analogy may have been close, dear, but it’s more like the vine around our necks and thorns in our sides. These may be "boom" times, but certainly not of the economic variety. Maybe the onomatopoeic "boom" of lobbed grenades and bombs.
"Icon" is the new buzzword of lifestyle and fashion pages, reminiscent of "diva" in our music industry (remember how, a couple of years ago, every other singer was some kind of diva?). Of Greek origin, icon’s true meaning lies in its referring to an image (painting or mosaic) or statue of a sacred personage. See how liberally it’s now applied, given as an appellation to almost anyone with a sense of style or sartorial panache. Sad how the word then loses its impact.
In a world without hyped up press releases or "desperately seeking superlatives" fashion writers, the word icon would have been reserved for the likes of Chona Kasten or Elvira Manahan. Nowadays, in this "I Con (You)" world of PR practitioners and lifestyle journalists, it’s used at a drop of a needle for just about any situation or person.
Let’s leave the last word to the breathing, living Liz Taylor who rebuffed the reference of "icon" by saying, "Don’t call me an icon, honey! Icons are old paintings that hang in Russian churches."
As for "reinvent," it once referred to a vital transformation, a substantive change in the nature of one’s person or aura. Now, just change one’s hairstyle, makeup or don a new wardrobe and voila! One is reinvented. As Ann exclaimed, You come close to Sts. Peter or Paul and maybe, just maybe, we’ll concede the "reinvented" tag. Peter was a flubber who eventually did his Master proud, turning from "clay to granite." And Paul, a persecutor of Christians, ended up writing the Epistles. Rightly said–you give me your Damascus experience or prove that one has truly undergone something more than a superficial, temporary "change" and then we can whip out "reinvent."
What seems to gall persons in the know, creating an obnoxious smell that reaches high heavens, is how once again, we’ve been lulled into complacency by the headline-grabbing grand gesture. Commentators defending the sale, talk of how the purchase exemplifies the government’s commitment to culture and will raise the stakes of Philippine artists in the global market.
Meanwhile, a fantastic set of Luna paintings stand in the National Museum, decaying because the restoration work that’s so badly needed can’t be sourced. Restoration costs around P150,000 per painting. I’m wondering how many P150,000 make up P46 million. I hear the National Museum does not even have the funds to pay its telephone bills.
Our President in a printed interview said that the Arts is not a Government concern and should be left to the private sector. But Arts and Culture (along with Sports) have the power to unite our country. The National Museum is government-owned, so perhaps some attention should be directed towards the existing masterpieces and the various culture and heritage programs.
If Luna’s Parisian Life becomes a means by which the years of neglect and ignorance can be slowly made up for, then perhaps it will be worth the price paid. But if the purchase becomes an end in itself, with GSIS beating its breast and mythologizing the paddle that was used during the auction (that is so low, a half-jest that gives a symbol of the commercial transaction equal footing to the art piece)–then, all was in vain. And we’re back in the "little pond" where bragging rights on whose and what painting I now have in my collection takes precedence over the bigger picture of what we’re truly doing to preserve our heritage and the arts.
Wake up Lady, everyone in Hollywood is "researching a role." Every waitress in any Melrose eatery is just waiting for her "break," working to make ends meet before that break, and using the time to "research" on how the working stiffs live and meeting people from all walks of life so she can absorb their tics and mannerisms for some future role.
Or maybe, the idea was to get Winona convicted as it gave her more headlines and media coverage than she ever had in her career. She can even do the time (not much chance of that happening); and once again say it’s research for an upcoming role. She can even get a ghostwriter and come up with a book, or go on tour with Hugh Grant (what was his excuse again when he was caught? He didn’t know she was a prostitute? Hey! Have we checked? Maybe it’s the same lawyer!). And maybe we’re all being duped, helping them revive their flagging careers. Stranger things have happened… like Gary Coleman now being employed as a personal security guard to the stars.