In an ideal world

In an ideal world, even China will learn to behave.

Its future leaders will shed all traces of that unico-hijo, superstar, spoiled-brat syndrome and rectify the error of current ways. They will resolve instead that for the fabled Middle Kingdom with a glorious history of sages and wisdom to claim true bragging rights for the century, China must temper its rise to economic power with humility and generosity. 

Strutting with arrogance and elbowing every neighbor that eschews kowtowing only raises questions about its civility. Bumbling and bungling like a bull in the delicate china shop of Asia only earns it the brutish bully tag.

Already, that nine-dash map of manufactured sovereignty over an entire sea  — parts of which also wash ashore on other countries — has alienated everyone, even the ghosts of Confucius and Li Po. Already, the high-handed treatment of relatively more democratic Hong Kong has further exposed its leaders’ failure to recognize the PC and entitlement flavors of the times.

In an ideal world, Russia’s leaders will finally accept the fact that their proud dream of being a political, military and economic power has long faded, not just because the USSR broke up, but that totalitarian states have long been out of step with planetary evolution. And that it’s best for them to march abreast with Europe, its neighbors, and the rest of the world, while also conceding that as long as America continues to produce its movies and its music, its Steve Jobses and Bill Gateses, there can be no serious threat to its cultural and technological influence. 

Well, of course everyone else can always pretend, like the French, that theirs is a viable alternative. Or, like the Germans, simply focus on efficiency and the generation of solar power. Better yet, like both, everyone else can simply produce good wines and beers and football teams.

In an ideal world, the USA can say “May the spirit of the Fourth of July be with you!” and really mean it, without the usual double-talk engendered by neo-con transformers and sub-planets with sub-species like Republican apes. And there oughta be an end to Linday Lohan types. (Well, maybe, just maybe, except for the nip-slips.)    

In an ideal world, Islamic fundamentalism may be the last to go among the barriers to peace love flowers happiness. But maybe, just maybe, when it does, a religion can still stand on its own without fuel from any blood of any martyrs or victims. And that typo about what to expect in paradise will finally be clarified, that it really reads as “64-year-old virgins.”

Then the entire Middle East will be the new Woodstock Nation, where women can drive vehicles or to the green and the basketball goal in shorts and muscle tees.

In an ideal world, why, Israel and Palestine will co-host the 2054 World Cup, where the Azkals will represent Asia together with South Korea, which had long taken over provision of Internet service from Aparri to Jolo — at a minimum of 64 Mbps.

In an ideal word, North Korea will host a version of Disneyland, so that its take on fun and humor will veer away from the surreal. And oh yes, stand-up comics will indulge in battle rap as tag teams of Paks and Kims.

In an ideal world, women will not only gain equality but precedence, priority and primordiality in everything, except maybe, just maybe, chess and cuisine. But they will rule across the board, from safeguarding national coffers to disbursing the same, collecting taxes from official keepers of the faith, meting out justice with mothers’ tears, and settling issues with other countries over omelets and meringue pies (that have been cooked and baked, respectively, by men chefs, eow).  

In an ideal world, all religious leaders will congregate on Oct. 9 each year at Strawberry Fields in NYC’s Central Park, and offer flowers around a marker on the ground that reads IMAGINE. They may pray, chant, meditate, assume asanas, beat on drums while clad in saffron robes, or bow with their butts pointing towards one direction, but will not sing that boy band’s tunes. 

In an ideal world, Facebook admin dudes would already have transferred notification pop-up messages from the left to the right side of our respective walls, so they don’t cover the space where we’re trying to write a new comment.

In an ideal world, Philippine license plates will be awarded a buyer of any new vehicle a day after the check clears in the dealer’s account. And Holland, with the magnanimity of a winner in the World Cup of 2014, or 2018, or 2022, will generously install and maintain an efficacious water-pumping system that will forever banish flooding in Metro Manila.

Wait, there’s more. And our new podner Japan will build and maintain a subway system all the way from Batanes to Tawi-Tawi, with stops in Pagudpod, Coron, Boracay, Bantayan, and wherever else in our bless(ed) isles. 

In an ideal world, global warming will be harnessed as an energy source, dengue and the ebola virus will both be a thing of the past, and cancer and kidney failure and heart attacks and strokes will also be but a memory, thanks to a juice combo of coco water, ampalaya and malunggay.  

In an ideal world, Benguet pines will replace all structures set up by informal settlers in Baguio, and even legal property owners would be mandated to care for at least one tree of the same species (plus some succulents) for every 200 square meters.  

In an ideal world, NBA superstars will be obligated to stay with a team, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, for no less than 10 years, thence five and so forth till retirement, and their off-season fishing activities thence back-to-the-gym programs be covered live for the benefit of groupie addicts.

In an ideal world, ranters, haters, trolls, cyber and physical bullies will be reprogrammed as gentler, kinder, and ticket-less traffic enforcers.

In an ideal world, National Artists chosen by the NCCA-NCAA-UAAP-CCP-NPA-CPP-PBA conglomerate will be accepted without question, declared as such to much merriment and festivity, and go on with their creative and procreative lives, except when one of them proposes that no other National Artist should be declared for the particular genre that she or he represents until her or his demise, in which case off to the funny farm with that proponent.

In an ideal world, all nations will be run like corporations, starting with ours, so that Consitutions will be replaced with vision-mission statements, even if these come with just as much blah. And only the janitors will attempt to interpret them, whether they’re of good or bad faith. 

In an ideal world, we’ll all love one another, tsupMwah!