Getting inside her head
Should I stay or should I go? Everyone seems compelled to give me an unsolicited opinion. Despite all these years, people need to learn that no one tells me what to do. Tabako will probably never be trained to keep his opinions to himself. That cantankerous has-been! I should tell him my story when I was four years old and my baby brother was born. Suddenly everyone was paying more attention to him than to me — so I decided to leave. My granny was only too happy to have me. I stayed with my lola for eight years before I went back to my mother and father. I was spoiled rotten by Grandma. But that episode showed everybody early on that they couldn’t ignore me. I am the superstar complete with the trademark mole.
I’m only 63; I could live for another 20 years or so, if my liver holds up that long. What will I do with myself? Daily aerobics classes? How boring is that? Besides, I hate anyone over 4’8” and under 145 pounds! That’s all of them in that class. It’s such a chore to pretend that I can stand any one of them. And them pretending to be so concerned about me, when all they really want are positions for themselves or their husbands or lovers. Plastic!
I’d rather play tonggits every day! What? Inside the women’s detention cell with new amigas in orange uniforms? Ugh, I hate that color. So Partido Ng Masa. I’m sure I can be the selda queen. Pero maraming mas mataray doon. Even with my sharp tongue and looks that could kill, it won’t work. Over there they don’t delegate summary executions. They do it themselves. Note: I better stay out of jail.
It’s 2 a.m. No one is here to amuse me. Not one sycophant to flatter me till I finally fall asleep from exhaustion. No one is picking up my calls. I’m not even out yet and they’re ignoring me already. I hate this job. And it hates me back. Why don’t people love me? And everyone else around me or even remotely associated with me? Even after I doled out P150 million each to those senatorial wannabes, they didn’t want me raising their hand. They called me the kiss of death. Well, most of them lost, anyway. Except those that we helped with some magic. That means they didn’t lose because of me.
What else do these people want from me? I gave them more roads than anyone else before me. So I had nine years to build roads, so what? Sure, my father’s highway cost way too much, but who cares? It’s done and motorists are happy. What more do they want? Why don’t they love me? I gave them health insurance, RoRo, fertilizer, SCTex, brought in millions of investments, steady GNP and GDP growth year after year ... oh, wait, that’s the script of my latest TV ad. Let’s see, only 76.238 percent of the budget of all those infrastructures went to the FG account. It’s not who you think. FG means for the Family’s Good. The 23.762 percent left went to the project itself. So whatever is with FG, I earned. I’m the most hardworking leader this country ever had! So I should go on R&R and spend some of the FG. But with whom? The better-known FG?
Gee, I’m only on my fourth shot and I’m getting giddy. (Sings Girls Just Wanna Have Fun) I’m having fun, am I not? Even if I’m drinking alone in the dark now. So why should I give up all these? The point is, no one should dictate when I should leave. And no one should leave unless I tell them to. The more these people tell me to go, the more I’ll dig in and stay put.
That’s exactly what happened with the Hyatt 10. They left against my wishes. So now they’re all gone, but I’m still here. Ha ha ha! They thought they could force me down and send me packing. Hah, I showed them! But sometimes, in moments like now, when there are no clowns to entertain me, and all I have left is a shot of Scotch, I will admit — I do miss them. Some more than others. Especially Sunflower. She was my favorite because among other things, we were the same height. I miss their genuine concern for me, how hard they worked, and the jokes that made me laugh. The singing, how I loved the singing. (Sings If We Hold On Together) Hu-hu-hu! Now I only have these military guys around me, most of whom I don’t understand. Ang titigas ng dila. Once upon a time, I had real friends around me. Now … I wonder if it’s worth clinging to.
Oh, snap out of it! You can’t be a sappy, sniveling fool! Pa-emo, di naman bagay! I’m made of tougher stuff, am I not? As I told Sunflower, I’m really a hawk at heart; that is, if I had a heart. Mwahaha! They were a sanctimonious lot! The so-called civil society. So high and mighty, as if they had never committed a sin. They’re holier than the cardinal! I prefer the bishops and cardinals to these idealists and moralists. At least the church is grateful for every million Pagcor donates. It has stopped many a critical pastoral letter from circulating. I miss them, but I hate them. And just to spite them, I think I’ll stay.
What? Opposition is counting on getting their act together? That’s about as possible as my height reaching five feet tall! All of them are salivating to be the next occupant here. One is even dreaming of a comeback! Over Dacer’s dead body! They’re falling one by one like flies. Isang Mancao ka lang! The rest are all wheeling and dealing and negotiating my future. As if they have any say in it! Should I stay or should I go? Only I, not time, will tell.
Time. Three hundred sixteen days to go. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Who will I choose as my successor? They’re fighting among themselves so much. Who will be the last man standing? Moi, I’m just going along, smiling my usual smirk. I still have 316 days to wreak havoc, go after the people that caused me pain and put all the wrong people in the places where they can do most harm. The military, Supreme Court, civil service, ambassadorships, ha ha ha! Who’s the lame duck now? No one can stop me!
My list of “People I Wish Would Disappear” is longer than me. That probinsyanong intsik who ruined a perfect commission scheme is at the very top. Followed by assorted media, military, business and ex-G-men included. All those who tried to oust me, asked for my resignation, criticized my appointees, and called me mataray — they should feel my wrath before I go ... if I go. Wait, I’m wasting time introspecting here. So much to do, so little time ... unless my House pets can extend my term. But they will have to be fed again. That means dipping in the FG for that greedy lot.
It’s true. As that old man in the senate said, “Everyone has a price. Everyone can be bought.” And he is living proof. He should have retired years ago. He seems well-preserved, pero amoy-lupa, hihihi! And the old devil’s back at Bigote’s camp. Good riddance. They deserve each other. One on Botox; the other on formaldehyde. Hihihi! They can’t outfox me. I have all the military intelligence to make sure I have the upper hand. Of course they cost an arm and a leg to sustain. Gads, FG might run out even before I decide to go.
It’s 4 a.m. I need one more shot! Oh, no, not a drop left. And I’m still wide-awake. I haven’t slept in eight years! I need to rest. Mass is in two hours, then aerobics, then the grind begins again. It’s the curse of Groundhog Day. Hogs, swine flu, pork barrel! I might as well be living in a pigsty! Oh, someone actually had the gall to suggest I should spend the rest of my days thinking of my legacy. Legacy? That went kaput, di ba?
Oh, to sleep, perchance to dream. Aye, there’s the rub. Should I stay or should I go?
(Author’s note: The following satirical soliloquy is not based on total fiction. Any similarity with real characters is purely intentional.)
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The author can be reached at e-mail address: ms.comfeedback@gmail.com.
