The First Son is his own man
Background: FS has been through the baptism by fire many, many times. One could factually declare that he’s no virgin to politics, no virgin to scandals, no virgin to shady deals, no virgin, period. But in what can only be described as an extreme media slaughter or snuff interview, FS, in his usual cavalier fashion, agreed to be interviewed in a morning show to explain the glaring discrepancies in his SALN (Salary, Assets, and Liabilities Net worth). In particular, a US beachfront property worth P63.7 million in Foster City, California, was not declared in his SALN. In general, the income reported increased by quantum leaps from P5 million in 2002 to a mind-boggling P76.9 million in 2005, then a staggering P99.3 million in 2006. It is a feat so astounding in the face of a Congressman’s monthly salary of P35,000 per month against the global meltdown. A new record has been set for the ravenous appetite and ludicrous brazenness of his clan. FS has equaled, if not surpassed, his father’s own unsavory reputation. Indeed, he has become his own man!
Completely unraveling under 15 minutes of unrelenting spitfire questions from his Tita Winnie Monsod, he squirmed, stuttered and stumbled, alternating between defiance and surrender. He dared anyone to sue him, while never losing his obsequious and conciliatory “po”s and “Tita”s. It was a Tarantino massacre, with his innards and what little brain matter there was spilled on the studio floor. Despite the Herculean effort of “Igan” Arnold Clavio to stop the FS from uttering any more dimwitted and obtuse avowals, he refused to be saved. Being his own man, confounded but still haughty, the FS plugged on, committing a do-it-yourself lobotomy, to the disbelief of the millions of viewers who watched it in real time, and the many more who were glued to YouTube. It was a nauseating, cannot-be-deleted, literally grilled-to-death scenario.
In the gut-wrenching aftermath, the venomous blogs, virulent comments and vituperative expletives that exploded online about the debacle are too libelous to print. FS has decided to call for a press conference to salvage his reputation, if not his hide. This time, he will come more prepared, be more razor-sharp and astute. In fact, he has rehearsed and visualized his rebuttal, hopefully his epiphany, over and over in his mind.
The following is his imagined version of how he will stage his flawless interaction with media. He asked one of his pretty young things to take down dictation and spell-check the memo afterwards:
“The first item on my to-do list is to pick my supporting team: men who will support me during the press con. They must not upstage me or appear to be sharper than me. That’s easy cuz there are many who fit those requirements in the Palace. I have plenty to choose from. By the time I finish, the media will think I’m like my idol, Epstein — I mean, Einstein!
“So I’ll have my mom’s veteran crisis makers — este, managers — sit at the head table on my left and right, like the two thieves in the crucifixion. On my right, the OIC who handled the National Artist fiasco very smoothly, and on my left, the man who deflated all suspicions that my mother’s enhanced mammaries leaked silicone, not milk. Perfect, I’ll be the cutest of the three.
“Next, I have to invite only the friendly media members. I must get the list of reporters that we have taken care of all these years from the secret stash of Finance. Note: Tita Winnie should not be allowed to set foot within 10 kilometers of the premises. Also, anyone who has been sued by my father for libel should be excluded. OMG, there won’t be that many left. The loyalists will sit in the front rows while the AC-DC types can sit behind them.
“Make sure we sweeten the pie. I will distribute designer ‘LeCrooxs’ key chains with fighting cocks and racing horses — not pigs or crocodiles — as my personalized memorabilia. They will see my thoughtfulness and generosity through these ‘Made in China’ souvenirs. Make sure these are .925 pure silver, meaning not exceeding P9.25 apiece. Put inside red ampao envelopes and print, ‘Because Christmas can be moved around any day in the calendar if my Mom says so ... Peace and Prosperity, FS.’ Check.
“Do you think we could borrow the Seksluts dancing gyrators from Pareng Willie? Oh, but you’re right, there are too many AC-DCs in the crowd who will not enjoy the performance. Sayang lang. Okay, scratch that idea.
“Food? What? Golden Osetra caviar and torchon de foie gras? Are you crazy? Where do you think we will hold the press con, in Le Cirque? Hija, we both know you didn’t get hired for your IQ, but every now and then use your head naman! Don’t just give it. Crispy pata, sisig, panga ng tuna and pulutan pa siguro. Bring lots of beer. It won’t matter what I have to say when everyone is happy-happy.
“What else? Did I forget anything else? Oh, right, the statement that I will have to read, followed by the Q&A. Okay, call Tito Carlo to help me write it, Tita Cecile to rehearse my lines, and Tito-Tita Pitoy for my wardrobe. Then tell my left and right hacks to write down the questions I will allow to be asked with the right answers. Tell them to distribute one day before. Got that? We’re all set. Now type that out and sit in your own chair. I have to collect my wits and write a statement to defend me and my family.”
(Later, after consultations with his multi-awarded Titos and Titas, he finishes his statement and reads aloud):
“My dear honorable members of the press. Ay, that’s for the House pala. Let’s just say:
“Dear members of the press, because I was very forthright and transparent in an interview about my well-managed personal portfolio, I was misunderstood, misinterpreted and misconstrued by the Filipino people. As a result, I was demonized, vilified and pilloried. In other words, my credibility is chop-chop and my reputation is a horror movie. My entire clan was cursed, from my ancestors to the fruits of my loins, legitimate or not! I cry now for all the loathing and opium — excuse me, odium — that we have received on my Facebook, Twitter and blog, even hacking my personal account in www.girlsgalore.com.
“I will explain again, in all honesty and sincerity, how I have become so rich in just nine short years. I am willing to put my hand on the Bible and swear on the grave of my grandfather that it was hard work, gifts, wise investments, leftover campaign contributions, and winning bets at horse racing and cockfighting that allowed my income to grow 15.6 times as a humble public servant. My beachfront property was acquired through profitable buy and sell of lesser and cheaper properties until this one in Foster City, which I really don’t own. A corporation called Beach Way Park is the registered owner, and the august body of congressmen has all agreed that this should not be divulged in the SALN since it is legally covered by a dummy corporation. I refused to name the other dummies — rather, investors — because I am loyal to my friends and family, especially the one named Angela.
“It is the Filipino crab mentality that gets in the way of a prosperous nation. We have a reckless and irresponsible media, which exposes secrets that are better off hidden. Ahem, you are the exception, of course. And we have a rancorous opposition who are always politicking against my mother, cooking up destabilization plots, derailing Cha-cha and not believing anything that my mother, father, brother, sister and I say. So, if you don’t want to listen and swallow my BS, I only have three words for you:
“Go ahead, sue me!”
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Would you like to be invited to this press con? Contact the author at ms.comfeedback@gamil.com.
