In the midst of all the con ass whipping, we celebrated the 111th Philippine Independence Day. Filipinos brushed aside merry making and went to the streets for yet another big ass rally. The usual suspects were there, Mar Roxas with his shiny tricycles and garlic garlands (someone should really beat the crap out of his PR team), the presidentiables flashing their newly bleached pearly whites, hordes of sweaty activists, effigies of Gloria's indomitable mole (her mole really plays such a prominent role in these rallies, it needs its very own PR team) and those infernal chismosos and chismosas. Filipinos have a strong penchant for drama, it even figures in our almost bi-annual rallies. On one side we have the kontrabida, the thorny pebble in Juan's shoe. The one person we are irrefutably convinced is responsible for all our nation's maladies. In this scenario the kontrabida is not donning a leather jacket, he or rather, she is the prick straddling the country's highest seat. But this was not always the case. Once upon a time the kontrabida was the bida. The knight in immaculate white propped up on a unicorn (unicorns are magical creatures reserved only for the elite few). But alas, the bida entranced by the golden promises of minty swiss bank accounts, happy and sated mistresses, and sprawling vacation villas, takes a bite of the forbidden fruit. Insatiable, the bida nibbles on the sweet succulent flesh, the juices drip to the ground. The plight of the impoverished, the sick and the suffering remain unheard while the bida hums to the tune of glittering power while she stomps among the crispy peso bills lining the carpets of the presidential palace. Under the watchful eye of the very people who have brought her to power, The bida then morphs into the kontrabida. The time is up, her inner thighs are burning hot, her buttocks badly bruised. The people are getting sick of the ride.
On the other side, we have the bida. The Zorro, the Shia Lebouf, the hero of the long suffering masses. He/she is the personification of saving grace. The people pin all their hopes on the bida. It feels very familiar, Like those generic scenes we see on those generic romantic comedies where the girl is gazing up at the dorky loser she once loathed to hell and back. She thinks to herself, He might, he just might be the One (insert Sara Geronimo's A very special love).
Sometimes the bida and the kontrabida switch places. Not too long ago, Gloria was the bida. Filipinos marched to EDSA demanding the resignation of then president Erap Estrada. Gloria was vice president. The little woman was a vision of hope. Educated in Goergetown University where she shared classes with Bill Clinton, she was a breath of fresh air to Erap's highschool drop out. Years later, Erap is convicted of graft and corruption. He is sent to prison where he subsequently receives a pardon. The time is ripe. The people are beginning to lose patience in Gloria. Controversies are abound. Whistleblowers drop bombs on a monthly basis. She and her mole apologize nasally on TV. Erap strengthens his fan base. The masses seem to have forgotten how he stole much needed funds from the nation. The people who support him might be suffering from short term memory loss, like the one Drew had in 5o first dates. He is groomed once again to be the bida. His image is that of the prodigal son. The people welcome him with arms wide open like a dearly missed exiled hero. He drunkenly slurs his devotion to the welfare of the mahihirap and the media laps it up. The presidential elections are drawing near where Erap is slated to run for office once again. Gloria is doing her best to Con ass whip the country. Under the present constitution, she is no longer qualified to run for the highest office as this is her second term as president. Hey, if the system doesn't work for you, then change the system. She pimps out her mole in her hometown, flashing her pearly whites. "Who knows? I might run for congresswoman next year?", she quips. God forbid.
Yes, this only happens in the Philippines.
Next year I will be voting for the very first time. I am making a mental note to wear a wristband and a fake mole in case I will be infected with the prevalent short term memory loss.
Post Script: I like the google doodle made for the celebration of our country's independence day. Read all about it's conception here.
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