Filipinos do not realize that they are masters of ironies. We have a movie star for a president; a Sin for a Cardinal; a massacre film churner for a National Artist; and a former teeny bopper with a recently leaked silicon boobs for a President. These are the stuff of magical realism one can only find in either Gabriel Garcia-Marquez or Salman Rushdie’s novels, but in the Philippines these far-fetched, out-of-this-world ideas become flesh and blood, personified that they cease to exist in fantasies and become real-life dramas that make the life of an ordinary Filipino picturesque despite hunger and poverty.
We always find humor in almost anything. Even death does not escape our cheap paperback joke books.
August was an interesting month. There were a lot of work holidays that meant either receiving double pay or a certain percentage of increase for that day. You count the lessened traffic congestion and the breathable space inside the trains as benefits, nothing can be perfect. There was Cory Aquino’s death, then a commemoration (or was it celebration?) of Ninoy Aquino’s assassination. Monday of previous week the executive minister of Iglesia ni Cristo, Eraño “Ka Erdy” Manalo, met his Creator (as they profess to be the only group of people who will be saved from the imminent lake of fire for non-believers, and unless you become one of them, you’re as good as a grilled ghost for eternity). According to hearsay and workplace gossip, Monday is going to be a special non-working holiday. Once it rains it pours, says an old salt advertisement.
And a deadly wish ensnarled my Dionysian id. If all politicians die then I can have as many double pays and 30 per cent added to my measly daily salary.
I’m keeping my fingers crossed and burning anything made of wood to keep anyone from knocking on wood.