Whenever I am confronted by an aggressive, blank, white page, whether a piece of paper or computer screen, and I have no idea what to write, I writhe and curl back to my seat because I feel impotent. I become limp, my will turning into a flaccid mass of deboned ego, piling on top of its wringkled skin similar to the appearance of piled up unwashed clothes in one of the corners of my room this time.
After having posted this for more than half an hour without any accompanying text, after seeing the menacing look in the caricature of Mrs. Arroyo, I think that I cannot do it. I was only carried away by my emotions and my unthinking self. Poisoning her is scheming, immoral, cowardly, and evil. And beside, I may pursue the plan, but the balding, Barong-strutting presidential guards surrounding her will definitely thwart any of my attempts to go near her. Poisoning her is next to impossible, if not stupid. I lack the chutzpah.
But who knows, somebody who’s loud, moral, good, and brave will devise a more intelligent plan to put an end to this malevolent scab potrayed by the cartoonist of the work above.