The revolution will not be anesthetized!
Apparently, activists are drug addicts. Before converging as a singular mass of caroling anarchists, they snort coke and get high on rugby-laden tissue paper. In fact, their banners, effigies, furious chanting, and unyielding principles are simply the products of highly intoxicated minds. Sane people wouldn’t try to go against the system, especially if it was armed with Ninja-Turtle shields and Gandalf-esque sticks… oh wait, those were the policemen.
For those of you who haven’t heard the hilariously skewed news about Gloria Arroyo’s UP visit being thwarted by plastered junkies, well, allow me to inform. Arroyo was supposed to grace UP Diliman grounds last Dec. 2 for the inauguration of the P100 million George Ty-Toyota Asian Cultural Center — the most generous private donation UP has received for its centennial year by far. She failed to show up, of course, thanks to the bloodthirsty band of students and professors eagerly awaiting her arrival. Spurred by the influence of questionable substances and the need for national attention, these protesters had forcefully launched themselves upon the police… only to be overpowered by the searing righteousness of these helmeted crusaders. And thus, once again, good had triumphed over (for lack of a better word) evil.
It’s amazing how accurately mainstream media informs these days. It’s even more amazing how people actually manage to buy this drivel. No wonder most parents can never feel at ease with a son or daughter studying in UP. The school is a haven of mentally superior, albeit frightfully unstable fanatics.
Oy vey.
I felt like I was watching some corrupt comedy instead of an actual news report, with the reporters sensationalizing the issues that mattered least. As a participant of this surprisingly fulfilling event, it was pretty disheartening to see how the activists were portrayed (not explicitly, but still) as inebriated reactionaries instead of as a peaceful assembly expressing legitimate outrage over an illegitimate regime. I mean, what were they going to assault these armed policemen with anyway? The crumpled remains of protest banners? Sharp isaw sticks and sizzling-hot monay? Please. The violent dispersal of students and faculty was unwarranted, inexcusable, and fascist. Of course, I do realize that these truncheon-happy policemen simply felt that they were “doing their jobs” (whatever that’s supposed to mean). However, they had absolutely no right to violate their code of maximum tolerance against unarmed civilians, and if it wasn’t for the consent of our own UP officials, these cops shouldn’t have even been on campus in the first place. Who knew democracy could be such a bitch?
On a more delightful note, however, Arroyo only ever set foot inside the UP Diliman grounds once, and at least that’s something to feel euphoric about. And you thought protest actions were a fruitless waste of time.
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Fact of life: Everyone’s a critic. Now the big question is, what do you do about it?
So you’re sick of your president. You’ve detested her since the “Hello Garci” incident and you continue to detest her dubious use of taxpayers’ money… and everything in between that and after. Right now, you condemn her for the perversity that was the Ampatuan Massacre (why say “Maguindanao Massacre?” Ampatuan was the man responsible for the carnage, use his name. It’s only fitting), and you are dumbfounded by her shameless bidding for a congressional seat in the second district of Pampanga. You shake your remote control at the TV in rage, store the news in your head until further notice; retrieving it later to impress your peers with insightful and politically-relevant viewpoints. You congratulate yourself for this elevated state of interest, and your head is abuzz with ideas about what can be done. But reading and watching and listening about the world of political reality tires you out, and after going over the last news broadcast of the day, it really is time to watch Battlestar Galactica (only the greatest series on the planet, I might add). But hey, at least you know your social consciousness is now squeaky clean. Sociologists call this the narcotizing dysfunction. What it all boils down to is this: there is a colossal chasm that separates knowing from actually doing something about it. And I’m not trying to patronize anyone, really. We’ve all been narcotized in one way or another — the difference is how soon you realize that you’re being punked.
