Jubilation in the GMA camp. "Come join us," an immediate feeler is sent out to the disgruntled Reyes. But wait. By 5 p.m., Rod is backpedaling somewhat (I didn’t say back-pidal). He won’t confirm or deny. An hour later, word gets out that Rod isn’t resigning – for the moment. FPJ called him up. Are they negotiating? Negotiating what? That Rod be finally "consulted" and listened to? Oh, well. Who knows what’s going on anywhere these days? There are currents, cross-currents, counter-currents, and nakoryente.
Rod’s dilemma reminds me of The Beatles song: I say goodbye, you say hello. (Did I get that right or is it the other way around?)
The awful truth seems to be that the question bedevilling the FPJ parade is, "Who’s in charge here?" Or, worse: "Is anybody in charge?"
Rod and his team keep on getting bypassed or ignored, it appears. He makes a statement then gets contradicted by Ronnie Poe’s very articulate spokesman, Sorsogon Rep. Francis Joseph Escudero (1st dist.), who’s the son of former Secretary and Congressman Salvador "Sonny" Escudero, a candidate for Senator on the Koalisyon ng Nagkakaisang Pilipino ticket.
Methinks one of FPJ’s chief problems is that he seldom speaks for himself, sending Sonny to speak for him at the UP, Francis to speak for him on television and radio, Tito Sotto to answer media questions, or Loren grabs the microphone to speak for him while Panday patiently listens flashing his multi-megawatt smile, but remaining Da King without a pronouncement.
Via Sonny Escudero, who he dispatched to the Project Development Institute forum at the University of the Philippines to be his spokesperson, FPJ sent the message to the youth: Go back to farming. Doesn’t he know that young people, infected by our cellphone, digital, cyberspace, television, CD/DVD culture, want to get away from the old farm and explore the bright lights of the city (a phrase already so ancient it has become a bromide)?
He should promise them to make farm life more exciting and satisfying, then they’ll stay put. But they won’t if he keeps on bringing along with him Hot Babes to tempt them.
He’s popular, adored by millions, a man of purpose, patriotism, and a gentleman. However, this is not enough to get him elected President. Distasteful as it may sound to somebody who fancies himself leading an idealistic crusade, it’s organization that gets him to where he’s going, and lack of organization that leaves him stranded at the takilyera.
FPJ’s problem is that he must find a way to get himself down from celluloid heroism to real victory at the hustings. He’s got to get in there and shake hands, press the flesh, feel the pulse of the . . . ugh . . . politicians. He can’t snub mayors, governors, councilors, etc., and appeal directly to the people. Sure, he must go to the people, but have respect as well for the nitty gritty. Getting the people to the polling precincts to vote is an act of organization. God didn’t give them wings like the angels, nor gasoline.
And what about the adoring crowds who cluster around their hero today? Are all of them registered to vote? TRAPOS and rogues pay attention to the details: that’s why we get so many deadbeats and no-goods in Congress. And the valiant and super-idealistic find themselves by the wayside, licking their wounds – and wondering what happened.
A word to the wise, FPJ. A change in technique and approach may be desperately needed.
Before it’s too late.
Of course, she blatantly uses government funds and taxpayers’ money. Her excuse is that she’s governing, as she was originally elected to do. The argument that she’s merely performing her duties as Chief Executive is, it can be said, specious. But what the heck, how can she be denied official vehicles, taxes-paid gas, all the trappings and paraphernalia of government? After all, she’s President.
She’s got her face on those free "health cards" subsidized by the government, on the P200 bill, in all those TV ads featuring government services, so there. She continued campaigning even after she had declared on December 30, 2002, that she was not going for re-election. (I believed her when she said she would not run, which gives you an idea of how gullible this pretender-to-punditry can be.) But, again, what the heck. As the Soviet Union’s late shoe-banger Nikita Khrushchev once so pithily said: "Politicians are the same all over. They promise to build a bridge even if there is no river."
As it is, La Glo is traipsing from province to province in a never-ending whirlwind campaign. She zips from town to town, to city, to barrio and farm. She waltzes with waltzing Imelda in Leyte, then gets the obeisance of Kokoy R. (attired in a white suit despite the sweltering weather). Does she still do the ocho-ocho? Or does she now depend on the segurado?
She touches base with all the factions. In the same manner she swept through Mindanao, getting raves and roaring crowds, in Rod Duterte’s fiefdom of Davao.
In like manner, she drove relentlessly through the night in Pangasinan (supposed to be a Poe bailiwick, since FPJ’s family hails from San Carlos). GMA’s mother, the late Evangelina Macaraeg, though, hails from Binalonan. In Burgos town, she found only the police station alight, so her caravan headed for the police station. She asked the startled cops: "What do you need?"
The officer-in-charge stammered: "Ma’am, we need a police car." GMA nodded and told them they’d get it. Back in the car she picks up one of her indispensable cellphones (she has oodles of them which she denies she throws at recalcitrants). She speaks tersely to somebody in Manila: "Do we have a police patrol car we can give to Burgos?"
"Yes, Ma’am," comes the reply.
Within a day, the prowl car is delivered. (Where did it come from? Even from what police precinct it was hi-jacked doesn’t matter: A promise is a promise.)
In another place, a fiesta in progress is spotted.
"Can I gate-crash your fiesta?" Or words to that effect. The fiesta organizers are naturally delighted to have the President barge into their affair. (The "mistake" of intruding into the Nazareno procession in Quiapo is not to be repeated.)
Does she come, like the Greeks, bearing gifts? Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.
It strikes me that GMA is following her late father’s pattern. The late President Diosdado Macapagal believed in "election by locomotion". From the time he was congressman, then Vice President, finally making his run for the Presidency against Carlos P. Garcia, Cong Dadong went about tirelessly shaking everybody’s hand. In one instance, he went around – and found himself, to his surprise when he looked up, shaking his wife Eva’s hand. Dadong’s philosophy was: "The hand you shake today will write your name on the ballot tomorrow."
Dadong, however, muffed his own Equity of the Incumbent. The cheeky challenger, ex-Senate President Ferdinand E. Marcos, stole a march on him. Macoy got votes even from those who couldn’t write, or were too dead to write. DM was dumbfounded when the final tally came in. Like a gentleman he conceded – some say, too early.
What worries many is that GMA is determined this will not happen to her. To what extent will she go to prevent it? That is the question.