it's payback time, apparently

They have not spent one minute on their elective posts and yet, they have started to prepare for the next elections.

The Kabayan take-over of Dinky Soliman's post, term-sharing in the Senate, cha-cha preparations--it's sickening. If this is the way the President intends to fulfill her 10-point plan, then we can dismiss it as merely that--a plan.

We're getting more of the same. And we're getting worse. Did anybody ever take up Sen. Pia Cayetano's call for the government to show us the real score of our finances? Methinks not.

I guess it's about time we seriously give a thought to our own plans of moving to Canada. This early, we can see that it was unwise for us to shelve the submission of all the required documents necessary for our migration.

While the idea of moving to an unknown land has always scared me, and the prospect of starting anew may not be advisable especially if you're only one year away from turning 40, it may be your only option, given how things are going in this part of the globe.

Hayyy talaga.

a goddess called maria sharapova

My hubby and I often talk about gods and demi-gods and why some people seem to have it all. We call them "anak ng Diyos." To name a few: Mel Gibson, husband and wife Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston, Julia Roberts. In order not to sound sour-graping, we just console ourselves by speculating on their skeletons-in-the-closet. Probably, we say, Mel Gibson has "alipunga"; or Julia Roberts has eczema in unseen parts of her body. That's why I laughed so hard until my stomach hurt when I read on the net that Brad Pitt topped the list of "smelliest celebrities." Knowing my aversion to anything that will cause people to get into the "it's you they're talking about" mode, I actually thanked God that I was not Jennifer Aniston.

Now comes Maria Sharapova.

It's a good thing I only came to know about her after her Wimbledon victory. (I don't know what you make of it, but I have learned to maintain my sanity by avoiding the news). Otherwise, I would have gone into another "sighing state" asking why God could be so generous to her--six foot tall, with long leggedness (origin of the word: Melanie Marquez) and a tennis grand slam at age 17. (Is she really only 130 lbs?)

Hmmm... I think she has...

Here we go again!

thanks God

I simply refused to write anything about the May 10 elections. I believe that almost anyone who had an opinion--and we Filipinos have an abundance of that--has already said his piece about this event. 'Nuf sed.

I can't believe it. We're still alive. As one jeepney sign would say, "Thanks God!" Inspite of Didagen Dilangalen.

I hope I spelled his name right. But then, who would really care if i didn't.

November 30, 2003 tragedy

Tragedy brings out the best and the worst in human beings. In the case of Miriam Defensor-Santiago, it brought out her humanity. This is my conclusion after watching the segment made on the suicide of her bunso by Jessica Soho on the weekly show “Jessica Soho Reports.” With that singular report, Ms. Santiago was able to erase, at least to me, all the bad impressions and characterizations—founded or unfounded—that have been attributed to her through these years: BRENDA, eccentric (this she admitted herself), me tililing, etc. The tragedy that was her son’s suicide proved once and for all that Ms. Santiago was foremost, not a politician, but a loving mom. She was not spared the most painful experience of all—losing a child. But in her grief, she has shown the courage and the wisdom that most of us saw in her when she was just starting her foray into politics, doing the rounds of the universities. When asked to ponder why her son had to go at such a young age, Ms. Santiago mused that probably, her son had fulfilled his purpose in life—that of giving her immense joy and solace, accepting her unconditionally no matter what he hears about her from other people. Nobody in the world, except maybe her son, called her “Babe.” And Ms. Santiago seemed to bask in that appellation. Remember her very public posing, clad in a bathing suit, beside the pool? Ms. Santiago also said that perhaps, God had really wanted her to lose the presidency so that she could spend the remaining two-and-a-half years of his son’s life with him. It was so ironic that the reason why his son took his own life was that he failed his constitutional law subject at the Ateneo College of Law. Ms. Santiago is supposed to be an expert on this subject, and this must have been doubly painful for her. It seems as if it was she who failed her son. Ms. Santiago has accepted her son’s death with resignation, even though her husband and eldest son refused to accept suicide as the cause of her son’s death. I am not sure if I correctly heard Jessica’s report but there was a statement that Ms. Santiago would never go into politics again. (Maybe she decided on that before the tragedy struck and her son’s death only sealed further her decision. It could also be that her son’s suicide had made her realize that there was more to life than being President of the Philippines. FPJ should learn a thing or two from Ms. Santiago). While I grieved with Ms. Santiago, I actually celebrated her decision to shun politics altogether. Jessica Soho labeled the four segments shown during this particular episode of her show as follows: politics (FPJ’s declaration of his presidential bid at the Manila Hotel); tragedy (Ms. Santiago’s story); scandal (Michael Jackson’s latest child molestation case); and victory (Manny Pacquiao’s demolition of Barrera). Relabelling of these segments should be in order. Except for Ms. Santiago’s segment, the rest are actually tragedies or are in danger of becoming tragedies. Pacquiao’s victory is being taken advantage of by the government for its infomercials on the Strong Republic. Apparently, Barrera’s punches were not enough punishment for the poor (figuratively, that is) guy. FPJ’s own tragedy is that he will always be associated with Tito Sotto. The Jacko is deteriorating, literally and figuratively. For me, Ms. Santiago’s case, though personal in nature, is the one true victory in the show’s episode. If she remains faithful to the memory of her son, she will forever be spared the muck and mud that is Philippine politics.

october 19, 2003 a pocketful FPJ

I am no fan of George “Dubya” Bush, but I take my hat off to him when it comes to walking down the red carpet during state visits. (PGMA sure looked dignified in her grey suit. I am quite surprised, however, that some missionaries allegedly dissuaded her from wearing blue for the occasion. Malas daw ata. All the while I thought the Catholic church did not believe in hulas, pamahiin and the like.) He has this easy and relaxed gait--even the way he blew kisses to the crowd was "presidentiable." Thus, I cannot help wondering how Fernando Poe, Jr. would fare if (I shudder when I use the word “when”) he becomes president. Well, we’ve seen how his bespren Erap walked, or rather limped, during honor parades. But FPJ? Can he ignore his more than half-century habit of pocketing his hands in public for the whole duration of the parade? For fun, I asked a few friends for suggestions on how FPJ can hide or “make disimula” this old habit. Their suggestions:

1. Ask him to shadow-box while walking down the red carpet.
2. Tell him to ride a horse. Aba, mahirap yatang nakapamulsa habang nangangabayo!
3. Let First Lady Susan Roces walk ahead of him.
4. Replay all his movie one-liners in full volume to distract the crowd. If that is not enough, include his version of “Doon Lang.”
5. Ask him to grow his sideburns really long until they cover his arms.

If you have other suggestions, keep them. You’ll never know when they’ll come in handy.

october 18, 2003 love note 9-12-02

I was looking for an old file among “my docs” when I came across a file named Love Note 9-12-02. Having forgotten the note’s contents, I opened the file. This is what it says:

“Just when we thought we had given up on each other, our dreams of a good life ahead of us prodded us to go on. The sight and sound alone of our precious little one should remind us always of the chance to make our lives matter more than ever. We’ve gone this far. Let’s enjoy the race in search of the end of the rainbow. Together.”

With a smile on my face, I remembered writing this note for my significant other after one of our many spats. What the spat was, I can no longer recall. It could have been one of those insignificant things that got magnified because one of us did not want to lose the fight, no matter how trivial the cause was.

Funny how one can write “mushy” love notes when he is at his saddest. I don’t know but I always have this impression that one writes better when he is unhappy. As they say, “pigang-piga ang damdamin.” It seems we don't see any need to write down our thoughts after an all-night revelry and merriment. All we want after that is to just hit the sack or stare blindly at our bedroom wall, basking in the memory of the event just passed. Or maybe, there are more sad stories to tell than happy ones. Just read the news and you’ll understand what I mean. Perhaps, people write better about unhappy events because these are the only things happening around us. We write about these things out of necessity. Happy occurrences rarely exist anymore. There are more annulments and divorces than reconciliations; more tragedies than good tidings; more desperation than fervent anticipation. And if we do write about the good life, it is more out of wishful thinking than from actual experience. Hanggang pangarap na lang.

These days, we have stopped searching for the end of the rainbow. There are no more rainbows to begin with. Even after the drizzle. The smog in Metro Manila has seen to that.

october 3, 2003 a hopeful Christmas

It’s 83 days before Christmas.

So says a billboard on Oranbo St., near Shaw Boulevard. I was on my way to work when I saw it. I didn’t know if I was going to be happy or be stressed out by the reminder. For an instant, I think I had wished that Christmas would not come so soon—there are still tons of bills to pay, a daughter to be born, some household repairs to be done. I don’t know if I can handle any more stress on top of these.

But when I think of my precious 20-month old first born—she who had been watching her VCD of Christmas baby songs as early as August, who had memorized “Jingle Bells” and who actually knew when to say “hee” (that’s hey for you) at the right time—I can’t help feeling guilty and embarrassed. Surely, it would be selfish for me to even think that Christmas could be postponed. To the eyes of a child, specially one who’s just beginning to appreciate Santa, Christmas knows no economic crisis. It just has to happen.

Indeed, how can you tell a tot to postpone her celebration of Christmas when as early as October, she begins to see all its trappings: the Christmas trees on sale, the colored lights, the street urchin pounding on his home-made bongo while waiting for people to dole a little cash out of their car windows.

We can actually learn a lesson or two from this. One is that, life and Christmas go on no matter what. And second, that no matter how hard life is—don’t you notice that life nowadays is becoming more and more difficult—there is always that sense of hope that Christmas brings. Somehow, we always feel that maybe, just maybe, things would get better by Christmas time. Which is as it should be, because I believe that Christmas also goes by the name HOPE. So if you are contemplating on postponing Christmas this year, think twice. You may actually be postponing hope.

october 1, 2003 "he gave me ..."

Time really flies so fast. I have almost forgotten this column until I decided to rid my incoming tray of junk. Sayang. There were “interesting” goings-on that I failed to write about in the past three months: the F4 phenomenon and chi-novela invasion of local TV; the Jose Pidal controversy; the Kris-Joey fallout. Not that these events have become stale. On the contrary, they still offer—the latter specially—a form of escape after a hard day’s work punctuated by traffic jams and flooded streets. (Why Kris had to reveal she got STD from Joey is still beyond my comprehension). As this shocking saga of star-crossed lovers had kept the whole nation—some say even the world—glued to the TV set, it is no longer a good idea to make “sawsaw” in the issue. Sa totoo lang, nakakasuka na ‘to. After all, Kris has gone back to her regular shows, wearing her usual pa-tsarming smile.

But before leaving this issue altogether, I should say that the one thing probably that has irked me the most about this hullabaloo was the insistence by some people that Kris was a hero, as her father was a hero. One columnist even said that Kris’ revelation proved that finally, her “Aquino blood” had shown. Excuse me. In a sense, that is good for the Cojuangco side of her family. I guess they are relieved that Kris’ coming out was not being branded as a “Cojuangco” trait. If you ask me, the only blood that was evident in Kris’ expose was that of her dancing (remember the impeachment days?) aunt, Tessie Aquino-Oreta.

I also have misgivings about Cory’s outburst that had Ninoy been alive, Joey would surely be dead by now. Sure, Joey would earn Ninoy’s ire, but so would Kris. (How often had we heard people say, before this controversy broke out, that Ninoy might have turned in his grave when his bunsoy got entangled with married men). So I guess it’s not entirely accurate to say that “patay si Joey pag nagkataon!” For me, the better expression for Ninoy’s wrath had he been alive today to witness her favorite daughter’s latest scandal would be: “Patay kang bata ka!”

june 20, 2003 in the name of ratings

I was told that some legal wranglings are in the works against the ABS-CBN Network in connection with the Katya Santos “breast popping” incident a few days ago. This presumably has nothing to do with the network’s suspension of Willie Revillame and John Estrada for, I suppose, the same “misdeameanor” for which they were previously suspended. (I’m sorry, but hard as I tried, I never got to spend one whole hour watching MTB—my gosh, I don’t even know what this now stands for. And this not only because I cannot stand its hosts, but because of Mahal. I will elaborate later on.) What this tells us is that, while seemingly unrelated to each other, these two incidents stem from one common source – SEX. (My law partner said this afternoon that he’s tired of being a lawyer. I told him I had the same feeling. “I wish,” I said, “plain housewife na lang ako..” To which, my partner said: “Di ba pwedeng puro sex na lang?”).

Just last week, allegations of sexual harassment were thrown against a high-ranking church official. Even GMA-7 I think is not spared from a morality investigation—you know, because of the sex bomb dancers’ daily gyration and those “spaghetting pababa/pataas” dance aerobics. It seems the showbiz industry is alive again. It’s been a while since any interesting event has happened in showbiz. The Aleck Bovick brouhaha did not quite stir any hornet’s nest, except of course, prompt Ara Mina to say some of her thoughts about not winning the best actress award for “Mano Po.”

If you ask me, ABS-CBN’s greater sin (of course it redeemed itself when it did not re-hire Revillame as MTB host) is making that teeny weeny of an actress (?) named Mahal a mascot to be made fun of by the MTB hosts. I saw her during one MTB episode while having lunch at our building’s cafeteria. As if that was not enough, MTB even hired her clone. One Mahal is not exactly tasteful, but two? Que horror! (I learned later on that the clone was actually a male).

The MTB bigwig who brought up the idea of Mahal twins co-hosting the show should be executed by musketry. I call on the MTRCB to make an independent investigation about this travesty of “special” people. In the name of ratings, some network people make a life out of being soooo insensitive.

may 28, 2003 disasters-Philippine style

The rains are here again. And with it the (more than expected) maritime disasters. When will they end? Probably never.

How many times have we seen bodies upon bodies of small children and elderly people in various state of stiffness and poses—as if they had been touched by Midas—being carried in half-open cadaver bags? How many times have we heard the authorities say after each accident that “heads will roll” only to realize later that what merely rolled was the price of oil, usually not “back” but forward? If this is the government’s way of numbing the people to pain and empathy, then it has been quite successful. After the cursory questions like “Talaga? May lumubog na naman? Ilan ang namatay? Saan? Anong barko?”, people would go about their usual chores as if these events happen ordinarily. In a way they do, what with the frequency of their happening. Give them two weeks and the people will have forgotten the latest disaster involving the M/V San Antonio and SuperFerry 12. The ocean is so wide one cannot imagine how a gigantic boat can bang itself to an even bigger boat.

If you ask me, we are a cursed people. We are cursed for getting the kind of ship captains and ship workers that we get. We are cursed because we do not give a damn about our and our children’s safety. We ride every overloaded passenger carrier imaginable—starting from the lowly overloaded pedicab to the overloaded motorcycle, the overloaded tricycle, the overloaded jeep, the overloaded bus, the overloaded ship, even the overloaded improvised tractor (the one being used in the province that does not have a reflectorized sticker and has caused not a few accidents specially at night). Ayay-yay!

Really. Gusto kong mangurot ng singit!

may 26, 2003 someday i'll

Today, a very good friend of mine emailed me this inspiring piece:

"There is an island fantasy
A ‘Someday I'll’ we'll never see
When recession stops, inflation ceases
Our mortgage is paid, our pay increases
That Someday I'll where problems end
Where every piece of mail is from a friend
Where the children are sweet and already grown
Where all the other nations can go it alone
Where we all retire at forty-one
Playing backgammon in the island sun
Most unhappy people look to tomorrow
To erase this day's hardship and sorrow
They put happiness on lay-away
And struggle through a blue today
But happiness cannot be sought
It can't be earned, it can't be bought
Life's most important revelation
Is that the journey means more than the destination
Happiness is where you are right now
Pushing a pencil or pushing a plow
Going to school or standing in line
Watching and waiting, or tasting the wine
If you live in the past you become senile
If you live in the future you're on Someday I'll
The fear of results is procrastination
The joy of today is celebration
You can save, you can slave, trudging mile after mile
But you'll never set foot on your Someday I'll
When you've paid all your dues and put in your time
Out of nowhere comes another Mt. Everest to climb
From this day forward make it your vow
Take Someday I'll and make it your now!”

When you really think about it, this world is full of “Someday I’ll” and “I’ll never” mindset that LIVING has ceased to become what it really is. We have all become (pre-need) planners, soothsayers, speculators, futuristic freaks and what have you. Of course, it is always good to plan for the future. And one’s not supposed to make fun of the exercise buff who died after getting bitten by a rabid dog while doing his morning jogging, but sometimes, one can’t helped getting amused by the irony of everyday events. So where am I getting at? Nowhere in particular. I’m just trying to make use of my NOW, awash in the thought that justifications abound for not finishing a long overdue supplemental affidavit. Don’t worry, boss, Someday I’ll . . . (Our acknowledgments to the author of "Someday I'll"--whoever he/she is).

may 13, 2003 what daydreaming can do to you

(Note: I wrote the first part of these logs, from May to October 2003, initially as a form of release, with no intention of making them public. Then I was told of this site’s existence. I guess there’s no harm really in publishing my personal take on anything and everything under the sun. I wanted to retain the title e-legal musings that’s why I thought of posting these previous logs while writing current ones in the coming days).


There is something about the legal profession that makes daydreaming the most sought-after refuge of lawyers trying to escape the drudgery of their work or their existence, or both. To the 30-something and still very much single junior associate or the solo (old enough to be your grandpa) practitioner with the tattered briefcase who refuses to retire, daydreaming offers a short, but welcome, respite from the endless paperwork and deadlines that have to be met.

It is during one of these daydreaming moments (actually it’s almost 6 p.m. already) that this column was conceived. Surely, why should I care about the reply-affidavit waiting to be finished when my baby is eagerly waiting for her “mamay” to come home from the law office where she works. Would it really matter if my pleading was two or three pages less than that of my opponent's? Would those pages have any impact at all on the SARS victims who have traveled to the beyond? Aww-shucks, there goes another “live the moment” and “carpe diem” column. I’m sorry, that’s not where I’m headed. I’m just bored, that’s all. I should have taken up medicine.

----------------------------

Why e-legal? As today’s starlets would say, “Wala lang.” (This expression is a very handy answer to use specially when you can’t think of anything better to say. Actually, what it means is that “wala lang akong ma-say.”).

I thought of riding on the wave of the electronic revolution by prefixing this column with the ubiquitous “e” and playing on the word “illegal.” Lest you have the wrong impression, however, this is not about the internet as applied to the law profession. Rather, this column is merely a random take on anything that is seemingly related to lawyers and the law in general and almost about anything that happens in between the author’s lawyering duties and family life. It’s not a legal advisory column—I have no plans of running for senator or any other public office.

Besides, I have no talent for dishing out impromptu legal advice as if the law is at the tip of my fingers. Without my rules of court or revised penal code beside me, I am like a fish out of the ocean. That’s why I am greatly awed by legal practitioners (especially the showbiz-bound) who appear on TV announcing to all non-legal persons out there that their equally-famous clients did not commit the crime they have been accused of.

Of course, it's so easy to say “under the law” or “as held by the Supreme Court” or “pursuant to the rules on evidence” and such other legal gobbledygook while making “papungay” before the cameras and gingerly touching the lapel of one’s Armani suit but hey, it takes a special kind of person to do that. Not every lawyer can act. Of course, it helps if your client is the former president of the Republic of the Philippines. In which case, it’s ok to act cute before the cameras. If I had the former President as a client, I would not need my civil code around. I will only need a wristband. Orange if you please.