E·N·Q·U·I·R·Y
DEMAREE J.B. RAVAL
My Man of the Year 2005
Sunday, 01 08 2006
But first, the criteria: First, the awardee should be one whose persona best exemplifies how our divided and confused nation went in 2005. Second, the person who gets the distinction must have ingrained himself very deeply in the psyche of the Filipino people, however, undeservedly. Third, his notoriety must be the consequence of his ingenious acts of asserting his will over people and events. Fourth, he must have defined mores of contemporary society or, at least, provoked the nation into some soul searching. And, fifth, his notoriety must be of some degree that no self-respecting Filipino ought even dare to emulate.
My Man of the Year has been all these, bar none.
Ironically, my nominee for this award was more conspicuous by his absence. I mean, he simply went to ground, as the spy thrillers would say. For six months last year, nobody could tell whether he was just chilling out incognito somewhere in the country or he had been flown out to some exile to avoid some very interested parties who wanted to meet him in the flesh and hear his voice.
Now, that was quite a voice he had. I don’t mean he could belt it out with Andrea Bocelli. No way, man. But he had a voice that brought a smug satisfaction and reassurance to those he spoke with, that even the President was one of those who desperately wanted to be his cellphone pal. Snippets of his conversations are now preserved for posterity in many a ringtone all over the country, and we are told that even the Americans have adopted a similar innovation these days. Can you beat that?
My Man of the Year is a stand-up man. When most people would tremble in their shoes when the going gets tough, my man simply shuts his mouth and takes his lumps from his chagrined inquisitors. This has gained for him the admiration of many, who thought he was just the victim of some technophile out to embarrass him and his celebrated phonepal. Of course, there have been others who could only squirm at his obdurate display of loyalty, prompting them to pray that may a thousand worms infest the throat of my man and may his breath turn infernally fetid every time he says a word of denial.
My Man of the Year is a survivor. He had better be. With 35 years of on-the-job experience, he has fined-tuned the art of placing people in strategic places so that a pre-determined result could be achieved through a simple call in his cellphone. Even the bungling efforts of the Palace spokesman clumsily trying to cover up a monumental blunder was not enough to bring contempt of the people to my man. Millions were poured into his makeover and he, by the looks of it, survived 2005.
My Man of the Year is an expert in his job. You don’t even have to buy a book about it – just ask him. He will tell you how he cultivated a network from the day he wrote the appointing power that he could do wonders for her. He knew and capitalized on the weakness of his patron to achieve what every self-designated expert aspires for: to be in the forefront of a national exercise, in a position both to influence the outcome and make money in the process of performing miraculous results. He used his nephew, his military aide, his executive assistant, and just about every one in the bureaucracy who could move at his bidding. Management firms should be bidding for his services by now.
The exploits of my man has jiggled our national consciousness and made us realize how fragile our democracy is. But then, what democracy are we talking about when the citizen can easily fall prey to the blandishments of money and the intimidating use of power? Has it not finally dawned on us that not much has changed 18 years after Edsa? And that change we must, now – unless we want a government 85 percent of us think we can do without. The so-called leaders in our midst truly deserve our contempt, but until now that impetus to rise above our weaknesses is tragically absent. Until that day comes, we can only suffer while we find no solace in the thought that 2000 is still too far off to get rid of a leader we no longer want. For all these, thanks to my man.
My man is the personification of notoriety very well earned. He was the product of both adept media handling and effective crisis management. We grudgingly appreciate how he was able to survive six months in isolation, while the media was manipulated to turn the tide of public contempt against him. But that is one achievement we do not wish on everyone else. The yellow-and-blue media pictured him as a hero, but an equally irate media made him the highest point of glory, power and importance of everything bad about us.
Despite all these, my man looks like he’s over the hump – at least until that “group of wise men” summons enough will to invite him to yet another audition. He benefited from a moneyed apparatus of vested interests, and benefited more from the unintelligent and unintelligible questioning in that “other House.” His disappearance and reappearance dominated the headlines, not only in the political scene but even in the markets, sending the peso and the stock exchange to record lows and fueling public unease that dealt serious blows to the economy. Pursuing the matter of his whereabouts and many more irrelevancies tasked our patience, but then he would not be my Man of the Year if he was not a goddamn escape artist.
For all these achievements, in a year of fast-changing fortunes, lawyer Virgilio Garcillano is my Man of the Year just past.
For comments about this website:Webmaster@tribune.net.ph
DEMAREE J.B. RAVAL
My Man of the Year 2005
Sunday, 01 08 2006
But first, the criteria: First, the awardee should be one whose persona best exemplifies how our divided and confused nation went in 2005. Second, the person who gets the distinction must have ingrained himself very deeply in the psyche of the Filipino people, however, undeservedly. Third, his notoriety must be the consequence of his ingenious acts of asserting his will over people and events. Fourth, he must have defined mores of contemporary society or, at least, provoked the nation into some soul searching. And, fifth, his notoriety must be of some degree that no self-respecting Filipino ought even dare to emulate.
My Man of the Year has been all these, bar none.
Ironically, my nominee for this award was more conspicuous by his absence. I mean, he simply went to ground, as the spy thrillers would say. For six months last year, nobody could tell whether he was just chilling out incognito somewhere in the country or he had been flown out to some exile to avoid some very interested parties who wanted to meet him in the flesh and hear his voice.
Now, that was quite a voice he had. I don’t mean he could belt it out with Andrea Bocelli. No way, man. But he had a voice that brought a smug satisfaction and reassurance to those he spoke with, that even the President was one of those who desperately wanted to be his cellphone pal. Snippets of his conversations are now preserved for posterity in many a ringtone all over the country, and we are told that even the Americans have adopted a similar innovation these days. Can you beat that?
My Man of the Year is a stand-up man. When most people would tremble in their shoes when the going gets tough, my man simply shuts his mouth and takes his lumps from his chagrined inquisitors. This has gained for him the admiration of many, who thought he was just the victim of some technophile out to embarrass him and his celebrated phonepal. Of course, there have been others who could only squirm at his obdurate display of loyalty, prompting them to pray that may a thousand worms infest the throat of my man and may his breath turn infernally fetid every time he says a word of denial.
My Man of the Year is a survivor. He had better be. With 35 years of on-the-job experience, he has fined-tuned the art of placing people in strategic places so that a pre-determined result could be achieved through a simple call in his cellphone. Even the bungling efforts of the Palace spokesman clumsily trying to cover up a monumental blunder was not enough to bring contempt of the people to my man. Millions were poured into his makeover and he, by the looks of it, survived 2005.
My Man of the Year is an expert in his job. You don’t even have to buy a book about it – just ask him. He will tell you how he cultivated a network from the day he wrote the appointing power that he could do wonders for her. He knew and capitalized on the weakness of his patron to achieve what every self-designated expert aspires for: to be in the forefront of a national exercise, in a position both to influence the outcome and make money in the process of performing miraculous results. He used his nephew, his military aide, his executive assistant, and just about every one in the bureaucracy who could move at his bidding. Management firms should be bidding for his services by now.
The exploits of my man has jiggled our national consciousness and made us realize how fragile our democracy is. But then, what democracy are we talking about when the citizen can easily fall prey to the blandishments of money and the intimidating use of power? Has it not finally dawned on us that not much has changed 18 years after Edsa? And that change we must, now – unless we want a government 85 percent of us think we can do without. The so-called leaders in our midst truly deserve our contempt, but until now that impetus to rise above our weaknesses is tragically absent. Until that day comes, we can only suffer while we find no solace in the thought that 2000 is still too far off to get rid of a leader we no longer want. For all these, thanks to my man.
My man is the personification of notoriety very well earned. He was the product of both adept media handling and effective crisis management. We grudgingly appreciate how he was able to survive six months in isolation, while the media was manipulated to turn the tide of public contempt against him. But that is one achievement we do not wish on everyone else. The yellow-and-blue media pictured him as a hero, but an equally irate media made him the highest point of glory, power and importance of everything bad about us.
Despite all these, my man looks like he’s over the hump – at least until that “group of wise men” summons enough will to invite him to yet another audition. He benefited from a moneyed apparatus of vested interests, and benefited more from the unintelligent and unintelligible questioning in that “other House.” His disappearance and reappearance dominated the headlines, not only in the political scene but even in the markets, sending the peso and the stock exchange to record lows and fueling public unease that dealt serious blows to the economy. Pursuing the matter of his whereabouts and many more irrelevancies tasked our patience, but then he would not be my Man of the Year if he was not a goddamn escape artist.
For all these achievements, in a year of fast-changing fortunes, lawyer Virgilio Garcillano is my Man of the Year just past.
For comments about this website:Webmaster@tribune.net.ph
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