I hope you can spare a moment to read this rather lengthy letter. I’m fully aware of how busy you are in the campaign trail. I wrote it to remind myself and others of what is at stake in the coming elections.
The marriage was wind-blown and flood-prone from the start.
Happy though they were in thinking that tying the knot might iron out some of the creases that began early in the relationship, it was apparent that the noose resembled more a hangman’s than a Christmas ribbon.
Wind-flung, and towed briskly across miles of sleeping masses, the wreath of smoke hinting of the odor of charred vanilla rose to signal one of the most infamous acts of censorship in history: Nazi Germany’s book burning on the night of May 10, 1933.
This bizarre soiree of ignorantia legis (ignorance of the law), to which we’ve been treated by such patent political luminaries as the Philippine National Police Chief and the President himself, got me thinking: to whom do we owe the warped distinction of being regarded as buffoons?
Some Filipinos hate Jose Rizal. Consider me one of them.
Reasons vary. For some, Rizal was too much a part of the bourgeoisie to soil his hands with blood and gunpowder. Others stress he was a lackey of the Americans, a “safe” choice for a Filipino national hero all because…