Civil Disobedience?

I'm writing in reaction to Conrado de Quiros' commentary yesterday, Apr. 26 in the PDI, which advocated "civil disobedience" as the way to truly booting out the "pretender" from Malacanang. Here's a link to that commentary by de Quiros: Yet Again, Alternatives

de Quiros' call for civil disobedience reminded me of a story about a King who stoppped being a King when he lost all his followers. It goes like this:

Once there was a selfish king who lived and ruled in a faraway kingdom. He was very cruel with his subjects and imposed heavy taxes on them. He would order imprisonment or whiplashes for those who tried to disobey him. The citizenry, afraid and unable to do anything, suffered silently, while the king continued to rule foolishly.

One day, while the king was bathing, he called for his musicians to play him something. One of those musicians, having had little to eat, kept coughing. The king, irritated by this, ordered his guards to throw the musician in jail.

"How dare he get sick in front of me!" the king fumed. "Doesn't he know it's unlawful to cough in front of the king?" At the thought of having the insolent musician now languishing in jail, the king's mood brightened up and he called for someone else to replace the musician. A little girl was brought forth. She was a singer, and was known for her lovely voice. Unknown to the king, the musician whom he had just had thrown in jail, was the girl's father. The girl, having heard of this, refused to sing for the king. The king was so angered by this that he ordered the harshest punishment he could think of for the girl. Torture.

So the girl was thrown in one of the castle's dungeons and was told to await her punishment come nightfall. The girl, though very afraid at the thought of being tortured, kept her courage up and sang to herself to make her fears go away.

When night came, a hooded man entered the cell. He had with him the tools of his trade. Without warning, the hooded man bellowed at the girl.

"Will you not change your mind and sing for the king? I can tell the king you changed your mind and we'd have none of this torture."

Though by this time, the girl's fear truly reached its height, the girl bravely answered, "I will not sing for the king. For he has thrown my father in jail when my father's only sin was to cough in front of him. My father, who got sick, because the king would not stop increasing the taxes he's asking from us. My father, who got sick because the king would hardly pay him enough to buy us food, and his medicines."

The hooded man knew the story of the girl and her father. Though he was sympathetic to their plight, he knew that if he wavered on his job, it would be him who would be tortured for failing to obey the king. So he implored the girl:

"Will you not at least ask forgiveness from the king and tell him you're sorry?"

at which the girl answered, "I cannot ask forgiveness for it was not I who have sinned."

at this, the man was truly amazed at the courage of the girl. It broke his heart that now he must torture this girl for no other crime than that she wanted to defend her father. He stepped forward, and took one of the whips off the table when he heard the girl speak.

"But if you want, I can sing for you."

And the girl sang. Her voice was so clear, and touched the man so, that he fell down on his knees crying. He let go of the whip he was holding, and told the girl

"I cannot hurt someone who can sing beautifully such as you. I would rather endure the king's wrath than flay a girl with a voice as yours."

And so the man left the girl alone. He went back to the king and told the king his decision. The king imediately had him thrown in the same cell as the girl, and ordered that both of them would now be tortured.

As what happened the first night, another hooded man came in, now to torture them both. But like the first night, the man heard the girl sing and was so moved by her singing, that he went back to the king same as the first one, and was thrown in the same cell.

Each night, a slew of men entered the cell, to torture the girl and all who came before them who failed, and came out refusing to do his job as well. The cell got so ridiculously crowded, that the king had to order his headsmen to kill some of the prisoners to free up some room. But by this time, the story of the girl and her would-be torturers had gotten around the palace, that the headsmen who were summoned rudely told the king: Up yours! threw down their axes, and left the king in shock.

The king was now truly in a rage. He ordered all his soldiers to capture and kill everyone who disobeyed him, and warned them that anyone who disobeys him further will have his life and their family's life as well, forfeited. But the soldiers knowing that the king had no headsman left to do his executions for him, laughed at the king and paid him no heed. They went further, and released all the prisoners inside the dungeons, the girl and her father along with them, and announced that they would be going back to their former lives as farmers, fishermen, bakers, and would not work for the king anymore.

This caused an avalanched of resignation at the palace that soon, the only followers the king had left were his advisers, and his royal sycophants.

The king was unperturbed, thinking that the people would soon realize their mistake and come back crying for forgiveness. At such thought, he happilly devised devious punishment for each one who disobeyed him.

"They need me," he thought. "I am the king. Who would rule over them if they have no king? Who would protect them but I?"

So the king went to sleep peacefully, expecting that the next morning would have him taking the people's apologies and handing out punishments just like before.

When he awoke, he bellowed for his maids to help him with his clothes. Instead of the maids coming, two of his advisers went inside his room instead.

"But sir, don't you recall? Everyone left yesterday. We, your advisers, and some of your allies, are the only ones left in the palace." one of the advisers reminded the king. And as if he had some further wisdom to impart, the other one quickly added, "But don't you worry my king, once the people realizes their mistake, we'd have all your servants back, and a few heads rolling as well. And then, you can reward us, your faithful servants, with the kingdom's wealth, just as we righfully deserve."

"Yes," the first one agreed. "This is what we advise you to do. Just wait for the people to realize their mistake."

The king was glad then, and ordered the two to come and break their fast with him. At this, the two advisers told the king that no food were prepared because even the royal cook had left the palace.

"No problem then!" the king said. "I'll just go to the royal orchard and pick some fruits."

But was told, that again, the people, in all their frenzy, had picked all the fruits in the orchard, and left none for them to pick.

"I'll go to the store room then. I know we have an abundance of milk, cheese, and wheat..."

But the two advisers shaked their head sadly and told him, that those too, were taken by the people.

"But what are we going to eat?" the king demanded.

"Well sir," one of the advisers volunteered. "I saw one of your cows grazing not far off. We can still make use of her for milk, cheese, and for meat later on, if the people still persists in their madness."

"Well, very good. Why don't you go to her and milk her then?"

"But sir, I am just your adviser. I know not how to milk a cow. I can give you advise on how to divide the kingdom's wealth, on whom to punish and why, but I can't give you advise on how to milk a cow."

and the other adviser, not to be outdone, added:

"Me neither sir. I did not study to become your adviser just to milk a cow. If you want, I can prepare a report for you of all the names of the people in the kingdom who can milk this cow for you."

I know that something similar to the story happening today is unrealistic. Our society has grown much more complex that a simple refusal of a few to obey the President would result in her being thrown out of power.

But the idea is there. Take away the country's workhorse, OFWs sending in their hard earned dollars through legal channels, honest civil servants working so hard for a system set against them, police and military personnel loyal to the country brainwashed into thinking that the state is the President, even small business entrepreneurs taxed so hard by this government while big businesses flourish at evading much larger taxes, take away all of these and the "Iron Queen" would be a queen of nothing but a bunch of legal-savvy monkeys and ill-bred sycophants.

Civil disobedience by not paying taxes won't work. Taxes are so ingrained in our everyday lives its hard to avoid them, even with us not paying our AITs, we inevitably pay them. When we order a Value Meal at McDo, when we purchase one bottle of Tempra, when we buy that package of baby diapers, every purchase that we make, is taxed by this undeserving government.

I say we go further than that. I say, instead of civil disobedience, we practive civil obedience. Obedience not to this President nor to this government, but obedience to this country's laws. God knows we have enough of them to make our country much better.

Why not start with obeying traffic rules? Lord knows much of our traffic woes are of our own making. Drivers and pedestrians alike. Imagine just a day wherein we can go back and forth the office without the headache given by stalled traffic because of counterflows and pedestrians crossing where they will. Imagine just a day wherein we refuse to bribe police officers when they apprehend us. Wow, an action that just maybe, could make that policeman proud enought to wear his uniform, and promise himself that he'll stop collecting his part in that jueteng operation.

For those in goverment employ, why not start with doing your jobs with a smile? We know none of you are ever compelled to give the best service since competition does not exist in your market, but perhaps, just the knowledge that you are doing your best will be enough for some of you. Just the thought that, though those in the higher-ups pay little heed to your own needs, you're getting back at them by actually performing better than them!

There's a lot of other things we can "obediently" do to actually make our country a better place to live in. I agree, God has made our work a lot harder by allowing leaders like GMA and de Venecia to perpetuate themselves in power in our country, but just think, God does not give us mountains which He doesn't think we can climb!

We may have lousy leaders, but they can't stop us from improving our lot in our own simple way, one day at a time. With little things, I'm sure people like them will slowly be gone. Just as sure as ticks falling off when we bathe our dog, those undeserving leaders would fall one by one, when we start showing them that we are a citizenry to be respected, by having respect in ourselves and refusing to be mired in hopelesness and mediocrity.

We are only so free, as our minds allow us to be.

We are only so wealthy, as our actions allow us to be.

The Filipino is a great being. We only have to highlight all that makes him great and strike down all that makes him evil.

It all starts with ourselves.

Refuse to be the typical "undisciplined" Filipino, and be the unusual "great" Filipino.

It all takes one, to change a whole.

About

Yeah, I'm in my nth time posting online. As you'll probably notice, I have a new link under my "clickies." It's a link to my other blog at livejournal. Please don't read so much into it and think that there's anything there other than what I really wrote.

Disclaimer: as it is my blog, and my point of view, I am entitled to be a little biased, and free to tell the story, the way I went through it. Others (who are in it) may disagree, and they are very free to do so, but as I've said, not everything there is written the way it really happened, or exactly how it happened. It's only a distorted retelling of how I remember those events, how I wrote about it at that time, and how I interpreted them with the information I had at the time of my writing it.

As with my other written works, most of the driving force behind it are raw emotions, quite powerful and likely enough to evoke vivid images of it. I will not be liable for any cases of acquired insanity caused by reading my posts. I repeat: read at your own peril.

I will note in my posts if what I've written is a retelling of an actual event, a daydream wishing to be true, a letter I wrote a long time ago, or just something I plainly want to post. Poems are quite apparent and easy to spot, so you'll forgive me when I don't say: excuse me, but this is a poem, not a rant. (haha, 'coz you might think it's one depending on what poems I post there)

I all wish you a happy time clicking, and browsing your time away. Feel free to indulge in the most guilty pleasure of reading. That of reading other people's letters and talking back at them (or at your computer) for the stupid, silly, sappy  things they're writing.

These are some of my most private thoughts and experiences. Please don't debase it and post a comment like: you stupid negro! you inconsiderate prick! how could you do/say a thing like that? I know i'm probably most of those things, but if you really didn't like what I wrote, can you just at least say it in a nice way. Please do not curse or flame me. I'm really a sensitive guy underneath. I get hurt easily. (haha. naah. just playing wit' ya. wth? say whatever you wanna say and I'll probably retort something of the like to you)

And oh, Lestat wasn't my original favorite when I first watched "Interview." I fell in love with Louis' character more. It was only upon reading "Lestat" and "Memnoch" that I began to appreciate the depth of Lestat's character. Let's just say that there are pieces of each of their character which I can really connect with.

Louis is an immortal able to change with the times, while Lestat is an immortal both hating and loving his being one.

I'm not an immortal like them. But I feel the way they do. Cast away by God for being the way we are, which fate has gifted us anyway.

PS.

you have to read LIVE starting from the bottom going up

otherwise, you'll miss the most beautiful part of my stroytelling.

which is: fragmenting the whole to give a titilating view of a part.

Plus, you won't be able to follow the gist of my posts...

Being Lestat

I'ver read Anne Rice's "Interview..." and "Lestat" long before I realized I actually liked these romantic blood-suckers. My better-half drew out of me my interest in them. Like a lot of things I disliked before and now like, vampires for me has become something which I count as how much Mamuy has changed me.

I still remember how I felt after reading Lestat's story, how that brief glimpse in an immortal's life and psyche made me felt somehow -- connected.

I read "Lestat" long ago, yet it's only now that I truly understand what Lestat was griping about when he said that: the world is a savage garden. If I meet Lestat right now, I'd say to him: I feel you man. I understand why you hate God.

I mean for godssakes, he was given a gift/curse (depending on how you view it) which he did not want, and in which he was able to experience what many mortals were unable to experience. To view man's suffering in the flow of time, to be their predator and share their grief, to have lived a millenia and reached a point where he actually longed for death...

Truly who wouldn't cry out to heaven and say: you made the world a savage garden, for what purpose, you unfathomable prick?

Even Anne Rice's discourse on heaven and earth, the angels, and God's reason for creating man, in her other book "Memnoch," made me feel Lestat's pain more. And yet, when given that choice to either side with God or with Satan, Lestat chose God.

And this is how Lestat's savage garden truly comes full circle.

To have lived his life and know eternity and despair, seen in the eyes of an immortal, the view of the world can certainly one that can be called:  a savage garden. A garden where you can see the most beautiful roses, pick one up, and be pricked by its thorns.

It's the paradox of life. Pain makes life bloom unlike any other emotion we can experience.

---

To see the world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wild flower

Fuck fate which isn't in your hand, and curse God and his damn power

Support CineMalaya and Junk MMFF Altogether

I don't understand what the fuss is all about this MMFF "rumor" of "undeserved winers" and "mafia-run" juries. Frankly, I don't give a fuck. MMFF for me has already been an institution beyond any salvation ever since Lolit committed that great scam in the 90's. Everyone knows that year after year, MMFF continues to patronize mediocre films just because they have:

a) big budgets

b)big-time producers or directors or

c) both

For an industry that's needing a much needed boost, it's a big relief that CineMalaya  came to life.

This is where the true salvation of Pinoy films lie. If only people would see that. Already, our indies are raking in international awards that our "big-time" directors can only gawk at. Shame. Just like our medical professionals, our indies are only appreciated "abroad."

Thankfully, with CineMalaya, great young talents are given the chance to show their creativity and be discovered in the process. Even the last placed film in this festival will pussy-whip any best picture the MMFF deems "best." What a sorry ass of mind MMFF judges must have when they'd rather have "Hula mo, Huli Ko" in the roster than "Magnifico."

So I don't understand what the hulabaloo is about. So you didn't win the prize, bohoo. Who cares? Your movie made money at the box-office (thanks to the brilliant idea of protectionism, which I think should be given to CineMalaya and not, pwe, MMFF, which incidentally kills all efforts at excellence and promotes a culture of mediocrity) (and by saying "mediocre" I'm saying MMFF has sunk even lower than that. Hello! Terrorist Hunter anyone?), your talents all earned fat paychecks, and you've just degraded Philippine Cinema to the coldest depths of hell.

Who cares if you never got that stinkin' trophy? It's a piece of trash anyway. MMFF has made sure of that.

TRUE filmmakers don't care about the awards they'll get. They care about the art. They know that recognition comes from the audience, not from a bunch of silly saps who think they know Bergman from Kubrick. Real filmmakers care not about prizes. What's important for them is expressing their creativity and showing people what LIFE is all about.

I agree with Zulueta. MMFF is not a festival. It's a carnival.

No I aint crazy -- yet. Still, aint I beautiful as I always am?

There is a beautiful line in the movie "Proof" that goes:

"Let X equal the quantity of all quantities of X. Let X equal the cold. It is cold in December. The months of cold equal November through February. There are four months of cold and four of heat, leaving four months of indeterminate temperature. In February. It snows. In March. The lake is a lake of ice. In September. The students come back and the bookstores are full. Let X equal the month of full bookstores. The number of books approaches infinity as the number of months of cold approaches four. I will never be as cold now as I will in the future. The future of cold is infinite. The future of heat is the future of cold. The bookstores are infinite and so are never full except in September."

It kind of sums up how I feel. It somehow sounds right to be crazy sometimes.

If that's what it means to be a brilliant mathematician, then I'm glad I suck at math!

It struck me how "Proof" ran so much like my theory on writers and authors. That: there's no such things as brilliant young authors, only old wise writers.

While the formula for greatness in math lies locked in numbers, ours in literature lies in surviving our experiences. It is no strange coincidence that great writers in literature's history produced their greatest work at the sunset of their lives.

I believe there are many young writers who are very promising, a diamond waiting to be cut -- yet only few proceed on to greatness. Why?

I believe the key lies in their struggles -- in the tragedies in their life.

There are those who succumb, those who try so hard to reproduce the "magic" of their "wonder years," and there are those who rise up, and goes on knowing in their hearts who they are.

It's funny. In retrospect, what I thought was "great work" in my HS days now reads like some writer just trying to sound wise. While I feel I know much better now, who's to say what I would think when I'm in my 40's? Perhaps I'd pick up this notebook, read it, and say to myself: Oh, Jao, you presumptous fool. That idea's an old wagon. It's been gotten on so many times that no one bothers to hail it anymore.

But what do I know? I'm just in my "declining years" as the movie happily points out. And why do I care? In my theory, my greatness hasn't even yet started. I haven't even begun to recite my prime numbers. I'm just beginning to learn how to count to ten.

I'll be 40 in about 15 years, maybe then you'll have heard of me -- or not.

Well, it depends on whether I survive whatever life throws at me during these next 15 years, or at least, that's how it goes in my theory. And in the movie, as well as in life, there's no easy way in proving one's theory. Only an easy way in disproving one.

Prove me wrong then, if you will.