I am amused more than being fed up with the unimaginative and oftentimes asinine campaign slogans the public has to endure seeing on TV. I don’t have to spell out the ludicrousness of some of the ads when, say you are being asked to plant a vegetable in the senate, or to proclaim that he is an idol or something… well, I think you get the point.
Inspired perhaps by Dan Brown’s da Vinci Code, or probably due to lack of a better creative imagination, campaign hucksters for both Team Unity and Genuine Opposition candidates came up with their own acronyms – equally silly and nonsensical – evidently to provide some sort of mnemonic aid or name recall to the voters come election time.
For one – its something like giving something for the kids. For the other - in a rather subversive-like tone – its something like planning some revolt. I wouldn’t know exactly the extent of time and brain power these geniuses have used up in coming up with those anagrams, which are apparently taken from the first letters of the candidates’ names.
But for less than twenty minutes, I had fun mingling up letters of the party names, and came up with some very interesting results. Whether these are apropos to the party concerned, I prudently refrain from saying these are so. (wink)
First off, the acronyms TU and GO. Personally I find the names painfully inappropriate. For instance, Team Unity – they could not possibly pass off an utterly scandalous alliance of convenience as even nearing the concept of unity. As if the inclusion of the likes of Oreta and Sotto, would bring the nation into the verge of solidarity. Nothing could insult our intelligence more.
In the same vein, I couldn’t discern the genuineness of the opposition in the Genuine Opposition. Opposition to what? Save for some candidates, its more of blind loyalty to Erap or extreme hate of GMA’s guts. While I agree to the reality of the rampant corruption being pictured in their TV ads – what I cannot stand however is the hypocritical irony of the message being delivered, in all seeming conviction, by no less than Erap – the president supposedly thrown out from office and currently being prosecuted for plunder.
Thus –
TU + GO = GOUT
They are painfully sanctimonious – they’re like arthritic attacks to our senses.
I also came up with anagrams for the words TEAM UNITY and GENUINE OPPOSITION. Here they are:
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Back in high school – or even in college – I got decent grades for my subjects in Filipino. At one point, I even got the top prize in an on-the-spot tula writing contest. What I couldn’t quite figure out is why they call it Filipino when most of it is Tagalog. Spare me the history lecture though – I’m just stressing a point here. I don’t object to having Tagalog as a national language but just allow me to call a spade a spade. You call it Filipino but from where I sit, it’s still Tagalog.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not inviting some needless debates here. Being a true-blue bisdak (short for bisayang dako or my translation: bigtime bisaya), I’m just trying to ventilate this personal concern: my Tagalog or more particularly: my Tagalog with Cebuano inflection.
I could get around talking to foreigner clients in English but when I converse with some tagalog-speaking ones, I couldn’t help feeling a bit conscious. Not that they are of loftier origins, it’s just this second language forced on me since childhood – most of which I never get to use.
I remembered asking my tagalog friend in review school, “Pare, pahiram nga ng aklat mo?” I couldn’t quite picture that surprised-turned-frowning-turned-confused-turned-amused look in his face anymore. “Aklat, pare?” I was glad I didn’t follow it up with, “Punta muna ako sa silid-aralan, pare.”
One bisdak guy committed the worst howler, “Manang, pabili nga ng sigarilyo, gitna lang.” You could not possibly draw the grimace from that lady’s face. “Ano?!” My bisdak friend, replied, “Gitna lang ba…Tunga!! Half! Half-pak… aw…hati pala… gui-ahak ani uyi!.”
When I speak tagalog, I do it however with a much dignified Cebuano accent. My wife, a good tagalog-speaker had no qualms poking fun at it. But behold my bisdak friends, I do not feel the tiniest bit of ignominy, much less, diffidence as in fact I am proud of how I speak it – the only way a real bisaya would. I join the ranks of the great. Are you not in awe with the granite-like, sturdy, and solid accent of Pimentel, of former senator Ernesto Herrera? How about that flinty, Herculean intonation of Cerge Remonde, or better still, of Manny Pacquiao? Ha!
So when I chanced upon this e-mail this morning, I laughed hard reading it. It is a sampler of English words translated into Bisaya with a twist of Tagalog. If you don’t get it, chances are, you’re not a bisdak.
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(A friend from way back in high school, Richard Milton Harris posted this witty reply-letter to Mr. T.R. Apo as a comment to my last blog post. Richard is now based in the US with his beautiful wife.)
Dear Mr. T.R. Apo,
Thank you for your letter and for your candid revelation of who and what you truly are. Prior to you being elected, I am familiar with your background and already have a conjecture of what the city would be like under your governance; more of the same old crap. When I shake your hand at the rallies or on your campaign trail, it is not a confirmation that you have my vote but more of a feeling that I have shaken the hand of a distinguished man/woman; or so I think. And when I see your face in the TV or in the newspaper, I can brag to my friends and acquaintances that I got the chance to shook your hand at one point.
We are sick of your broken promises and I know you could not care less; otherwise you would have been mindful of our request to fix our broken roads..for the last ___ years! Your complete disregard probably what prompted you to stop coming to our fiesta celebration so as not to ruin your shiny SUV by driving through potholes.
(Imagine a guilt-stricken trapo writing this letter.)
Dear Voter,
I write this letter in order to plead with you not to vote for me. I am a hollow sham, a great pretender. When I firmly shake your hand, smile at you, and look you straight in the eye, do not feel elated like a hapless showbiz fanatic for I will forget you as fast as my eyes shift its gaze unto the next person.
Know that this is an ordeal for me. Truth is – I can’t bear the smell of your breath, and of your fetid body reeking with perspiration evident of a day’s cheap labor and unforgiving summer heat. Deep beneath my seemingly genuine smile is that burning need to go back to my SUV and drench my hands with rubbing alcohol.
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If I have 50 million pesos…I will run for mayor in my hometown. (Having said that, it means I have a ghost of a chance of running.)
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