Today lovers all over the world are pondering the nameless situation in which they have found themselves. Some wonder how they've stuck around this long, others hope to stay until the next big fish comes their way. Still others seek to find a future, if there's any at all, to their festering intimacy issues.
They say marriage is just a seven-year itch. Meaning after seven years, all the romance is gone. The clock is ticking. U-oh. Significant other and I only have four years left before we can try to prove this theory wrong.
But what am I doing boring you with stories that most of you find so infinitely trivial? There are less tragic things to talk about.
Like Kris Aquino. It's her birthday today. And I still do not have a chance at getting that 4 million something pot money her game show is boasting.
Or the war in Pikit, Cotabato. Red is the order of the day, indeed. Tens of mutilated body parts and dead corpses swimming in blood.
Or that sex-hungry father who raped his daughter eleven times in a row.
Or maybe we could talk about the price of okra these days. Did you know that they sell calamansi por kilo now? Would somebody please tell me why meat and poultry are cheaper than fish? What is happening to the country? Used to be, only the poor ate fish. Now even the middle income society can't afford it.
Ah, there's a suitable topic to talk about. The state of the nation today. We ought to change the republic's name to Pilipit. Because that's exactly what we are all doing these days. Scrimping. Others make pilipit because their tummy is hapdi, or kaput. Whichever applies.
That is why we shouldn't be too happy this valentine's day. At the rate our country is going, we should start planning how to get out of here fast. And hope to really celebrate this occasion elsewhere next year. Preferrably Uranus.
NO, not the body part.
Friday 14 February 2003
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