Six years ago, yellow ruled the world. Like I said, things seem really different now. Reblogged from 2010. Original here.
Another long weekend to enjoy. It’s supposed to be a weekend with a purpose – the working class have all been (very kindly) given one day off to decide who will lead our country and occupy upper echelons of the republic for the next few years.
And, I’m not voting.
Upon hearing this, my good friend and colleague Charity B. summarily stripped me of every right to complain. “You’re not voting? Then don’t complain about anything in the government.” She’s from Manila. Everyone in that city complains.
I’m not voting because I’m not registered in La Sugbu. I’ll have to go back home to Dumaguete, which I am doing this weekend anyway. I am also out of cashola. Also – I trust no one.
Voting represents hope, and suspension of disbelief. Since I have no faith in the integrity of anyone who is shameless enough to pay for airtime, dance around with random strangers, plug his face all over the city, radio and cyberspace, all for a spot as the top official, then I don’t believe in suspending my disbelief.
I feel used. My taxes go into their pockets. My money fuels their lavish lifestyle. We listen to a litany of promises, platforms, rip-offs from the Obama campaign of change. Nothing is original. Everyone gladhands, smiles, makes promises that won’t be kept. We are a nation that is never satisfied. Something is always going to go wrong, and we wait to pounce on weakness. I’m tired of the merry go round. We were happy with the dame in yellow who passed away (and effectively elevated her ugly son to savior status since he can “carry on”) but really, she didn’t do jack. Couldn’t even control her famewhoring youngest daughter. Whatever happens, I hope these people never win. I’d rather see the smart pilot be president.
Not voting is the one day I can actually say I’m not being used.