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wilfrido david
wilfrido david BY NOW, retired Lt. Col. George Rabusa is as popular as Charice Pempengco. He also sings, as he only can sing a song, with his audience enraptured more by the lyrics than by the melody. Jun Lozada isn't the least impressed knowing that Rabusa isn't going to be a recording star as he himself once hoped. Both should instead learn to dance, not sing themselves hoarse. They might just find their real calling.

Rabusa deserves our admiration, if only for his gumption! He says he has found his God and that his stroke two years ago was a wake-up call! Before that, he was so much into wine, women, and gambling, with nary a worry in the world as he had inexhaustible funds at his disposal, yet completely forgetting about health and family. One regret that he probably has is in not investing abroad and not seeing the world while he had the chance. Now he is back to square one.

What he started was a forest fire that burned down tall trees along with the small and that threatened to spread even further. The firemen, personified by the Senate Blue Ribbon Committee, can only go through the motions of quelling the fire, watching helplessly until the embers die down and the smoke dissipates. Predictably, arson is the only charge they can come up with.

Gen. Angelo Reyes's tragic exit has become, necessarily, a conundrum viewed from perspectives as diverse as there are people who had worked with him, those who he shared secrets with, and the ordinary man on the street. Inescapably, the family bears the brunt of all conjectures, good or bad, leaving a cloud forever hovering over their heads.

The only positive news that came out in the media lately is the Supreme Court's decision to thrash Ombudsman Merceditas Gutierrez's petition for non-impeachment. This is enough reason to make GMA and the former FG wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Neri and Abalos should start squirming in their seats as well, and Jun Lozada should start watching for a light, however dim it might be, at the end of the tunnel. Gen. Garcia can now start thinking about extending his lease on his jail cell—at least until he gets his just rewards, a sentence that could be expanded into a full paragraph, or if he gets lucky, a hard-bound book (if you get my drift).

The military budget and its proper disposition, allegorically, is one huge cookie jar, into which the kids dip their hands to steal a cookie or two even as mother throws side-glances but lets them get away with it anyway. She is reminded of her naughtiness when she was a girl and so she gives them just a slap on the wrist as a justifiable punishment. It is the least they could expect.

Rabusa watched over the cookie jar with his eyes half-shut, letting the kids have their share of the cookies, while setting aside his own share—and everybody's happy! Nothing to worry, the jar would be replenished by mother who is busily baking some more.

Well, to make a long story short, all is not well that does not end well. The ongoing investigation is in its early stages. There is only nitpicking. The real culprits still have to be smoked out, and that's not an easy task. With all the posturing and grandstanding in the chambers and with the defiant respondents suffering from amnesia or a severe case of dementia, invoking rights equivalent to those guaranteed by the US Constitution Fifth Amendment—it's a safe bet that the observer in the gallery can plant a seed in his yard in the meantime, watch it sprout, grow into a tree and bear fruit, and that by then Rabusa would be brought in on a stretcher still answering questions, only now with a gasp and his fingers pointing in every direction. The case would still be far from over.

I am exaggerating, of course, but with the way justice is dispensed in our country I might well be proven right.

What if Rabusa didn't have a stroke, from which he didn’t have to recover and so be inspired to decide he was given a second chance by his maker—would he still have been driven by pangs of conscience to blow the whistle? That, too, would be a conundrum. We are better off not discussing it!

All I've learned from all this is that whistleblowers are conveniently emotional. They make themselves look more credible by shedding crocodile tears on cue, perhaps realizing what a mess they'd gotten themselves into that they have to get out of.


[About the author. Wilfrido David first retired as Computer-Analyst from the Ayala Group of Companies. He immigrated to the US in 1985, worked there for another 25 years in the Medical Field (Medical Lab Tech), until he retired for the second time. Sometime ago, he was involved with FAANM (Filipino-American Association of New Mexico) as correspondent-contributor-writer-editor, publisher—all rolled into one. He says about that stint, "I ran out of energy, patience, and money but kept on with my duties until the next set of association officers were voted in." The earliest writing he did was for his high school paper in Holy Angel University. His present writing derives from the perspective of a Filipino expat in the US who faithfully keeps up with what's happening in the home country, as gleaned from his Filipino channels on DirecTV, aside from CNN and HLN.]

-Posted: 8:11 AM 2/18/11 | More of this author on eK!