Rafael L. Oriel, Jr.
5 Jan 2008

 

 

Bagong taon na naman pero mukhang marami pa rin ang hindi nagbabago.

Well, Mr. Pontaoe, you really started the New Year in Punch Forum with a bang all right as if trying to tell the whole world, “Let us be mean, my friends. Real mean.” You sound like the firecracker explosion in Bocaue, Bulacan last Monday morning.

Whatever your problem or problems against the world, you should keep it to yourself because we can hear you loud and clear. Your tone is definitely not in harmony with the man who started the SUNDAY PUNCH, Mr. Ermin E. Garcia Sr. Thanks to the Lord our God, his silence speaks louder and clearer than you do when he said, “Let us be men, my friends. Real men.”

Mr. Pontaoe, perhaps, while you are making that long and solitary walk along the shores of Lake Michigan, I was having a second look at Karina and Ermin by Arsenio C Jesena S. J., a story about the man who started the SUNDAY PUNCH. Just like you, I also came to the decision. In starting the New Year in Punch Forum, I would rather follow his words instead of yours. I strongly believe that in his silence, he speaks to all of us. All of us must listen to his words again and again, in case we had forgotten them. They are constant reminder to all of us not to let his bloody death be all in vain.

“Life is short. Do not waste it in selfish mediocrity. Look around and compassionate with your fellowmen who are helplessly deceived and abused by the avarice and the greed of those who are selfish.”

I have fought the good fight. I have won the race,—but the battle is not over. Each one of you must carry on the fight, or else my cruel death is all in vain.”

“Three bullets from men of evil ended my life. Let three ideals for men of honor now allow my spirit, my cause, and my crusade to live on in the heart and the life of those who call me their friend.

“A life worthy of a real man is a life of intense love, of sterling trust, of divine faith.

“Intense love: not by word, but by the toil of your hand and the sweat of your brow. Intense love—for truth, for justice, for patriotism. Intense love—for the poor and the oppressed, and all your exploited, unchampioned fellow-Filipinos.

“Sterling trust—that once we do our very best, we have done our share in life. Sterling trust—that we are not alone; that although the forces of crime and evil are numerous and strong, more numerous and more strong are the forces of justice if only they wake up and work together and give their entire selves.

“Divine faith—that God is with us; divine faith—for as I lay bleeding and dying there with three bullet wounds in my body, my last words were the words of prayer. I believed in God and trusted in Him as I lay dying, just as I had done through all my life. For we are not, my friends, fighting our battles alone. We are fighting with God, and for God. Divine faith—belief, yes, that with the help of God we can do all things.

“Love. Trust. Faith.——three ideals for men of honor, men who would gladly live and gladly die for what they know befits them most, simply because they are men. “Let us be men, my friends. Real men.

“This is my last appeal to you. LET NOT MY BLOODY DEATH BE ALL IN VAIN. “LET NOT MY BLOODY DEATH BE ALL IN VAIN.”

 

Eduardo Pontaoe
4 Jan 2008

 

Mr. Kervie:

It is the worst of times. Worst for you getting caught between a rock and a hard place.

The ignorance . . .

When you entered the Forum you didn’t have even an iota what it looks or feel like. You’re captivated by that iridescent way on how you interpreted your beliefs.

You jumped into something you thought compatible, that the Forum is an ordinary kitchen. The Forum Mr. Kervie, is not a kitchen, but a blast furnace of the US Steel Works at Gary, Indiana.

The melt down . . .

At 2200 degrees Fahrenheit, it will dissolve everything, and like a Kraft queso de bola, you’ll liquefy not even well for a grilled cheese sandwich.

The misguided . . .

Do you really know the OFW? The Japayoke? This blatant export of the flesh to work in cultures non-compatible to the Philippines creates exploitation unimaginable. Evanescent of the slave trade of the 18th century when tribal chiefs of Africa sold the conquered . . . their own people for profit.

How can you be proud of that, Mr. Kervie?

 

Eduardo Pontaoe
4 Jan 2008

 

 

I am still here. The notion that I’m somewhere else, you can surmise I could be with Mephisto discussing things beyond the cauldron of Hades.

Well, let’s start the New Year with a bang. Would we, Mr. Oriel?

After a long and solitary walk along the shores of Lake Michigan blanketed by a fresh snowfall against the backdrop of the towering concrete giants of Chicago, I came to the decision that I couldn’t let you off the hook.

I can savor the anguish, the angst, the sinking sensibility, the insecurity, and your contorted face when you asked in disbelief why such intrusion in your domain is possible. Such encroachment is a necessity and the Trojan horse is a must, to let you know that you’re not free, that Ulysses is watching and you couldn’t do anything you deemed pleases.

And you laughed, but pray and tell what’s there to laugh about, Mr. Oriel? Your friends are not anonymous you claimed to believe, it’s the writer of the passage that’s unknown telling the world the company you kept.

Aaaaah! Your friends, they should look straight in your face because of you they became collateral damage . . . innocent victims of controversy.

However, I didn’t make a mistake. I can see it very clearly deep in its meaning that FBP is for Filipinos for Bankrupt Philippines. This FBP is an acronym of something sinister.

You know what let me explain. If there are 1.3 million Over Fatigued Workers and 3000 leaving everyday according to the POEA (Philippine Overseas Employees Administration) which also overcharged them of registration fee, why in Mephisto’s name only a few . . . a grain of sand in the Sahara . . . volunteered to contribute with the FBP Season of Hope 2007?

So far, there are 26 who pledged or contributed and one Charlie Jamero cancelled. I think he smelled a rat. Right now, everybody at FBP are restive . . . running around like headless chickens.