Although I have seen many Filipino dancers at times outdoing themselves when taking to the dance floor, the best dancing pair I ever saw was that of John Travolta and Olivia Newton John.
Both Hollywood icons starred in a box office blockbuster called “Grease.”
For a while I thought it was a movie about cars and racing, not a musical, but I guess your brains get a little off-key when you move – even against your wishes – from the world of the young to the planet of the aging.
I think the cinema hit had everything to do with Vaseline or pomade, the kind of grease that you use when you slick your hair down, back in the days of Elvis and James Dean, when Dixie Peach was grease, and not a fruit from the South during the U.S. Civil War, or in good, old Dixieland, at least before Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones came along.
But I am being gibberish.
I also remember seeing a premier Tagalog production titled “Grease Gang,” which featured gangland characters shooting it out with policemen or other rival gangs carrying grease guns in a buri bag.
But this was in the ‘60s, when people in government were clean and honest, unlike today where you need grease or grease money to get things moving.
But greasing the palm is no longer enough. You either put the money in carton boxes marked books, or delivered in attaché cases.
If the official is the greedy type, you will need a suitcase or a duffel bag.
But to the careful, transactions are done on a bank to bank arrangement, where the bribe or kickback is deposited in a dummy’s account.
The danger is that the dummy might just run away with the millions or billions, flying to Canada, or some other country where there is no extradition treaty with the Philippines.
Ask the Marcoses which Chinese billionaire claimed the money as his own, after their Ferdinand fled to Hawaii.
But one family dummy and the heirs of a deposed tyrant are still dancing and singing the same tune.
I have never seen Mayor Benjie Magalong take to the dance floor with his pretty and charming better half, or with some other girl for that matter, so I have no idea if he is as light on his feet as he is on his head with not a strand of hair.
From what I hear, it is the missus who loves to twirl and curl.
So too does KC Concepcion, one of many high-end guests invited by event host Tim Yap to his birthday party held at The Manor.
As per protocol, all were made to pay fines with loose change (for them, at least), a mere slap on the wrist.
Five days in detention would have been justice for all.
Oh, but the rich are different from you and I.
Like the military strategist that Magalong is known for, he quickly turned defeat into victory, offering to resign (irrevocably) as tracing czar, and promptly got the right response.
The country needs his expertise.
But why didn’t he resign as mayor as well, since the lapse happened in his political jurisdiction?
I am tempted to urge or challenge him to do so, but I fear more the return of the old order, a dynasty that lasted for nearly 30 years, but happily has come to an end. But he ain’t Japanese, death before dishonor.
Now, if Magalong decides to set his eyes higher, the one I will urge to run for mayor would be any of the three – Claravall, Avila, or Molintas. But they need to get their acts together.
Isa lang, with the other two throwing their strong support behind whoever wins in the toss coin.
In fact, they should have done this a long time ago. As a result, the new kid on the block won all the marbles.
The military appears to be on a rampage, running after college students.
Fly high the eagle for Ateneo, Arriba, Andale, Andale for the Green Archers of La Salle, and of course, fight UP fight.
Ang kalaban ay sila at pati na rin ang komunista.
Ipagtanggol ang mahal nating Inang Bayan, ye all who are the hope of the motherland.
Friends leaving, now Ibaloy kin.
Farewell to George Atos, a Caoili on his mother’s side.
Also, the nephew Totot or Danny Solano, whose last request was to be interned beside his late wife, and my Auntie Pacing Dimaano, shortly after celebrating her 96th birthday.
I expect to follow suit.
To be buried beside my Minda soon after my 96th birthday.
But before then, I plan to attend the funerals of old friends Erding and Rene. All bad grass, the three of us.
I bid you not, but first one last dance – and one more and one more.