Let’s start with a prayer for healing and protection: “Dear Father, I bow before You, just as I am now. I surrender my entire being before You my God. I accept You as my Shepherd, Savior, and Healer. Heavenly Father, please take charge of my life and affairs. Please heal me fill me with Your healing power. Cast out all that should not reside within me. Amen.”
Shout out to our brave insan, Atty. Thorsson “Thor” Montes Keith. Keep up the good fight against corruption. The truth will come out in the end. Our prayers are with you, brother. Hindi ka nag-iisa. Cheers!
This week’s column takes its cue from Mayor Benjamin Magalong’s recent advisory regarding the unauthorized use of personal information on info slips/logbooks aside from contact tracing purposes. “We have been receiving complaints on unauthorized use of personal information written on info slips and logbooks to advance personal agenda, such as religious preaching or business networking.
The public is reminded that personal information on logbooks of establishments and public transportation are covered by the Data Privacy Act and should only be used for contact tracing of coronavirus disease patients. We encourage the public to report violations of Data Privacy to our Covid-19 hotlines: 442-1900, 442-1905, 661-1455, 0927-628-0498, 0999-678-4335. Let us not take advantage of the pandemic to advance personal gains. Let us beat Covid-19 through cooperation and respect of privacy.”
This writer couldn’t agree more. Cooperation and respect of privacy is needed, especially now. Those caught taking advantage of the pandemic for personal gain should be punished. We all have a common invisible enemy in Covid-19. Let’s beat it by showing a united front, as much as we possibly can.
Here’s “The Trash Men” by Charles Bukowski: “Here they come/ these guys/ grey truck/ radio playing/ they are in a hurry/ it’s quite exciting:/ shirt open/ bellies hanging out/ they run out the trash bins/ roll them out to the fork lift/ and then the truck grinds it upward/ with far too much sound . . ./they had to fill out application forms/ to get these jobs/ they are paying for homes and/ drive late model cars/ they get drunk on Saturday night/ now in the Los Angeles sunshine/ they run back and forth with their trash bins/ all that trash goes somewhere/ and they shout to each other/ then they are all up in the truck/ driving west toward the sea/ none of them know/ that I am alive.”
