Time was, rainy days induced introspection and romance. Not today, however. Romance and the rain? Leave that to K-drama.
Today, when it rains and automatically floods, your thoughts inevitably turn very bad, if not homicidal.
As in:
…. Imagine all those designer bags being swept by the floods down to the sewer, monogram by monogram—along with the trapo/contractor wives/mistresses who own them, and with the flood control contractors/politicians, who can’t be satisfied with tens of millions of pesos in kickbacks but just have to have hundreds of millions and billions. What the cost of one luxury bag or SUV could have done with a drainage construction here and there. If they can’t be in prison (and they can’t), the sewers should be a more feasible destination.
…. Imagine all the wang-wang vehicles and their “hawi” motorcycle escorts being stuck glued to Slex or Skyway, like a freeze-frame on K-drama for indeterminate time.
…. Imagine the Impeachment court jesters stranded. Or Robin stranded in the floods for two terms, at the very least.
Feel free to add your own list. Sadistic thoughts become morbidly therapeutic when you imagine how funds pocketed or stashed in suitcases could have solved for good the insufferable flooding that Filipinos have endured for generations. They remain in a country with no adequate mass transit system, no subway network, where road asphalt melts in the rain. Yet it is a country whose few sleazeball families own what must be among the fattest hidden bank accounts and estates in the world. Imagine corruption as bad karma.—Thelma San Juan
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