Jack The Scribbler

Yes: you, me, everybody, including Vetellano Acosta, Koala Bear, and Juana Change.

Throw in the whole caboodle of lunatics and psychos out there who grabbed the limelight, talked their heads off, wasted our time, wore out our patience, and dissipated whatever remains of our charity, Christian, secular, or otherwise — Jamby Madrigal, Bayani Fernando, and Anna Susano. These three losers also deserve a free round from Noynoy.

And let’s not forget the two other less-celebrated, brain-dead subhumans who provided some semblance of amusement: The Smartmatic technician who stored 60 automated voting machines in his house in Antipolo City and the backhoe operator who forgot to fill up his vehicle with enough gas, inadvertently introducing the rest of the world to the much-vaunted Ampatuan family temperament.

These two geniuses are also entitled to a cold one.

And it’s not just because Noynoy won the elections, which, in itself, is a good enough reason to celebrate, roll out the barrel, celebrate Oktoberfest in June, complete with Brazilian bikini babes.

It’s just that from the looks of it, a Noynoy presidency doesn’t look too promising.

A week or two before his proclamation, important people close to the President-elect have said that uncle Eduardo “Danding” Cojuangco Jr. — a known Marcos crony — have supported his bid to run for the country’s top position.

What’s the trade-off?

Easy guess: a substantial stake in San Miguel Corp., that’s what.

Twenty-four percent of what reportedly is Southeast Asia’s largest food company is being claimed by coconut farmers.

Worth some P24 billion (SMC closed at P70.50 apiece on Wednesday), the stake was bought using the coconut levy fund, which was collected from farmers in during martial law. The fund was administered by the Philippine Coconut Authority (PCA), which was then headed by Cojuangco.

Cojuangco reportedly used these funds to acquire the stake and claimed it as his own. (Using the same funds, he reportedly bought a separate 20 percent stake in SMC which he directly owns. But that’s another story and another case.)

In May 2004, the Sandiganbayan — the Philippines’ anti-graft court — has ruled that the funds are public.

But so far, authorities have yet to issue an order to return the shares to their rightful owners. Not that that would have any use right now.

In 2009, San Miguel Corp. management — led no less by Cojuangco — voted to have the 24 percent stake converted to preferred shares.

The move will earn its owners — the coconut farmers (not that they actually reaped benefits of ownership) — higher dividend payouts.

But the conversion of common shares to preferred will make farmers lose their claim on the company after a few years. The shares will be transformed into Treasury shares and will revert to San Miguel.

Meanwhile, from the get-go, our future man in Malacanang appeared to have been unable to give a categorical response regarding the matter.

And now that he’ll be president in a couple of days, what do you think he’ll do, given Uncle Danding’s support?

Another easy guess: Nothing drastic to upset an old, lovable uncle.

After all, the old geezer has had enough humiliation already.

When Danding was studying in the US, he reportedly worked as a gasoline attendant, according to Boss, an unauthorized biography written by Earl Parreño.

During this time, Noynoy’s mother, Cory, also a student, was doing volunteer work in the East Coast.

But, in any case, since I voted for Noynoy, I’ll give him a chance.

If he wants to get on the good side of his uncle, sure.

But not before I get that beer.

See you at the street party.

———————

Picture from my GMANews.TV Oktoberfest blog, when I attended the 2009 launch of the event.

Very few remain aware of the Thursday Institute for Transformative Ideas, a small group of self-proclaimed experts, many of whom prefer to drink in Quezon City,  because its members live there.

Like most Filipinos, members of the Thursday Institute—overworked males with few useful skills such as myself—offer solutions to the country’s urgent problems without being asked. The enthusiasm with which they propose ideas are usually proportional to the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed so far.

Which is to say that the idea being discussed gets crazier with every gulp of beer (i.e., capital punishment for traffic violators, a proposal seriously considered on the fifth round of drinks.)

Perhaps the most hotly-debated topic in recent memory involved public transportation, a favorite subject next to Maureen Larrazabal and plasma TVs.

The group recently discussed the pros and cons of putting up a bus rapid transit system along EDSA, the country’s main thoroughfare.

Establishing a segregated—and possibly even elevated—lane along EDSA to be serviced by an extended bus would do wonders for commuters. It was exactly the same system implemented in Bogotá, Colombia, one member said, with the conviction of someone who has never been to South America.

The concept was later lost in the haze of idle chatter and inebriation. After all, they knew very little about what they were talking about.

But then again, ignorance never got in the way of their enjoyment.

This explains why every Thursday, the institute named after the fourth working day of the week has kept on meeting at the same watering hole for the past three years.

Stormy weather, political instability, and professional responsibility has not diminished their commitment to drink, pontificate, and indulge in one-upmanship in the establishment that has become their second home.

Thanks to their regular patronage, the watering hole—located along Maginhawa St. in UP Village—has informally named a dish in the group’s honor.

Dubbed the Thursday special, the dish consists of tenderloin tips fried with garlic and served on a hot plate. It is so tasty that you can have it any day of the week.

Unfortunately, for the past few weeks, the institute’s weekly meetings have been postponed indefinitely.

The establishment that has hosted the group’s meetings has been shuttered by the Quezon City local government, citing what appear to be reasons of very little consequence.

A few months earlier, when the establishment encountered difficulty in securing a liquor license, no one took it seriously. The restaurant’s patrons—both sober and otherwise—thought it was just a wrinkle easily ironed out by a combination of charm and chutzpah.

They were wrong.

In September, the establishment—together with a row of three similar restaurants beside it—was served with a closure order.

To this day, the order remains in effect.

Besides depriving its owners of a fair return on their investment, the order also substantially reduces our chances of getting cold beers, a nice table, and tasty pulutan during Thursday nights, an injustice any way you look at it.