The list

Netnet Camomot

“HE’S making a list/And checking it twice/He’s gonna find out/Who’s naughty or nice/Santa Claus is coming to town.”

Well, it’s not Santa Claus. And it’s not a Christmas list.

It’s President Rody Duterte. And it’s the Duterte drug list.

As for checking it twice, there were peeps—understandable if coming from those included in the list—who questioned the list.

But the people now occupying Malacanang say it’s an old list which the old administration allegedly ignored. Thus, there’s at least one in that list who already perished years ago. Should he now rise from the dead to defend himself?

Is the new administration obliged to update the list? In case some people in there are no longer, ahem, in the drug trade?

Yup, it’s possible for those in the list to be in another line of business by now, like illegal gambling, human trafficking, bank robbery. Kidnapping may have been claimed by another group as their expertise, and any other group attempting to join the fray should beware of rabid dogs that mark their territory with urine.

The list is the first batch. There’s a second batch. And a third batch? I don’t know. For now, Malacanang is hinting of a second batch. But why not reveal all these batches in one press conference, to prevent the escape of these alleged drug traders. Oh, the release of lists by batches could be blamed on the validation process—there’s this assurance that the first list went through several validations before the president finally read it for the madlang pehpohl to hear.

The people in the list were advised to show up within 24 hours, or else. And some of them did. Either right there in front of Philippine National Police Chief Bato dela Rosa, or through their own press conferences or statements. These are after all politicians, judges, and military bigwigs who are used to press cons and statements, which, of course, could be summarized in one word: Deny.

I gotta feeling Cagayanons heaved a deep sigh of relief upon realizing Cagayan de Oro wasn’t mentioned in the list. Yehey for CDO! But that’s only the first list. Let’s see—yes, pronounced as the Spanish term for milk—if the second and future lists will have more familiar names.

There’s this recent photo of an alleged drug trader and a Malacanang bigwig talking with each other, prompting my thought bubble to exclaim, Whaaaaat?! Doesn’t Malacanang guy know who this other guy is? Hmmm. Most probably still validating the second list, thus, the benefit of the doubt.

Life can be anper. OK, unfair. While illegal business owners are living the good life, there’s the legal business owner barely able to define what’s good in his life. Both still have to deal with government agencies, though, no one is exempted, but in two different ways, with the illegal winking and paying his way through those agencies sans paper work, and the legal also winking and paying his way through but with paper work. Who pays more, the illegal or legal? That’s the question.

One obstacle the illegal has to deal with is the hide-and-seek game he has to play with the authorities. The only office he can open is the one for the “front,” you know, the legal business he has to maintain to hide the illegal business lurking at the back. If you’ve watched too many mafia movies, you should be familiar with that by now. Fiction is indeed based on fact. With authorities catching the illegal business owner’s minions who would then tell all to save their skin, there’s now a library of firsthand accounts on how such businesses can thrive.

Yes, better indulge in a legal business, and leave that illegal business in the hands of the expert who has to sleep amidst the armed minions and weapons keeping him safe at night.

The problem with legal business is the documentation. The government has details of your business, thanks to the documents you have submitted to them, and it will now impose on you all of its rules and regulations, and that’s when you’ll shout, It’s anper! Because you’re aware of illegal businesses which are free from following those rules and regulations—hey, they don’t even pay taxes! And shabu is destroying the brains of the madlang pehpohl! Well, you can go on and on with your legal worries, and hope the president’s war on drugs will find its forever.

If you’re still thinking life is anper because you have this legal business, there’s this advice on dealing with people: Imagine them using the bathroom. Most specifically, the toilet bowl. And they won’t look so lucky anymore, eh?

Drug addicts now have to pay more for shabu. Blame it on the law of supply and demand, with the supply supposedly dwindling, thanks to the president’s war on drugs. But a drug addict is the ultimate example of the saying, If there’s a will, there’s a way. He won’t stop until he has had that shabu, no matter what it takes: stealing, risking his own life, entering the most dangerous and darkest part of a barangay. Only a good rehab program may convert him into some other addiction, such as watching paint dry, and that’s without inhaling the paint.

An addict usually finds another form of addiction once shabu is off his system. No, not waxing the floor or washing clothes the whole day—that’s possible only with shabu. He may shift to alcohol which, by the way, is more dangerous than shabu since alcohol is legal, it’s sold here, there, and everywhere. If you’re drinking the moment you wake up, and can’t stop drinking until sleep finds you 24 hours later, it’s time to suspect you’re now an alcoholic requiring a good rehab program. Don’t laugh at the shabu addict because you’re now an addict, too—to alcohol, that is. Besides, Santa is coming to town, and you want to be classified as nice, don’t you?