The PDAF (Priority Development Assistance Fund), a.k.a pork barrel, the lawmaker’s sugar mommy, is dead. No requiem, no resurrection. May it rest in peace.
Grieving are its next of kin, “JLNapoles,” “Pogi,” “Sexy,” “Tanda” and the other “boondogglers” in Congress who, for 10 years or more, voraciously indulged themselves in pork barrel buffets and hijacked—a la Mafia—tons of the people’s money meant for the needy.
Praise the whistle-blowers for talking, and the vigilant public who launched a hot pursuit for the abolition of the pork, the object of lust among members of Congress, the dream of every unscrupulous lawmaker.
Kudos is due the 14 highest magistrates of the land, who, with their lawyerly wisdom, hearkened to the voice of the people, law, truth and conscience; and who, with malice toward none, outlawed the pork and its vestiges with no chance of recurring. With nothing to loot but empty barrels, the covetous congressional aspirant won’t even think of elections as long as he lives.
Side issue: The idea that Janet Napoles may be transformed into a state’s witness is absurd and ludicrous. The state has mountains of documentary and testimonial evidence which, on their own power and strength, can easily get slam-dunk convictions sans her. Besides, Napoles and her major partners in crime are all principals by direct participation and must be judged as such—as equally most guilty that none of them can qualify as “state-mandated whistle-blower.” The proponent of the idea is known to have bitter enmity with a colleague whom she believes is the mastermind of the pork scam, and getting Napoles to talk could fetch her the sweetest revenge she is craving for. Using vendetta to settle a personal grudge by putting the state’s interest at stake is not how conflicts are resolved in civilized societies. Righting a wrong with another wrong is wrong—and is anathema, a bete noire of sorts. However, if her assertion can be proved true, and there are hints that it is, why won’t the entire nation join in casting the first stone on the “mastermind”; and let the axe fall on whom it’s meant for?
Question: Can we expect an entire ward of the V. Luna Memorial Hospital being packed with malingering senators and congressmen in the future? You bet. If the state does its homework well and fast, we might yet see all kinds of actors with all kinds of illnesses rolling in on their gold-plated wheelchairs toward a hospital they call jail. Somebody in there, today’s epitome of plunder, will be thrilled to have wardmates of her own kind—they who have a penchant for “chicharong mamoy.”
Pork adobo cooked by congressional people is yummy and my pig needs all it can get.
—MANUEL BIASON,
mannybiason@verizon.net