Just like the rest of us, I am a closeted politician. A Public Utility Vehicle royalty and stage actor at heart, yes, but adorably a scheming alligator on the sides. In 2003, I met an aspiring print model who had a lesbian lover she lavished yelling at in public. In a school contest she proudly announced her dream of becoming the Philippines’ president and while the entire Luzon region laughed their ribs off, I looked at the bitch with admiration so strong I wanted to draft her election campaign there and then—free of charge. Two years later I would hear the unnecessary news of her lesbian puppy dumping her for a convent- reject… then see the beauty tramp on FHM’s annual Girls Next Door pamphlet. The slut, I still adore her.

So enough pointlessness. Last week, amidst the disorder that is Everyone, Miss President popped into my head and made me finally accept one of my unsung dreams: becoming a lawmaker. A campaign manager for a beauty queer… err, queen, would pay real good for both my pocket and my wardrobe, but continuing on to become a political adviser for a bimbette, should she win,  sounds too Senior Citizen for yours truly. Not to mention: too cameo. I love underdogs and support roles, but what’s a demigod without a coveted throne?

But I don’t plan on changing the world by strutting as a lawmaker in hi-cut boots. I got my eye on simpler things, the basic ones abused, misused and neglected—those on which I believe our sanity and well-being ultimately rely. Yes, I am after World Peace too, but my nerves come first.

P-Act 1: I Have A Name Law (IHAN)

IHAN’s goal is to uphold every citizen’s right to a name. His or her name. While I indulge in occasional dim-lit “Psst!”s, “Hey, babe”s, butt slaps and stolen smacks, having a personal identity ranks high in my ideals. And while Thailand offers gender overhaul for over half a million Philippine pesos, at least let’s encourage everyone to respect one another’s names, granted we still own and want to be called as such. So no more “Beh”s not guaranteed by marriage certificates, or it’s the gas chambers for you.

P-Act 2: Happy Hour MRT Act

No, sorry, this still wouldn’t allow drunks into the MRT. This one is for lovers taking the MRT… the gaddamed sonuvabitches and closet whores who mistake the railways for motels, the balcony and Luneta. With the Happy Hour MRT, the public transport system will a lot more safer for the creeps who especially and strangely gets off canoodling by and blocking the ride’s doors: Before the rest of us—well, the rest of I—begin gunning down those roaches, the MRT shall allow one hour a day absolutely exclusive to the worms. They can shoot their pornfolios all they want without blocking the way. And the fare shall be 50-off. The Hour starts 3AM.

P-Act 3: The Po-lite Act

Come on. When will it end? Does everything really need to be suffixed by “po”? It’s driving me nuts! I admit having failed to assassinate the propagator of this… trend—Sarah Geronimo—and as fate would have pushed my lawmaking talents to the edge, I shall definitely turn the nation into a more eloquent and non-pretentious one. The P-LA will limit the use of “po”, “opo” and all its fucking inflections to one per 30 words; and to one per 100 words when speaking to a foreigner. It’s one of the most distinguishing elements of Philippine culture, but face it: the expression is totally abused. Stuck-up historians and hardcore culture freaks curse me to bits, I don’t care. Courtesy comes in many forms, but hiding behind syntax-messing words is so. Very. Extremely. Lame. Po-Lite going official will tell the universe not every Filipino is surnamed “Po”. Lame.

P-Act 4: Help Avi Siwa Law (HASL)

This one’s more cause-driven, yet I’m still figuring it out. I just couldn’t help emphatize with the woman each time I pass by her billboard ad for breast augmentation that reads, “This time, I got it right.” Exactly how many attempts did she and her poor twins have? HASL—BTW I’m also pondering adding an E there—will aim to protect the I’mnotexactlysurewhat rights of the women and wee-men who, like Avi, simply want to update their wardrobes with more scoop necks and at least once attend a National Plunging Slut Dress convention with a proud… front. The draft is still being polished.

Thank you for your vote.