SKIRMISHER

 I was warned not to foment hatred in this blog, but this is ridiculous already –ridiculous is even a friendly word for these murderers of our sacred seas. No puedo más. This is too much. This is worse than the Semirara accident. It’s far worse than a war crime. As equally worse as Bush taking a dump in some crap throne in a fetid Middle East hotel.

Shit, I’m referring to these greedy assholes who stupidly had an accident at the wrong place. The oil spill should have just occurred in the moss-tinged swimming pools and piss-scented bathtubs of these heartless oil tycoons’ washed-up old wives.

Reports say that it might take around three years to clean up the Philippines’ most ghastly oil spill in history that took place in the Visayan seas a few days ago. But with little help from foreign countries who have the most modern equipment available to meet this kind of pandemonium, I think three years is a sorry estimate. So in the meantime, the coastline residents of Isla de Guimarás unite to fight this new evil, using improvised tools such as bamboo poles with floaters, cogon, coconut husks, and rice straw to check the spreading oil.

Imagine Homer’s Hector, with sword in hand, battling those pesky mechanical squids in The Matrix Revolutions — all by himself.

Just last week, the children of Guimarás, as well as the neighboring islands, were happily frolicking and running by the pleasant, blessed shores, unmindful of the beauty surrounding them. But the elders know the intercourse between their children and nature — it is evident in their children’s laughter and carefree lives.

There is something hidden in the subconscious of a human being that yearns to embrace with what is physically natural. I have felt it several times, up in the mountains, by the seashore, in a grassy field.

But on Saturday, the residents found their seas calling for help. Death opens up to them, the grief begins…

I hate to think about this, but when my kids grow up, I might end up showing the beautiful scenery of the Visayan seas and islands only in nostalgic pictures and postcards. By then, the vandalized Visayan seas, as well as nearby bodies of open water, would be a new dumpsite, a new Río de Pásig, for salvage victims of criminal gangs and the Arroyo Empire.

An accident is an accident, so they say. Nobody ever wanted it to happen. OK. But the fact remains that it STILL FUCKIN’ HAPPENED!!! AND WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOIN’ ABOUT IT?! WE’VE HAD SEVERAL OIL SPILLS IN RECENT YEARS! AREN’T THOSE PREVIOUS STUPIDITIES ENOUGH TO AVOID THIS CATASTROPHE?! AREN’T YOU THINKIN’ ‘BOUT YOUR KIDS, YOU FUCKED UP PEOPLE THERE IN PETRON?! NOW THERE’S 90% CHANCE OF YOUR AIRHEAD BRATS NOT TO EXPERIENCE THE SPIRITUAL PULCHRITUDE OF THE AFFECTED ISLANDS. BORÁCAY IS NOT THE ONLY BEACH PARADISE IN THE VISAYAS, YOU SHITHEADS SHOULD KNOW! CONFOUND YOU TO ETERNITY, YOU WRETCHED INGRATES! AFTER ALL THAT MOTHER NATURE HAS DONE TO US, THIS IS WHAT YOU GIVE HER!!! FUCKIN’ CONFOUND YOU!!! YAAAAAHHHH!

Several years ago, Apo Marcos gave us Petron as our “weapon” to the rising cost of international oil. For some time, it was a thorn in the side of oil giants Shell and Caltex. It was somehow an economic blessing for the Filipino people. But this week, now that Apo Marcos is six feet underground, Petron proved to be a curse. FUCK PETRON FOREVER!!!

(Pepe, Pepe, Pepe, easy boy, watch your language, check your BP…) What?! 

(¿Qué pasa? Cállate, chico. Todo será bueno.) Easy for you to say, uh, conscience (?), but you don’t know the rage I have inside. Have you ever communed with the spirituality of the purest selvas y playas?

(No.) Very well, shut up.

(Pero ¡cuídese! Tus palabras y sentimientos sobre este accidente son violente). I can’t help it, ese. I’m not selfish. I’m not greedy. I think beyond the grave. I care for my kids’ future. I still want them to smell the greens and the fields and the secret flowers and the salt of the sea that a very few of us have experienced or even cared for.

My flesh and blood, the earth and seas, have been harmed. I think it’s high time for those notoriously careless oil capitalists to sleep with the fishes they murdered.

Let them drink all the oil they spilled!!!

Greenpeace, y’hear? A peaceful campaign against Mother Nature’s killers is not enough. You have the ammunition, the firepower, the wherewithal, the numbers, THE DRIVE… Make a difference. Something real. Bloody BUT REAL. Chasing poachers and speaking your minds out using megaphones and the media will all be considered as a mere spectacle in the very near future. Take action. REAL ACTION. NOW. Catch my drift?

Sic’m all.

Assassinating the tyrants of the world is not a bad idea. But slitting the necks and vivisecting the stinkin’ bodies of the rapists of naturaleza is, in my utmost humble opinion, a good idea.

It’s time to blast the head of a litterbug, an illegal logger, a scientist who clones agricultural crops, etc, and then splatter their EMPTY brains in the gates of polluting factories and bribe-prone environmental bureaus. Educating one will not do anything good, so it’s better to annihilate them.

No. I am not fomenting hatred. I am encouraging bloody indignation, righteous environmental strife, satanic delight from the trees and the bees, moralistic sadism to inflict upon the whores of Mother Earth, a sweet flagellation of the culprits who spill nature’s blood to feed their greed. I am actually advocating green peace, not hatred.

Aaaaahh… I feel much better now. Have a nice day, everyone!

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