Resources were at an all-time low. Still reeling from the recent fare-hike adjustment and the daily expense of going to work and eventually eating out, I found myself going to the ATM to extract the last possible withdrawal from my account.
“My last P500.00 until next payday,” I muttered. “It’s not so bad”, I thought. In about a week or two everything will be manageable again.
It was several days before my company’s 11th annual celebration. Everything went like most days except that we did our tasks with a bit more urgency. Just like before, I decided to go out for lunch. I noticed multitudes of police officers lining-up along EDSA. It was then that I remembered that today was: “THE ATTACK OF THE STUPID PRETENTIOUS ACTORS”.—Lady Susan had ordered her minions to converge and congest the streets to stage a demonstration of her magical powers.
Realizing the danger that awaited me, I rushed across EDSA, went into the mall to partake of a hasty luncheon. I shoveled the food into my mouth spoonful after spoonful, not stopping to savor the taste. When I was done eating, I got up and rushed back across EDSA to my place of work. What a relief to have been able to finish my lunch, beating the mindless creatures sent to wreak havoc on my schedule.
I had grown weary from the months of the same unintelligible noise of the opposition. The air was thick with their spiteful racket. Each of them blaring slanderous statements—most of which had as much factual basis as last night’s episode of the “fanta-serye” I always watch. I got back to my desk and went straight to work. I almost felt glad of the sheer volume of the things I still needed to finish. I had a newspaper print-ad to create and four photographic tarpaulin dropdowns to layout. I remember thinking that if these rallyists wanted to cripple the metro, they probably would stage their protest until very late. It was already 8:30 pm when I finished. “Surely the demonstrators would have dispersed by this time”, I thought and proceeded to board the first bus bound for Cubao. The traffic flow was still slower than usual. “Could it be that they had decided to make the event an overnight affair?” I strained to see what the matter was with the vehicular movement but the commotion wasn’t visible from my seat.
When the bus reached the People Power Monument, I noticed that it was richly decorated with expensive-looking tarpaulin banners. They were all embellished with pro-destabilization catch phrases. A handful of demonstrators boarded the bus I was riding and positioned themselves behind my seat. I reached into my bag and fumbled for my portable radio. As I placed the headphones in position and turned the switch, it was only then that I realized that I had accidentally left it running the entire day. The battery was drained and the only sounds that could be heard through the ear pieces were static hiss and a high-pitched shrill you often hear on short-wave receivers.
As I resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to hear music from my very low-tech equipment, I was able to hear the rallyists speaking rather loudly. They pretended to converse among themselves but I knew that they were trying to solicit sympathy from the other passengers. Like a bad version of a song you’d rather not hear, they started to deliver their worn-out script of perpetually complaining about fare hikes.
“Transportation fares are much too expensive nowadays.” Said one
“It’s all Gloria’s fault.” Said another
“Things were much easier when Joseph Estrada was still in office.” agreed a third one.
My patience was starting to wear thin. It was late, I was tired and the last thing I wanted to listen at that moment was a lecture from mindless zombies. In desperation, I switched-on my radio and endured the static. The entire ride to Cubao I was imagining a scenario where I had them gagged and bound to their seats while I had a running monologue pointing out why their conviction were all stupid assumptions.
For starters, nobody forced them to ride that air-conditioned bus. And although I realize that their main goal of making noise was to convey their stand on issues and exercise their right to free speech, I would’ve wanted them to get off the bus and walk to their destination. That would have been a better kind of exercise. The cardio-vascular benefits of walking will strengthen their endurance, burn-off excess fat and improve blood circulation. Blood circulation is essential in supplying much-needed oxygen to their seemingly-atrophied brains. This in turn will allow them to finally think for themselves rather than taking orders from a bunch of actors. Besides, their theatrical conversation about oil prices and fare hikes as well as blaming all of these circumstances on the president is such an old vaudeville act. What transpired in that bus was not an exercise of free speech—the right to free speech is reserved for those who have their own opinions. This privilege is not given to those who recite antiquated scripts repeatedly delivered in the same exact manner since 1973.
Why do rallyists always blame life circumstances on the government? Why is it that with each cataclysmic event in our country, whether it be natural or manmade, the person to be blamed would always be the president. I hate to disappoint all of these people who deliver such erroneous scripts but you don’t expect me to believe that President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo has a hand at controlling the price of crude oil in the world market. Believe me, she’s not as powerful as you make her out to be.
It amazes me that all of this political unrest started with a “so-called” wire-tapped recording. Don’t get me wrong, I am open to the idea that this technology is available here in the Philippines. I am even willing to listen to a scientific explanation of how a cellular phone might be tapped. Oh yes, I know that all of this “Star Wars” technology is possible. But I also know that we are dealing with the sharp accusations from a group of “award-winning” actors. Thespians who have an entire industry backing them up. This industry boasts of being at the cutting-edge of technology with the utilization of computers. Anything is possible nowadays. Film makers can resurrect dinosaurs and make them roam the streets of New York. They can place an actor on a broomstick and make him fly. If they can convince movie-goers that everything they see on the big screen is real, how much easier it must be to fool the ear.
I accept the fact that President Arroyo has expressed her apologies on the issue but just for kicks, allow me to let you in on a little secret. I am one of the 20 or more voice talents that advertisers hire to imitate the president. 20—and that’s in Metro Manila alone. I have been screened for countless radio commercials and was privileged to be approved for several that have been aired two or three years ago. Even the Philippine Information Agency has availed of my talents immediately after the “Oakwood Mutiny” to create a “Call for Unity” campaign. One cannot comprehend how active this voice imitation business is. And we’re just talking about President Arroyo’s voice.
Think about it…20 or more voice-alikes in Metro Manila. In the provinces there might be more. What if this God-given talent is not only used for shameless financial gain (like I do for radio commercials) but more frightening—irresponsibly utilized to create a mockery of the present administration.
Let me give you the options:
Sound editing on “Pro-tools” on a Mac making use of existing voice recordings—possible but complicated.
Or…
Fabrication of a voice recording—employing voice talents. Terribly easy and convenient. Why even a high school student could make a scandal with a decent microphone on his PC.
Personally speaking, it would take more than an audio recording to fool a voice talent.
