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HONORING MY MOTHER | My confirmation bias

By Icoy San Pedro

WHEN finally, the gladiator in Netflix cried to the crowd. “Are you not entertained?”, my mind had suddenly been transported elsewhere. Had it been the curious cat, instantly Scotty-beamed to faraway Pasig, it might have been trampled to death by the thousands who saw red on the streets that evening. 

This latest scoop on social media, where shots of massive crowds once again intended to visually bolster and create subliminal headways inside voters’ heads, has, out of curiosity, brought me there. Away from ancient Rome where I was already half-asleep to Russel Crowe’s sword fights and wheat fields swaying in the wind. Alas, a mind without focus on what one is doing, is truly like a restless animal. If given the chance, it will right away bolt at the littlest opportunity. In short, I came, I saw, I left. (pinky swear)


How long has it been, six years? I can still imagine myself smack in the middle of a similar herd of cattle, clenching hoofs. Sure, back then it might have been (as others still insist on seeing it) massive hysteria, or it might’ve felt like surety in the belief that our future depended on it. At last, I can say both were true, but is it any different now? 

On my side of the fence, I still see hysteria at play. Be that as it may, an honest belief that their future depends on being true in the moment is also too overwhelming to miss. Who can’t respect that? 

However, not to make light of it all, can we also say that, every election year, the psyche is brain-washed (as in washed away) into believing that you have to “make a change” every time? Then, once the electoral exercise is over and done with, and a year has passed, everyone wakes up from this thinking and is once again woken back to being restless and dissatisfied? 

Ever since I began participating in the exercise that is the elections, I have seen an endless lineup of politicos come and go. A basketball game or a fashion show would have been better. Not to believe in the press or anyone who has written about these people’s legacies, I have tried to find out for myself whether they have indeed left indelible imprints, as in noteworthy deeds, that would have benefited us, their constituents. It is just too bad that there is just no way for us to know if the people we vote for will either be a lemon or a champion. So, it’s a Hail Mary pass every time.

In the end, am I impressed with crowd size and a blooming of flowers? I might have an answer for you in perhaps a year or two from now. Meanwhile, the spectacle is there and the production numbers are sick (while some are sickly). Are we not entertained?

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