And with the sending of reminders for the next day’s coverage via email and Viber last night, I bid this 1-10 p.m. hell goodbye — at least for the moment, or until my night-shift partner takes another long vacation, which I hope won’t happen anytime soon. To say that it’s been an exhausting, mentally draining eight days is an understatement. A lot of things have happened since Monday last week. Kerwin Espinosa the suspected drug lord was repatriated from Abu Dhabi, Ronnie Dayan the alleged bagman was arrested in La Union, and I fell in love with a young anti-Marcos protester.
Of course there was that surprise heroes’ burial for the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos, which has treachery written all over it, and which sparked lightning rallies across Metro Manila last Friday. And then there were the usual verbal diarrhea from Rodrigo Duterte and his numero uno cheerleader Mocha Uson.
Add to that the fact that two ranking BOC and BIR officials were gunned down in less than a week, and that singer-comedian Blakdyak was found dead inside his apartment with a fucking plastic bag wrapped around his head. And oh, Sen. Leila de Lima also admitted having an affair with Dayan, her former driver-bodyguard, with Dayan saying days later that their relationship lasted for seven years — longer than the average marriage of many celebrity couples. Whoa!
And yesterday, Espinosa faced the Senate for a hearing that lasted from morning to early evening, and which left me too exhausted to nail this shit last night.
Playlist: Anthrax – Live: The Island Years; Alice Cooper – Hey Stoopid