Dissenting View By Patrick Jay Pangilinan » Mocha and other drugs
Many people express the sentiment that the so-called maintenance medicine seem to be a cross that has to be borne by whomsoever had that life altering experience of having a physician scribble a host of 'til-death-do-us-part drugs into a prescription pad and point them towards the appropriate pharmacy.
Such sentiment is not entirely misplaced given the prices of many pharmaceutical products, which, public knowledge have taught us, are driven by, inter alia, advertising, bureaucratic red tape, and more nebulous person-to-person transactions that would be best left in the periphery, lest we invite the ire of the persons basking in those nebulous affairs.
The point in this, though, is that maintenance medicine is indeed a cross to bear for those who take them, but have these burdened people thought about the sedentary lifestyle and the grease-laden food they have also "maintained" before? Add to that the tobacco smokers, modern day vapers and liquor guzzlers, who, upon being diagnosed with or pinned down by a debilitating illness, whine about the cost of medication. Have they even bothered to think about all the nicotine, tar, and alcohol they happily ingested before they ended up with a list of maintenance medicine?
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In other news, mocha seems to be a favorite beverage among restaurant customers and the drink of choice for coffee shop patrons nowadays. Some indulge in its bittersweetness in a literal level, be that hot or iced. Some, however, have chosen to chew on the Mocha that has arguably become an easy object of many anti government sentiments.
There is no quarrel in the fact that the woman have had her share of gaffes. As a journalist and educator, I could only cringe whenever her well-intentioned launches, for some reason or another, eventually became duds. But conscious students of history, journalism, even religion, would be worth their proverbial salt if they would notice that even the most prolific and/or respected figures in governance or public affairs have had their moments of "Ooops…my bad." Take Nixon. Or the sleep-deprived writers of most newspapers, who every now and then trigger an erratum. Or the occasional religious leaders who were caught literally with their pants down.
At the end of the day, it boils down to forgiveness and the capacity to extend second, third or nth chances. Or as millenials would have it, "Kaon ka molo. Molo-move on man."
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It is now February, the denominated love month. Love: that potent emotion that grips the human body with doses of oxytoxin, pheromones, testosterone and a myriad other hormones that would be best left to the discretion and expertise of your favorite science teacher.
Beware celebrants of this commercially-exploited twenty-eight days. Love is best cherished, celebrated, and shared with or without the overpriced roses, chocolates, and dinners, through each and all of the three hundred and sixty five days and nights every year that we have with our respective families and special someones.*