Who will be the next Governor?

It’s a question I’ve been riddled with by pundits and aspirants, including umpteen number of unlicensed social scientists who know everything after one beer too many.

It’s an interesting query and the varied though baseless assessments given have equally been amusing too. Already, smoke signals have been released into the whippy trade winds of politics. But we can’t read what they convey in that they instantly evaporate like morning dew when the morning sun descends from the eastern skies.

Just to think through all the wild assertions of who would make it to the victory circle in the most coveted political chair, I’d sit along the shore at early dawn to let the salty breeze moving in from the Philippine seas ease my mind. I’d listen to the tiny waves crashing against the shore deliver subtle messages only I can interpret. Up above, the Marianas Dove heads out to sea with a commanding view of everything below him until he disappears against white clouds in the distant horizon.

I see faces, some faintly confident, uncertain, timid, morbid, blind, wishful, blank, hungry, puzzle, prominent, arrogant, tired, nervous and quizzical. I took them on a mental quiz just so I could listen to their voices, probe their expressions, grasp of substantive issues, intellect, conviction, integrity, depth, shallowness and hollowness. Only a few passed the quick journey into quizzes on issues of substance. Most grope for words only to fumble, royally and sadly, too.

Frankly, there are quite a few whom I wish to extend my advance condolences and encourage them to begin looking for a new profession starting today. Others deserve a definite trip into Reality Check so they come to terms with themselves in that they just didn’t know why run other than blind ambition. Still the very few others deserve letting the governance decide their fate. If you will, nothing in this race is certain except uncertainty. Things have changed so dramatically in recent years and it’s awfully difficult fooling the electorate by regurgitating tired old messages.

Confused? No worries! Like a scattered puzzle, a master political architect should be able to reconstruct our mystery piece. For now, how I wish I could join the Marianas Dove on his trip out into the open waters so I too could relish the majestic view from the blue skies of paradise. Sorry, I wasn’t about to answer my own query and perhaps it’s as good a time to begin assessing who’d be the next titular head of these isles.

Preliminaries among prospects

Definitely, pundits from the triad (republicans, democrats and, well, reform) all have their views of who will eventually survive the test and demands from the often neglected aspirations of the voters.

Voters too aren’t necessarily absolved from the responsibility of choosing their titular head. It’s no longer a filial thing but that of clearing the debris-filled road of filial patronage to make way for a new era in Marianas leadership.

Hierarchichal burn-out?

Then there’s the issue of political command being cyclical. In other words, it changes hands after a decade when one’s message of relevancy fizzles out. In the process, we lose our marbles to the opposition for they have aptly composed or improvised a new melody that fits the political pitch at the grassroots level.

It all boils down to integrity and matters of the stomach and how well a candidate answers and articulates to followers a simple query: “Where are you taking us from here, sir?” For now, only two of the promising prospects are capable of answering this query. Sadly, the perceived front runners don’t figure in this query.
Yeah?