TRAGIC BEYOND TOOTHACHE

FORGET mythology; getting oneself caught between the devil and the deep
blue sea is not the worst quandary. Try groaning between a deadline and a
toothache-which I desperately hope to surmount after the end of this
self-indulgent sentence-and you'd agree these are no less monstrous than
Scylla and Charybdis.

Of course, myth-alluding idioms would sound redundant and artificial in the
face of deeper dilemmas fished from what we call "current events." Even if
we'd merely skim the surface of these stories-the mystery and the black
comedy rearing from the warehouse in Umapad, for instance-who says it
couldn't slap us with the force of the devil's pitchfork cracking a root
canal? About the enormity of the problem on prohibited drugs, where is the
man not hooked on it who can grin and bear it?

Talk about timing. Just as I was set to swallow a capsule of Mefenamic Acid
to overcome a devilish tooth, this piece of news caught my tongue clucking
in concurrence: "Pain relief a human right."

On the occasion of the first-ever Global Day Against Pain last Monday, a
leading medical authority stressed that treatment to alleviate pain-whether
cancer or Aids-is a human right. Of "distressing conditions," isn't the
menace unleashed by shabu just as vicious a pain in the neck? If so,
wouldn't it be a relief to slay the source of it.

Regarding the recent spate of shooting where suspected shabu pushers fell
dead, those groaning at its social cost might reason what the executioners
did was no less a welcome coup de grace than extracting a decayed tooth.
The most recent victim, a 67-year-old man in Bulacao, is reportedly the
fourth suspected pusher killed since Sept. 28, when an alleged big-time
drug pusher was ambushed along with his live-in partner along Echavez St.

If it holds water that the deaths were the handiwork of an anti-crime
vigilante group, instead of some not-so-innocent personalities who stand to
gain with the deaths of the suspects-then the anti-drug advocates would
have their work handed over to them on a lighter platter. If that's the
case, they'd smile at the confession of the irrepressible Clarence Darrow
who, talking about his pet peeves, snorted: "I never wanted to see anybody
die, but there are a few obituary notices I have read with pleasure."

What the Germans call schadenfreude or "delight in another person's
misfortune," is not entirely alien where vengeance against formidable
forces of destruction take on a tooth-for-a-tooth equation.

Grim, yes. Then again, grin and bear it.