A charter lesson for 13-year-old boys: Part II

(online readers, click here for background)

Things were complicated then, but nothing compared to now. Our youngster listened to Thaksin Shinawatra's latest phone-in, and it up-ended his presumed knowledge about Thai constitutions.

Readers be warned: Although the following conversation takes place between a man and his son, it touches upon some sensitive, borderline subjects, so, to be on the safe side, keep this article away from your children:

Son: You told me Thaksin virtually destroyed the 1997 Constitution. I don't get it, Dad. Last week, he went on and on about how great it was and why we should get that charter back.

Dad: Honestly, I don't get it ether, kiddo. The 1997 charter practically said you can't be prime minister and businessman at the same time, a rule that Thaksin mocked all the way to the bank. Thaksin wanting that Constitution back is like you agreeing to disavow PlayStation for good.

Son: Maybe he no longer needs PlayStation. Is it possible that he wants to go to university now, metaphorically speaking? People can change.

Dad: But some things never change. He simply may want to be seen as wanting to go to university. It's like you telling me and Mum you want to study hard and will no longer play computer games. In the same breath, you ask for an increased allowance and, behind our backs, use the money to buy drugs.

Son: That's a harsh analogy, Dad. Give the poor guy a break.

Dad: Sure. Okay, let's say he ditches PlayStation for university because PlayStation won't help him get girls, but the university will.

Son: Okay. I get it. Right thing for the wrong reason. Now tell me about the Democrats, Dad.

Dad: They are now in power. That's equivalent to getting the girls. So, they don't need university that much. Remember this, son: At any given time, only the opposition will want a constitutional change. As for the government, why would someone change the circumstances that enabled him to get laid to begin with?

Son: Bhum Jai Thai is in the government and they are itching to amend the charter. Why?

Dad: You will know the answer four years from now, especially if your friends always get the prettier girls. Bhum Jai Thai is like the guy riding along with the owner of a super-cool convertible. This guy won't necessarily get any of the girls who hop in.

Son: They get the NGV bus. Are you saying the project isn't like a sexy lady?

Dad: All I'm saying is, it can get much sexier than that.

Son: Cool. Now where do we put Pheu Thai in this scenario?

Dad: If Thaksin wants to go back to university so he can, well, get the girls again, Pheu Thai, I hate to say it, is someone doing the test on his behalf. As for the red shirts, I have a soft spot for them, but they are only partisan spectators cheering Thaksin on.

Son: What about the yellow shirts? Wait, let me guess: They think Thaksin has got too many girls already.

Dad: You are spot on.

Son: Man, is this all about getting the girls? You mean nobody wants to go to university to learn?

Dad: You know what, kid. Come to think of it, this analogy isn't that far from reality. We love to think of the Constitution as the embodiment of our common values, but a lot of folks out there are treating the charter as something that exclusively determines who gets the power. It's always going to be a debate about whether amendments are anti-Thaksin, or pro-Democrat, and so on. Once you get the power, what do you want next? Of course, the girls.

Son: Do you seriously want me to put that in my homework? The Constitution is something ideal which, however, is to be used as a tool to get under a girl's skirt?

Dad: You asked for my help.

Son: It's the highest law of the land, Dad. You always told me that yourself. Doesn't it deserve a little of our respect?

Dad: Trust me on this, and this is the most important thing I want to tell you: If the 1997 Constitution, said to be our best charter in modern history, received half the respect it deserved, we wouldn't be having this conversation.