“You’re very thorough.”
“Have to be. He’s got a duodenal ulcer and there’s a danger of high blood pressure when he’s older; otherwise he’s in fine shape.”
“What do you want me to do first?”
He became serious. “A pamphlet. You might make a highbrow magazine article out of it for the Readers’ Digest or something first. We’ll want a clear, simple statement of the Cavite philosophy.”
“Why don’t you get him to write it?”
“I’ve tried. He says he can’t write anything. In fact he even hates to have his sermons taken down by a recorder. God knows why. But, in a way, it’s all to the good because it means we can get all the talent we like to do the writing for us and that way, sooner or later, we can appeal to just about everybody.”
“Whom am I supposed to appeal to in this first pamphlet?”
“The ordinary person, but make it as foolproof as you can; leave plenty of doors open so you can get out fast in case we switch the party line along the way.”
I laughed. “You’re extraordinarily cynical.”
“Just practical. I had to learn everything the hard way. I was kicked around by some mighty expert kickers in my day.”