bad joke
I wrote this article for madchicken.net two years ago. Hold on tight. This one’s a jolter.
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What ruled me that night was the same thing that killed the cat.
An hour after dinner, we went straight to It not knowing how much streaks of profanity-induced laughter cost. This was Holy Wednesday so we concluded that that was the explanation for the sparse crowd, considering the buzz it has been causing the last couple of years. A mesh of black metallic chairs and tables occupied most of the front, while the back, which was elevated for the audience to see, had a bunch of less cramped seats.
Two scents registered every time I breathed in, cigarettes and newly cleaned airconditioning. And of course there was the stage, bordered by curtains on top and on the sides similar to those of Shakespearian plays. But instead of such classic plays, the performers do a new-age kind of an act: stand up comedy that ends with putang-ina mo every five minutes.
Every vulgar remark was like a razor-sharp blade stabbing my ear. The act started with a set of songs. After which, they talked about anything they can insert ulol, tanga, or putang-ina as their punch line. Their style is eclectic. They told stories and jokes, impersonated, did skits, or just plainly babbled without forgetting to say an obscene remark every now and then.
It wasn’t only the words that were obscene but so were the topic themselves. The subject of lust dominated their conversation 90 % of the time. Hence, words like libog, titi, pekpek, and chupa are said with the same nonchalance as with saying hi or hello. The only other social group where people feel at ease with such vulgarity is their barkada. Apparently, these clowns feel that the entire crowd is their barkada.
Don’t get me wrong. I found the act funny. No, let me rephrase that. It was very funny. I burst into laughter every time they said ulol, gago, or tangina mo. But it wasn’t just their vulgar words that did it, mostly it was their timing. I must admit, they are very talented apart from being very bastos.
They all sing well enough to pass as vocalists for most showbands today. And talking about talent, the one they call Anton has loads of it. Before seeing the show, I heard he sings like Regine Velasquez, with the eardrum-trembling melodic shrieking and all. And after hearing his version of the Asia’s Song Bird’s newest, a nod followed by a big clap was my reaction.
I’m not talking about the entrance fee at the gates. The cost I’m referring to is a social one. The first thing that jolted my instincts was its effect on our moral sense. Corny as it my sound but morality, we must admit, is integral to us Filipinos.
First question: Why is that when Ely Buendia hollers "’di ba tang-ina" or "ako ay nabuburat na" people find it offensive while they respond with laughter to Pretty Trizsha’s (one of the stand up comics) "tang-ina mo, ang libog mo" punch line.
A lot of those in the middle age demograph said that rock music with loutish words is bad influence, conveying subliminal messages. Hence, my second question: Doesn’t a show with ten times more vulgar words than any rock album in history exert worse influence?
Profanity in rock music may be justified because it’s a form of self expression. Song writers get vulgar to show hate, rebellion, disconformities, etc. These comedians don’t have that artistic justification. However, it’s ironic that people find the show less disturbing than Ely Buendia’s obscenity in Pare Ko, Lourd De Veyra’s chant of blasphemy in Love Ko si S…, or Johnny Rotten’s mockery of the queen of England in God Save the Queen. My guess is because they serve obscenity with a new dressing–comedy. More deceitful, more acceptable, and more effective. But probably as dangerous.
People say that for obscenity to avail of poetic justice, it must be done in good taste, which brings me to my next point. In a time when the Philippine entertainment industry employs a quality control system run by retarded businessmen pretending to be artists, an act devoid of taste is the last thing the Filipino audience need.
A brief recap: the recording artist with the best-selling album last decade was Idol ng bayan April Boy Regino, the most watched movie in last year’s Manila Film Festival was Lastic Man, and MTB, one of today’s top-rating noontime shows, invokes the mass appeal of the python to improve its rating! "Wow pare, laki nung ahas o!", yelps a manong zealously watching the televised circus act.
And now comes a show where performers don’t have taste in their vocabulary. To say that it undermines the audience’s entertainment preference, or what’s left of it, is lame. I think it drags it to the ground then beats it to non-existence. These all happen inconspicuously because it’s coated in laughter. The operative word here is subliminal.
My nightcap for Holy Wednesday was a show that had nothing to do with being holy. I watched it over a bottle of beer, and I laughed as much as I expected. I also heard as much putang-ina’s in three hours as I did during High School.
Curiosity didn’t kill me.
Although, It made me realize something. Over that place in Timog called Laffline, 125 pesos can give you three hours of saliva-splattering laughter, but the deal might come with hidden charges. So as you hit the sack and close your eyes, succumbing to the call of unconsciousness, you’re ignorant that on that night of pun and wisecracks, the biggest joke was on you. Hehe.
