A Night at the Comedy Bar

The lady at the gate informs me of the 9:30 showtime. I pay P300 and find a seat. A video of a live performance by
Toto plays on a white screen. Aside from mine, there are only four or five occupied tables. To pair with my beer, the
waiter suggests their chicharon bulaklak.

Then it begins.

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Two guysone is a cross-dresserbounce onto the stage singing Poker Face. After the song, warm greetings. But
here they have a different concept of warmth.

They walk to the table nearest the stage and say, Oy, ha, kanina pa kayo hindi umoorder. Umorder naman kayo
para hindi kayo nakakahiya.

Wala kayong pera, no?

Oo, baka walang pera yang mga yan. Mukha naman eh.

One of the comedians takes notice of an unusually skinny guest. Yan, o! Mukhang walang kinakain. A little later, a
comedian carries him to the stage like a slab of meat. They bombard him with questions. They force him to sing a
song. Then they spot a fat guy. They pull him to the stage. They also make him sing a song. He picks Laklak.
Afterwards, more fat jokes.

One comedian quips, Meron na tayong patpat, meron na tayong uling, he points to a dark-skinned guest. At may
baboy na. Kumpleto na.

Puwede na tayong mag-lechon!

One comedianwho sounds like Willie Revillameturns his attention to another table. He says to the guests seated,
Oy, dapat ikaw mataba ka, sa gitna ka umupo. Pag sa dulo ka kasi, para kayong barbecuenasa dulo ang taba!

The crowd roars. From out of the speakers, fake snare-drum rolls.

A little later, they pull to the stage three teenage boys. They are, as expected, barraged with insults drawn from every
possible aspect of their appearances. There are also hints of sexual solicitation. O sige, ganito na lang, said one
comedian. Pahalik na lang sa utong.

The boys father, by the way, was in the audience.

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Welcome to the world of the comedy bar, where the humor essentially depends on a sadistic miasma of insults that
involve sex organs, skin color, body weight, racial stereotypes, necrophilia, the entire assortment of bodily fluids and
diseases, penetration of various orifices, physical abnormalities, and imagined pornographic scenarios about
celebrities. And thats just the first hour.

And I thought I was mean and rude.

But at least I wasnt masochistic, like those guests who choose to sit right in front of the stage. Thats like buying a
ticket to the zoo so you can walk straight into the tigers cage.

After a barrage of insults, one of them approaches a table and borrows a bag. The other one gets a bag from another
table. They both open and examine the contents.

Ito, mukhang mayaman ito. Burberry!

Ito mahirap. Mukhang payong ang bag.

Ito, mayaman, kasi may cell phone bill. Ibig sabihin hindi nagpapa-load sa tindahan.

Ito mahirap. Kasi nagbabaon ng ketchup ng Chow King. At. ano ito? May paminta pa! Ano ito mag-aadobo?!At,
putangina: may dahon pa ng laurel. Ate, magluluto ka ba ng adobo?

The crowd goes nuts.

Hoy, huwag kang magmumurabaka may mga religious dito.

Bakit, religious din naman ako, ah!

Gaga!

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Wala nang mas religious pa kesa sa bakla.

Bakit?

Kasi nakaluhod gabi-gabiat pagkatapos, bigay ng donasyon. The comedian gestures like hes giving a blowjob.
Fake snare rolls.

Breathlessly they launch into the next gag: A Miss Universe routine.

Out comes a bald gay guy who looks like a Hare Krishna guru: hes wrapped in a long, flowing white scarf. Over
pumped-up house music, he sashays exaggeratedly to the mic. A voiceover supplies the names of countries.

VOICEOVER:
Presenting. Miss India!

The bald comic raises an armpit and pretends to fan an imaginary blast of odor reeking from it. He screams, and after
a hyperbolically sunny smile, Nagpapautang din ng payong!

VOICEOVER:
Give it up for Miss Vietnam!

Puking maligamgam pero malinamnam! UkininamVietnam!

VOICEOVER:
Miss Mongolia!

Miss Mongolia giggles a lot, has crazy eyes. His fingers contort, crab-like. Ako Budoy! Miss Mongolia, it turns, out,
is a mongoloid.

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The crowd screams.

Miss Japan. The name of Voltes V is invoked. Gusto ko maliit ang titi. Kasi maliliit ang titi ng mga Hapon.

Then our very own. Ako si Miss Philippines. I believe in the saying, Ang puking maluwagpunumpuno ng kabag.

Another song number. They spot a white guy in the crowd. Sir, are you American?

The white guy answers in the affirmative. Have you tried being kidnapped by the Abu Sayyaf? You should visit Nepa
Q-Mart. Payatas. Dakak. You know, DakakI suck!

Somewhere during the routine, the name of Mike Enriquez pops up. Ay basta huwag lang close up. Baka makita
ang blackheads.

Ano nga ba yung ine-endorse niya? Emperador? Dapat Tanduay!

Bakit?

Kasi lapadang ilong!

Eh, mas malala si Mark Logan!

Bakit? Kasi habang tinitira ka sa puwet, tumutula pa, putanginang yan!

After I decide that Ive had too much beer and chicharon bulaklak, I call it a night. It is around 12:30 and the place is
packed. It is, after all, a Friday.

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I step out. I remember one comedians friendly disclaimer: Hoy kayo ha, mga putangina niyo walang mapipikon,
ha. Pumasok kayo dito at alam niyo naman kung anong nangyayari dito, di ba? Nagbayad pa nga kayo, di ba? So
ibig sabihin alam niyokaya mga putangina niyo, walang pikon-pikon dito, mga putangina niyo.

Im outside. I can still hear them. I think about the 300 hundred pesos I paid at the door. Another song number. Call
Me Maybe. The crowd goes nuts.

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