Truth with a slant

I AM A prankster.

I love my position as the premier agent provocateur of Iloilo.

And the whole Western Visayas.

I live to stir the pot.

Rock the boat.

Shake the world.

Challenge you.

*

But once you get past the idea that I exist to turn the world upside down, you’ll probably love me.

Because I bring those childlike qualities of wonder, play, and imagination in the world.

There is a palpable fun in my writings.

There is no meanness in my playfulness.

Unless you take me very seriously.

Which, of course, makes you a psycho.

*

I do not take myself so seriously.

I am a happy camper.

I love making fun of myself.

And the world.

And in a sense, of other people.

Especially stupid people.

They are most fun.

*

I am aware that there are people who can’t stand me.

I know because the feeling is mutual.

Or, at least, I am familiar with such feelings as loathing.

I don’t like all people.

I try to be good. Honest!

I try to love all people, but I’m just human.

As a celebrity, I try to be better than most.

I really do.

I mean, I try.

*

But there are those who can’t stand my celebrity.

And I can’t stand them who can’t stand me!

Common sense: I love those who love me.

Christian sense: I try to love those who hate me.

Reality: I can’t stand those who can’t stand me.

But here’s the truth: I don’t hate people until they hurt me.

And I authorize you to hate me if I hurt you.

*

It’s one thing to ignore, or reject, me.

It’s pure evil to do me harm.

Because I don’t harm anybody.

I do not consciously, or purposely, hurt anyone.

Sure, I tell you that you look like a cow.

But I mean it with love, and concern for your well-being.

I mean, other than poetry, there must be some truth when I call you “an elephant”.

*

I mean, sweetheart, if I call you an elephant, go watch your weight.

Or, at least, wear a shirt that alerts people: “I have a body size disorder!”

Dearie, I do not want the world to bully you.

So, I’ll bully you first as a wakeup call.

Or, until you tell me you cannot control your growth hormones.

Then, I will defend you, and protect you, from all the bullies in the world.

*

Here’s another thought: It’s okay to be stupid.

Just let me know why you hate me so much.

I can understand why some people are not smart like me.

But you are just plain retarded if you hate me for no reason.

You hate my guts, you say.

There’s a cure for that:

Go ef yourself!

*

Recently, I met some veteran media practitioners in Iloilo City.

And how they love me!

I don’t care if they’ll deny it.

But I really felt their love and affection on the afternoon we met.

We talked about the old times.

I even talked to my former newspaper editor.

He said: “For 18 years, Peter has been writing about himself in the newspaper. And he has not exhausted his celebrity yet. That’s how we know he lives a most interesting life.”

*

Another newspaper veteran and political image maker said: “Peter is so unique because he writes what we, ourselves, want to say about ourselves, but couldn’t.”

She means that sometimes, she would like to be described as “great, smart, and wonderful”, too.

But even her politician clients, whose careers she saved, and whose scandals she cleans up, don’t call her that.

And it’s true: I write about myself, and often describe how brilliant I am.

Because if I wait for others to call me brilliant, I’ll probably die a frustrated and broken-hearted man.

*

I enjoy a certain status among the Ilonggo journalists.

Because newspaper writing not my bread and butter.

I am also not indebted, or subservient, to any politician.

The Ilonggo media practitioners also recognize my truthfulness and integrity.

They know I do not lie.

They know I do not take bribes.

However fantastic my stories are, they know I tell the truth.

Or, at least, the germ of it.

They probably think I exaggerate most of the time.

(And they love me for it.)

But I do not lie.

(And they love me more for it.)

*

How exactly do I tell the truth with a slant?

William farted in a party.

I start with a truth like that. That fact.

I make sure that Rudy can verify that William farted.

And then, I say, “William farted ‘so bad’ at the party, ‘that maybe’, even the mayor, who was across the table from him smelled it. You can ask Rudy. He can verify that William farted in that party.”

So yeah, I invented “so bad” and “maybe the mayor smelled it”, but it is so much fun to tell.

Stupid is s/he who will quote me on that.

And spread the rumors.

*

The elements are there: William farted. There was a party. William was seen with the governor.

Ask me again in ten years, I’ll stick to my story:

William farted “so bad” that “maybe” the mayor smelled it.

And we would still be laughing our asses off.

I didn’t tell a lie.

I told the truth.

Dramatized. Because I’m a dramatic writer.

And “maybe” becomes a wonderful word.

Sue me! (500tinaga@gmail.com/PN)

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here