Dateline: December 4, 2007, Imelda Marcos' shoe closet
I just got back from doing an MTV Asia concert featuring Vertical Horizon, Rivermaya, and Jamie Kennedy, sandwiched in between. There were nearly ten thousand people in the crowd and, for the first time in a year and a half of touring with Jamie, I was not performing. My duty for this brief engagement was simply to write jokes about Filipinos and the Filipino culture for his thirty minute spot. Also, for the first time in a year and a half of touring with Jamie, I was kind of happy not to perform. The idea of following a local band of Gypsy King- wannabe midgetinos and preceding an internationally huge band like Vertical Horizon (okay, I had never heard of them before the show) seemed daunting to say the least. Comics are NOT rock stars. Nor will they ever be, despite Dane Cook's best efforts to the contrary. I don't care how many times he sells out the Garden.
The show was at Araneta Coliseum; the same arena that hosted the legendary fight between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier in 1975 that has come to be known as the "Thrilla in Manila." The place is like the Philippines version of the Staples Center or Madison Square Garden. It gets all the big events that come through Manila. In 2008, it will host the Slasher Cup, the largest cockfighting competition in the world. The 50 foot long poster for the cockfest, I shit you not, is two roosters staring at each other (a la Ali-Frazier) with smoke billowing up between them and their angry, pointed beaks. I don't know why there is smoke in the poster or where the smoke might come from when Foghorn Leghorn finally takes on Chicken Little in a fight to the death. What I can tell you is that adding fire will only make the event more cocktastic. Take that, PETA and Michael Vick haters! Eighty eight million tropical Mexicans think you can suck a cock (there will be no shortage of dead ones when this thing is all said and done, I assure you).
At least I think they think you can suck a cock. I can't be sure, as I still don't have my finger on the pulse of the culture of these tropical mud people. Shit, I've been in Manila for a couple days now and I still haven't seen the folder or the envelope from which the city derives the bulk of its notoriety. Personally, I find the best way to get the real flavor of any foreign country I am visiting is to stay as far away from the local riff-raff as possible. That's why I'm staying at the posh Sofitel Hotel; home to ex-pats, international VIPs, and iPhone wielders. When I do mingle amongst the great unwashed, though, I make sure to do it in places that are culturally significant.
So, Jamie and I are sitting at the Mall of Asia writing bits for the show (see what I did there?) and the only jokes I can come up with have the same theme: ripping apart everything Filipino. The way they pronounced their Fs and Vs, the way they like to breakdance, the way they like to eat dog. You name it, we touched on it. We came up with about fifteen new jokes and bits specifically for the show and felt pretty confident as we were escorted by police to the stadium (someone has to clear a path through the cocksuckers and all the dead bodies.)
After watching the Filo-centric Rivermaya (no, that does not mean the band was filled with puff pastry) sing pan-flutey songs of national allegiance and wave around the Filipino flag, I looked at Jamie and said, "Fuck! Don't use my bits. We'll get thrown into a ring with pissed-off chickens!" It was too late. He had two solid pages of Manila trashing literally in his hands. This had the making of a hell gig.
And then....
The fear of God and death-by-beak woke Jamie from his sometimes laconic state and he destroyed. Despite being Filipino, the crowd liked being bashed. Despite being Catholic, they liked the sex jokes. I stood there, camcorder in hand, slightly amazed and entirely jealous as my bits got round after round of applause break from the 9,000+ Manila...ians in the audience.
That was when I had a revelation. Comics are NOT rock stars. We are fucking better. The job of a comic is a million times more difficult and requires about two more pounds of ballbag than the job of a rock star. Rock stars get to hide behind instruments and pre-arranged songs and a band. Rock stars can't bomb. They can only have shows where people seem a little disappointed. Shows where only 4-5 groupies offer blow jobs. Comics subject themselves to death threats, hecklers, violence, abuse from other comics, bombing, and every other horrible thing that could ever befall a performer. And yet we still go up and do it. We can go onstage, unknown, in any part of the world, and relate personal experiences on the fly that make people laugh. Being a rock star is child's play in comparison. It's playing in a sand box with toy trucks.
Still, it is the bottom of the entertainment totem pole. Outside the industry, it's also down at the bottom. A woman will brag, "Hey, my boyfriend is a DJ!" with gusto and pride. A woman will only ADMIT, "Yeah, my boyfriend is a comic" with a sheepish grin, quickly offering the caveat, "But he's not one of those self-loathing, miserable comics." At the peak of my studliness, I have had a woman or two say, "You fuck like a rockstar!" No one has ever said, or will EVER say, "You fuck like a comic!"
My epiphany was further confirmed when the lead singer from "Vertical Horizon" told Jamie how "fucking bold" he was for being a comic and how he could never do it. He was particularly impressed that Jamie did THAT material. I don't want to include the material that DID work. Instead, I want to include here the material that was deemed too edgy and scrapped at the last minute.
If you have ever been to the Philippines or know anything about Manila or Filipino culture, it might make you laugh. If you don't, but you like jokes aimed at traditionally oppressed ethnic groups, well then get your fucking laughing shoes on cowboy because have I got some stuff fer yew!
Without further ado, here's the rejected material, all from the sick mind of yours truly:
1. I visited an orphanage today, people. Yeah, it's called Downtown Manila. Seriously people, you ever hear of pulling out? What do you think tits are FOR?! Even Mexicans are like, "Damn, you fuckers got a lot of babies!" After seeing the ramshackle shanties, the neglected children, it seriously made me want to go down there and volunteer to build... an abortion clinic. Now don't get pissed at me because I READ "Freakanomics!" I didn't just look at the book jacket in an airport and think, "I'm going to read this and be smart... tomorrow...." And if you are pro-life, don't get haughty; it just means you didn't bareback a stripper named Skittles from South Carolina.
2. I met a beautiful girl today at that mall -- the Mall of Asia, heard of it? (it's the third biggest mall in the world; that's using a term called "irony"). She was tall, luxurious hair... she worked at one of those salons (that's gay code for employment center for "shims")... she had one of those exotic names.... I think it was Frank. So she took me home and showed me the time of my life... What's that, sir, she was actually a GUY!? No wonder she had such a huge cock. It was so big she was thinking about entering it into the 2008 Slasher Cup. (that's a callback, it's what the fancy HBO comics do).
3. I went out a club last night called "Government." I was scared shitless that it might be like the Philipines Government and there would be a coup. Come on, it's amazing how many coup attempts happen here. In America, there are two coups: the Revolutionary War and the Civil War. In Manila, two coups is a slow week. In America, we get bombed and the entire country is called into a state of national emergency. In Manila, you get bombed and it's called Tuesday.
4. It's Christmastime here, which is cool. In America, kids get a lump of coal and it means they've been very bad. In the Philippines, kids get a lump of coal and it means they have heat for the night. "Hey, mami, we get to cook food AND sleep tonight. I can take the day off from my job from the sneaker factory tomorrow morning... I know, I know, I'll still have to work as a squeegee technician tomorrow night. It's tough being 7."
5. When we flew in, there were signs everywhere saying, "Beware of Bird Flu" at the airport, which begs two questions: 1) how do you "beware" of bird flu? and more importantly 2) who's fucking birds? Is that what the aforementioned "cock-fest" is all about?
6. Let's face it, you guys are survivors. There are a LOT of horrible, shitty things that happen here all the time: volcanoes, kidnappings, earthquakes, karaoke. Please stop, people! It's hard enough hearing the "P" and "F" substitution when you talk, no one wants to hear it sung at full Asian throttle: "AT PIRST I WAS APRAID, I WAS PETRIPIED..." Petripied? What the puck is she singing about?
7. Everyone warned me to be careful down here of M.I.L.F. I was like, "What's so scary about a bunch of over-sexed soccer moms driving mini-vans? According to the instructional video, all you have to do is bend them over the kitchen sink to shut them up! Then they told me that M.I.L.F is a terrorist organization thatn stands for Moro Islamic Liberation Front. I was like, "Wow, no wonder they also look so angry sucking dick on those MILF hunter videos! They must be declaring jihad on those cocks!"
8. Philippine waitresses make those monosyllabic sounds all the time around the restaurant. MAAAK. They sound like a bunch of Geese walking around. (Not a finished joke)
9. MTV should have "Pimp My Tricycle" down here. (Not finished either)
10. Don't you just hate it when you see ugly people texting? I'm like "They must be playing a game of solitaire on their phone." Or how about morbidly obese people texting? Let's face it, texting is for flirting innapropriately and making plans. They got no business with either. And I know you can't T9 takeout, so put down the phone and go back to trying to look comfortable in that chair, lardo! Okay... I'll be honest... I don't have a tenth. I just wanted one so I wrote that tripe. Just my OCD kicking in again.
Hopefully, I'll be talking to you from South Africa.
Posted by Bill Dawes at 11:21 AM