By: Iris P. Concepcion
I, presumably the worst face appraiser in the whole universe, has taken delight, of late, the vivacity and cornerstone meditations on my words (think of yoga via folding legs) as appropriated by my foresighted circle.
Yes, the paragraph above is muddled and my friend Nick the Terrible will easily grant me a slap on the wrist for being too winding. But how dare refuse me a laughter "for world peace" digs on the neanderthal unknown? Cruiser fields my foot!
The joke comes in first as morbid. After taking a shower, the satire gains its posse life and it gets overtly hilarious. Some of the paragraphs I have read so far are so bad I can see the faces of their writers chuckling in one corner, duping me for a 20 buck of eternal parody.
But let me take a severe fondling (not in an amorous way) on a cheer captain's foray into my world. In seconds, he had produced hybrids of faces, some of them ignorantly ridiculous that I am reminded of Amytyville Horror in reverse lay-up. THESE are fun faces. He is a genius, I reiterate, for closely following what I have written in a cleverly grotesque, unnerving manner.
Say, my two Dads shrank in sizes, with their thin ponytails. And they speak retardly. Is this an inside joke, the interloper asks. Yes, I say with glee, it is. Beware, he is doing hybrid sound now from the audio pad. Be very afraid.
Or out from a dunk corner of a sweaty street, I saw a yummy Hotdog standing so regally, in immaculate white and great cane, eating up most of the jeepneys that wheeze by.
I even saw my face transposed in three of my imaginary kids' attributes that I immediately declared: "This is freaking 21st century by gad!" Hybrid clones.
Refer to front page stories lately. Exactly my point.
A picture speaks a gazillion words that could not be deleted even by an H-bomb.
What can I say? I am living a high maintenance life with no glam or exquisite future beckoning me on its embrace but here: some hope peeks and even with T. Burton's monsters lurking ubiquitously on the sideline, I know I'd be safe. I could even buy flowers for.......world peace.
Is this working? I guess it is working huge.
And son, do not give up on porn. It is obscene NOT being forthright and honest in these times. I'd rather read you than pretend good-doers who do silly hoinky-toink on the back. That is your lifeblood for crying out loud. Without that, your vision will be such a drab I'd be eating beetlenut for supper.
Thanks to the gallant men and women who had sacrificed a lot to make this work.
Sniggers.