What would you do if some stranger, sitting next to you in a movie house mortifyingly “whispers” (read: malakas na bulong) the ending of this exciting, suspense movie you were watching?
- cuss and shush him;
- cuss and spit on him; or
- cuss and sulk
In general, people hate it when some wise-*man* (actual word deleted for restrictive reason; it is also composed of three letters; and yes, it rhymes with “glass”), for logic only his dense brain cells can comprehend, decides to unabashedly announce an information so vital that he pre-empts what could have been a most wonderful experience.
It’s like making out the punch line in the middle of a joke… or finding out about the “surprise party” your officemates planned for your birthday… everything just becomes – wala lang, alam ko na ‘yan, corny na… useless.
Boink boink. I automatically reached for my cell phone, and read, somewhat mechanically, “Panalo na Pacquiao 10th round KO Morales.”
This, when I was almost (k)issing my pants (again, ersatz idiom) with suspense on the 4th round of the most important event in the life of the newest Filipino hero, the “it” boy in boxing, Manny Pacquiao, in his do-or-die fight against Erik Morales, who beat him to the title last year.
Argh! Practically pulling out the hairs on my head, I threw my cell phone on the sofa (d-uh I wouldn’t smash naman my phone over boxing), and cursed to a lifetime of obesity the guy who texted me that Pacquiao had already won.
To most of us mortals who don’t have a pay-per-view TV channel, the fight that we saw on advertisement-insatiable ABS-CBN was actually delayed by a considerable number of minutes.
But, so what if it was? It’s not like I had a million-peso bet at stake here! I just wanted to see the match… shriek when necessary… and experience the thrill of seeing the hailed Pacman pull out all the stops to win for his country… (yeah, right!).
OK, so I’m not a die-hard Pacquiao or boxing fan, but really, I did want to watch the fight together with the people I care most for… to share bonding moments of actually enjoying doing something together… like yelping together at Pacquiao’s blows, hurling creative curses at Morales (dude, nothing personal), saluting Pacquiao for his will to win…
And because of a thoughtless p-p-p-person (you got it, rhymes with brick), those moments were gone.
It’s appalling how some people suddenly elect themselves news authority and disseminate news that would elicit either indifference or extreme emotion to the majority… and for what? For the purpose of using the “send message to group” function on their cell phone!
And since I didn’t have the heart to tell the people around me that I knew Pacquiao had already won, from the 5th round until the end of the match, I was motionless – well, I wanted to be… just so to emphasize the drama of “knowing what everybody else doesn’t,” but I couldn’t for the life of me sit still – not because of the thrill of watching Pacquiao pound the life out of Morales – but because of wanting to punch somebody myself!
Quinito Henson. What the…???
Sure he’s a long-time sports commentator, but that doesn’t mean he’s good! (Case in point, Gloria Arroyo is President, but that doesn’t mean it’s legitimate… but that’s another story).
I mean, does Henson think that the greater part of his audience are folks in some bucolic island huddled together, listening to a primitive, wooden AM radio for him to illustrate every minute detail in that sore-throat-inducing voice of his? Either that, or his No. 1 fan is blind.
I mean, c’mon, Henson! Do you really have to yap that much? I don’t usually disturb the dead but I sure do hope Joe C. and Frankie E. are reading this – guys, some pointers here for this man, please… Or else, for the second time because of Manny, I would again be forced to curse another man to a lifetime of obesity.
So, there.
