Promise not to tell…
October 24, 2004 | 12:00am
There are a few die things that baffle me. One is the new Ford Ranger souped up series called the Pinatubo Edition complete with a gargantuan snorkel for, I guess, to spew out lahar. Whether it’s an official Pinoy edition or someone’s idea of doing a Chuck Norris kinda thing in his garage, it’s still like a bit delilah, don’t you think? Another one was an episode last weekend of Master Showman with Kuya Germs. Doing an Oprah style kinda thang as he gave out copies of the movie Happiness. As some of us know Happiness irked the western world for its rather strong and deviant sexual theme. To avoid lawsuits I would just like to say that I’m assuming that our beloved Kuya Germs has not had any inclination whatsoever about the controversy sparked by this movie. After all, he just wanted to spread some happiness. For the record, I really love him and I grew up watching That’s Entertainment every day. I just found it odd, that’s all. I really wish he’d seen it first before spreading the happiness. It’s like me giving that other equally controversial movie Salo (chocolate love of the stinky kind if you know what I mean) or Kathryn Harrison’s novel The Kiss (a memoir of her having an affair with her biological father) as an after-dinner token.
The oddest of them all, I would say, is that why perfectly good people still indulge in this practice that has brought Martha Stewart to jail. We all love to gossip. Or if you have violent reactions to this then at least admit you listen to good gossip at least once in your life. As my friend Miguel says, "It’s like caviar – it leaves an odd taste in your mouth, but you eat it with gusto anyway down to the last morsel." He adds that Manila perhaps would collapse without it.
We’re a small town. Unlike in the US where idle fascinations lean towards more high profile characters like the Olsen Twins and the coy Paris Hilton. Here anyone can have their 15 minutes of fame. It’s fun because we know them and have seen them in the flesh. All you need to do is screw up. The grander the better, the better cast of characters makes for a lasting scandale of the season. I remember being in this party and two women started speaking about some unfortunate socialite. "Yes, she got pregnant with a married man. He left her and her family disinherited her. She now lives in squalid conditions and is now well…forced to work!" Gossipmonger number two was all delightfully aghast. "Really?" she said with UFO wide eyes. "Um…Anyway who’s this again?"
So you see it doesn’t really matter. You can be Jane Doe and still be the crux of schaddenfreude. It’s an awful truth about our world. Secrets are no fun when they are kept secret. Of course, there are some that you simply just can’t tell. Like with anything else in life there are the untouchables. But the rest just drip like honey, peak like meringues, burst with fruit flavor like a Jolly Rancher. They are just too entertaining to keep. After all, reality is so much more fun than fiction. Note the reality TV boom as we care to know more about Trista and Ryan. We like that idea that we live in a Jackie Collins novel. It’s a terrific vacation from saving the world in your own way by being a CPA, social worker or a hack.
I have also noticed that some people use this as currency to forge relationships. How many people have I come across who dish out gossip that is completely impertinent to me and my existence. A friend of a friend of a friend of a friend slept with a friend of a friend’s fiancée. Alright point taken, dinner is served. How odd that we enjoy bonding or dare I say, become friends over someone else’s tragedy. Even for an unscrupulous libertine like me, I think it’s a tad bit much. Despite my tolerance for dodgy behavior I find this as die as wearing a mink coat while ice skating in Megamall. Same category would be false rumors meant to sabotage, those that simply are out there to destroy a socialite or an unsuspecting starlet.
Although among true friends we are certainly mad about gossiping about one another. I mean in some sick sense we rationalize that it’s safe to backstab one another. It never gets out, first of all, is what we tell ourselves. And at the end of the day we’d probably make fun of them on a drunken night in their faces, so it’s fair. I remember being in a beach trip where when one person went to the bathroom, that person would be the nub of jeers from our peers until they came back from the loo. Considering I have a lot of material going on for me, I forced myself to stay up until 4 a.m. and did not go to the bathroom not even once despite my petulant bladder.
What kind of friends do I have? Terrible. But lots of fun, that’s why I love them even though I know behind my back they make fun about how I dance (It’s a riot, I’m told) and bitch about me being a brat (I’m assuming only the safest things, God knows what else). I suppose they’re all entertaining and lovable in their own Joan Rivers’ kinda way.
The most interesting thing here is doing the Kevin Bacon thing when trying find the root of the six degrees of tsismis. Of course, some deception is involved in covering your tracks especially if you’re the nasty culprit. So how do you do it? Simple. It’s all in the delivery when you spread it. When spreading gossip just act concerned. That’s how I see everyone doing it with such aplomb. "You know I’m really concerned…" or "I couldn’t sleep because I just heard…" and when caught you can do the Mother Teresa defense and say you were simply concerned and wanted to help. And if you’re really lucky, you just might hear all the juicy details at the same time.
So why do we do it? Paul Newman once said, "One who has no enemies has no character." Well, the same holds true for a life without scandal. It just isn’t any fun at all. Where would E!, The Buzz and S Files be without it? The world would be a very sad place indeed. I know that only shallow people will admit to loving it. But deep down you get a certain ka-ching when you hear of someone being hauled off to rehab or has been rumored to contract herpes simplex 10 from the neighborhood massage parlor. Yes, you may be genuinely concerned but are you doing anything about it? Tsk, tsk how you gossip.
OK, gossiping is bad. So are chocolate, vodka, carbonara and tanning. But it’s a guilty pleasure, like watching Blind Date on ETC. Life would certainly be better without it. However, imagine a life without it? I can only tell you one thing – yawn.
The oddest of them all, I would say, is that why perfectly good people still indulge in this practice that has brought Martha Stewart to jail. We all love to gossip. Or if you have violent reactions to this then at least admit you listen to good gossip at least once in your life. As my friend Miguel says, "It’s like caviar – it leaves an odd taste in your mouth, but you eat it with gusto anyway down to the last morsel." He adds that Manila perhaps would collapse without it.
We’re a small town. Unlike in the US where idle fascinations lean towards more high profile characters like the Olsen Twins and the coy Paris Hilton. Here anyone can have their 15 minutes of fame. It’s fun because we know them and have seen them in the flesh. All you need to do is screw up. The grander the better, the better cast of characters makes for a lasting scandale of the season. I remember being in this party and two women started speaking about some unfortunate socialite. "Yes, she got pregnant with a married man. He left her and her family disinherited her. She now lives in squalid conditions and is now well…forced to work!" Gossipmonger number two was all delightfully aghast. "Really?" she said with UFO wide eyes. "Um…Anyway who’s this again?"
So you see it doesn’t really matter. You can be Jane Doe and still be the crux of schaddenfreude. It’s an awful truth about our world. Secrets are no fun when they are kept secret. Of course, there are some that you simply just can’t tell. Like with anything else in life there are the untouchables. But the rest just drip like honey, peak like meringues, burst with fruit flavor like a Jolly Rancher. They are just too entertaining to keep. After all, reality is so much more fun than fiction. Note the reality TV boom as we care to know more about Trista and Ryan. We like that idea that we live in a Jackie Collins novel. It’s a terrific vacation from saving the world in your own way by being a CPA, social worker or a hack.
I have also noticed that some people use this as currency to forge relationships. How many people have I come across who dish out gossip that is completely impertinent to me and my existence. A friend of a friend of a friend of a friend slept with a friend of a friend’s fiancée. Alright point taken, dinner is served. How odd that we enjoy bonding or dare I say, become friends over someone else’s tragedy. Even for an unscrupulous libertine like me, I think it’s a tad bit much. Despite my tolerance for dodgy behavior I find this as die as wearing a mink coat while ice skating in Megamall. Same category would be false rumors meant to sabotage, those that simply are out there to destroy a socialite or an unsuspecting starlet.
Although among true friends we are certainly mad about gossiping about one another. I mean in some sick sense we rationalize that it’s safe to backstab one another. It never gets out, first of all, is what we tell ourselves. And at the end of the day we’d probably make fun of them on a drunken night in their faces, so it’s fair. I remember being in a beach trip where when one person went to the bathroom, that person would be the nub of jeers from our peers until they came back from the loo. Considering I have a lot of material going on for me, I forced myself to stay up until 4 a.m. and did not go to the bathroom not even once despite my petulant bladder.
What kind of friends do I have? Terrible. But lots of fun, that’s why I love them even though I know behind my back they make fun about how I dance (It’s a riot, I’m told) and bitch about me being a brat (I’m assuming only the safest things, God knows what else). I suppose they’re all entertaining and lovable in their own Joan Rivers’ kinda way.
The most interesting thing here is doing the Kevin Bacon thing when trying find the root of the six degrees of tsismis. Of course, some deception is involved in covering your tracks especially if you’re the nasty culprit. So how do you do it? Simple. It’s all in the delivery when you spread it. When spreading gossip just act concerned. That’s how I see everyone doing it with such aplomb. "You know I’m really concerned…" or "I couldn’t sleep because I just heard…" and when caught you can do the Mother Teresa defense and say you were simply concerned and wanted to help. And if you’re really lucky, you just might hear all the juicy details at the same time.
So why do we do it? Paul Newman once said, "One who has no enemies has no character." Well, the same holds true for a life without scandal. It just isn’t any fun at all. Where would E!, The Buzz and S Files be without it? The world would be a very sad place indeed. I know that only shallow people will admit to loving it. But deep down you get a certain ka-ching when you hear of someone being hauled off to rehab or has been rumored to contract herpes simplex 10 from the neighborhood massage parlor. Yes, you may be genuinely concerned but are you doing anything about it? Tsk, tsk how you gossip.
OK, gossiping is bad. So are chocolate, vodka, carbonara and tanning. But it’s a guilty pleasure, like watching Blind Date on ETC. Life would certainly be better without it. However, imagine a life without it? I can only tell you one thing – yawn.
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