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मिर्थ डे फॉर Oyayi

Mirth day for Oyayi

IBUHOS man ang semento sa hulmahang anghel o demonyo, mananatiling semento.

Isalin man ang ang tubig sa plorera, baso, sinisera, orinola, pitsel o lubluban ng kalabaw, mananatiling tubig pa rin.


Essence remains and stays more of the same; the forms can take on guises and disguises.

We’re not exactly enjoying the screwing that bleeds taxpayers every which way, so please shove Cha-cha up yours… cha-cha is tea-tea kaya isalaksak na lang sa mga tumbong n’yo… we’re not changing whores midstream.

Aaminin na hindi mahilig ang inyong imbing lingkod sa chat… which may take on a chatoyant glow when the beloved chat-mate warms up to caressing tenderness of lines… why, “chat” is derived from French for cat. Pussy!

Kaya isang maliyab na pagbati sa aking kinagiliwang katuwang sa sayaw ng tango, Roda Astilla… at lalong maalab na pagpupugay sa mga katuwang sa mas malagablab na sayaw na nagtatagal sa suso pero hindi sa baso— tungga!

Tutungga habang nagliliwaliw ang ikalawang apo—
Oyayi—sa Disneyland, Hongkong… for him, it will be a day of birth, a day of mirth. Kiddo, do get gramps a dirt-cheap disc of Yoyo Ma’s cello renditions, or some music rendered on the quaint pentatonic scale, a wee piece of mutton-chop jade or hessonite… any book by Deng Xiao-peng, Zhuge Liang or Mencius, a small figurine of Tsai Shen Yeh riding a tiger, a small print depicting peonies, a dozen or so peacock feathers… uh, erotic is teasing bare-naked beloved with a peacock feather while kinky is trussing her up and teasing her with entire peacock, such a body member can be hot as an ember and spurt lava…

While you’re there with your Anghelola, mom, dad, sister Musa and Tita Jaq, gramps will be in the company of partners in prime and jurors of a nationwide contest for journalists plied out by a Lucio Tan-led outfit… we’ll celebrate, cerebrate, may go inebriate.

As you’ve gone abroad, gramps will likeably, ably go into a broad. Such are pleasures we snuggle in with gusto—infants can do infantry, adults do adultery…

Like water, we flow into places and occupy spaces here and there… but we’ll just run around in circles and won’t be going anywhere unless we journey within… and gramps has taken a lot of such inward travels and travails.

Not the sights and sites we see, it’s the insights we take to heart, give to mind… uh, the technical term is epigenesis; man is but an expression of his inner landscape, we shape ourselves within and give outward guise to such inner shaping.

Ah, grandchildren… and it was sagely Solomon who wrote that they’re the crowns worn by their grandparents. And I must hurl a plaint that such weights bearing on our heads might touch off dislocated neck.

But we now rule as emperors.

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