Wednesday, May 26, 2004

Kuya Germs and Time Travel

It's all over, Mr. Hawking.

I think you'd better stuff your millions of research dollars into a
bag,
rev up that Four Wheel Drive wheelchair, and motor off to a nice little
retirement home with nurses who look like Laetitia Casta.

There is nothing left for you to do around here, Stephen --- I have
just
cracked the mystery of time travel.

And you're wrong, time travel has nothing to do with sending poor
quarks colliding with each other at high-speeds or forcing any other hapless
subatomic particle to perform circus stunts. And, thank God, neither does
it require the appearance of Scott Bakula anywhere.

The answer to the question that has eluded physicists is this:
time
travel is all about Kuya Germs.

You laugh. You think it's bull. But how else would you explain
last Saturday night when, for about ten minutes or so, I swear I travelled
back to 1986??

It's a bit too technical for laymen to grasp but here it goes. I
flipped
the TV on at around 11 pm. Still too early for the midnight movie on cable, I decided to check out what other stuff were out there.
So I zapped through a cockfight, an awards night, and a documentary on man's
quest for flight.

And then, from out of nowhere, German Moreno appeared on my
screen. Wearing a calamansi-green tuxedo and fuschia bowtie, Kuya Germs
flashed a wide grin, waved his arms a la Chorus Line, and in full pedophilic
mode, wailed "Walaaang tulugaaaan!!!"

Whereupon all the weird stuff began to happen.

As the opening credits of "Master Showman Presents" rolled in, I
felt
my hair metamorphosing from its "deliberately-mussed-up, fresh-from-bed"
look to the brushed-up pompadour that Janno Gibbs had in the mid-eighties.
What the....

Then the Bellestar Promotion Dancers took the stage and started
prancing
to the tune of "There's no business like show business..."
Please understand, those Japayukis in their skimpy sequined costumes and
funny hats were pretty distracting so I did not, at first, notice what was
happening to my pants. But when I looked down, my loose-cut maong pants were loose no more.
Naging baston! Naknangtokwa.

And if I had any doubts left that I indeed went back in time,
everything was erased when I saw the next guests to be called in:

Jojo Alejar and The Tigers.

That's it. I was back in 1986.

How could I not be back in 1986 when right before my very eyes
The Tigers were doing the moonwalk to the tune of "Ma-ma-se, Ma-ma-sa,
Ma-ma-cu-sa" as if techno and house music have not been invented? How could
I not be back in 1986 when the stage backdrop was a crudely-drawn and even
more crudely-cut styrophor image of a rose as if Photoshop never existed?
How could I not be back in 1986 when Kuya Germs was handing out Bert's Tree
Milk Powder and AGFA Color Film to his guests as if he actually thought they
liked it? How can I not be back in 1986 when I was half-expecting Lilet to
appear
and sing "I am the future of the world, I am the hope of my nation..."

Man, forget about particle accelerators or uranium-powered De
Loreans, park your butt in front of the TV this Saturday and let Kuya Germs
suck you
into a time warp.

Then I remembered that the cable movie was already underway
and zapped the channel. And just like that, I hurtled forward through
fifteen
years and crashed back into 2001.

Could somebody please hand me my Dippity-Doo Gel?