As some of you may know – and if you read Filipino Voices – I am engaged in a rather heated meeting of the mind-and-empty-vacuous-skull… a debate… I don’t know what to call it anymore, with The High Priest of Smokes. What was supposed to be an argument on the basis of things important to us has degenerated into an absolute embarrassment.
Now this not FV, and not the Jester-in-Exile’s debate thread; this is my blog. I believe that for me to properly address this issue, it is important for me to look at things objectively. Why would HP obsess himself with refuting every single one of my points to the point of near-speechlessness and stuttering? Why does he spend sleepless nights calling me names and calling me “Mr. Marocharim?”
After a few cigarettes, a trip around social network sites, and e-mails, I became a wee bit depressed.
A leisurely download festival, and skipped dinner, and a couple of cigarettes later, I finally figured it out:
The High Priest of Smokes is in love with Marocharim.
That is… ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT!
After days of endless debate, I figured out that all the signs are there. Here goes:
- When I called out HP, he bit into my greatness. He stepped into my palace of wisdom, and basked in the light that shines from deep within me. He saw me like a knight in shining armor emerging from the darkness. He saw me as a domineering man who can take control of lives of people, as well as destinies of entire nations. He saw in me a powerful human being with nerves of steel and sex appeal, I’m the real effin’ deal.
- He spends so much time in Filipino Voices, but he saw I good I am. He thought that the passion I have for a better society could translate into a passion of love. He stays up late at night trying to find me, to dedicate blog entries for me, to call me “Mr. Marocharim.” That’s never been done before.
- He tries to appeal to my inner emo by calling me derogatory names, mocking me in public. Every time I argue with him in straight-shooting language, he disintegrates into a mass of blubbering incoherent arguments at the attempt to impress me. I mean, look at his titles: “High Priest Answers Marocharim. Cost: None. Sucks.” Or “Mr. Marocharim’s Dreams.” I am the “dear young Apprentice,” the Padua (that’s “Padawan”), the “young jeddai” (that’s Jedi). Expressions of love, lust, admiration; they sound like porn fanfics and romantic odes to my greatness and love for Star Wars. Geez, they know everything in teh Intarnets.
- I managed to make him quit smoking temporarily. How many people do that for no reason at all except…
You have stepped into the very gate of incomprehensible reality, HP. I am divine, immortal, an almighty God of Kings… maybe I’m stepping over the line. Maybe he has the complete, un-annotated copies of the original three volumes of The Marocharim Experiment, printed from PDF, hardbound, worshipped. Maybe tHPoS is my biggest lurker, my most persistent stalker, the President-For-Life of the Marocharim Fans’ Club… the lucky person in possession of my lost right sock because the cleaners seem to be unable to find it.
Maybe tHPoS is the cream in my coffee, the puto in my dinuguan, the water in my melon, the Olmec in the Legend of My Hidden Temple. Maybe tHPoS is my crying shoulder, my love suicide; better when I’m older, the greatest fan of my life.
Maybe all you want is an autographed copy of the one-of-a-kind, ultra-expensive Marocharim.com T-shirt.
So I kind of figured that if this debate cannot be settled neatly and scholarly and HP will flub on every argument he makes and relies on rhetorical devices because he seems to have forgotten about the most basic of political thought, there is no debate. Yet there is no denying true love…
I’m sorry, but next to a weak grasp of elite theory, Arroyo supporters, and fascists, Virginia Slims is one of my biggest turn-offs… next!