Fire Papaya, Chicken Papaya, Sex Papaya

   I was thinking about many ways to earn P20,000 courtesy of the “Extreme Papaya” contest in “Pilipinas: Game KNB?”  I’ve narrowed my long list to three options.  I could do any one of the following for P20,000:

  • Fire Papaya: Set myself on fire dancing “Papaya;”
  • Chicken Papaya: Have a chicken dance the “Papaya;”
  • Sex Papaya: Do the “Papaya” while having sex.

   They’ve done everything with Urszula Dudziak’s “Papaya:” the Silent Drill team of the Philippine Military Academy just did the “Papaya” for their routine, inmates in a Visayas prison just won P20,000 for doing the “Papaya.”  It begs the question: how extreme can “Papaya” get?  Boy, Edu Manzano didn’t know what he unleashed upon the world.

   “Fire Papaya” is, for all intents and purposes, extreme.  I’m not talking about Rachel Lobangco’s Micronesian fire-dances: I’m talking about dousing yourself in gasoline, setting yourself ablaze, and do the requisite dance steps of the “Papaya.”  Now that’s work P20,000.

   As far as “Chicken Papaya” goes, I had some problems trying to narrow down my list of animals that could dance the “Papaya.”  I thought about dogs, but that’s too obvious.  Cats, too, are obvious choices.  My list included horses, worms, snakes, butterflies, cows.  Pigs are cute, but they can’t dance.  Sheep, maybe, but that’s even cuter.  Now chickens dancing the “Papaya…” now that’s an idea.  After all, both fowl and fruit have to establish a good rapport by the time they get dunked into the pot for a tinola dinner.  Besides, “Fish Papaya” is a bit, well, gross.  Especially when you actually have to eat it.

   Which brings me to the best/worst idea for an “Extreme Papaya” video: why not do it while having sex?  All 45 positions of the Kamasutra are possible take-off points for dancing the “Papaya:” you can take any sexual position and dance the “Papaya.”  Why stop there: why not have a 30-person orgy and do the “Papaya” in the middle of mass orgasm?  Again, don’t get me started.

Tomas Dreamer

   I was watching “Wowowee” awhile ago… no wait, I watch “Wowowee” almost every day.  I suppose part of my brain has already died and got reabsorbed as testosterone because of scantily-clad Anna S. Feliciano/ASF Dancers (I have my eye on that girl who carries the Liveraide package).  Talk about the pervasive influence of popular culture.

   Because Willie Revillame panders to the poor by way of giving away big bucks, the dream of big money becomes synonymous with a new dream that has reared its ugly head on the collective subconscious: to see “Papi.”  The “Willie of Fortune” contestant – usually a poor, downtrodden person who has walked the proverbial pool of quicksand that is hard time – would profess, “Matagal ko nang pangarap na makasali dito sa WOWOWEEEEEE!!!”  This may sound “elitist,” but you have got to be kidding me.

   I was buying samalamig from a roadside vendor when I heard her talking to her kid:

   Manang selling cold melon juice: Anong dream mo, anak?
Kid of manang selling cold melon juice: (dances “Sayaw Darling”)

   Damn, I thought.  I suppose that the ambition of children have long since surrendered their innocence in favor of dreams that aim as low as height requirements for rollercoaster rides.  Back when I was a kid, all boys shared the same dream: to be an astronaut.  Girls were more noble: they all wanted to be nurses.  While we boys still try our darndest to be Captain Kirk, almost every girl who wanted to be a nurse back then is probably already a nurse now.

   Yet there are kids who still aim for the stars, if not to be stars themselves.  To be an “artista” is the most common dream I hear from girls nowadays.  I’ll be damned if they look like Maja Salvador by the time they grow up.