The Philippine Online Chronicles

Anger is a killing thing: it kills the man who angers, for each rage leaves him less than he had been before - it takes something from him --- Louis L’Amour

Unless you’ve been on a self-imposed exile from civilization, you’d most likely be aware of this uniquely Pinoy contribution to Robert Ripley’s “Believe it or Not” serials that deal with the strange and the unusual. At some point, you may have probably read it in the major dailies and tabloids, or seen it in primetime news on television --- oftentimes accompanied by the hysterical announcing of the news anchor.

The places may be different each time but it’s a scenario that is all too strikingly (and frighteningly) familiar: Man walks into a dingy, smoke filled Karaoke bar full of inebriated patrons. Man sings his heart out, and, if he's on a roll, does an all-nighter hogging the microphone. Feeling confident of his talent --- despite the obvious protestations from the audience --- he then brings out his piece de resistance, and belts out the first few lines of that walang kamatayang (undying) Frank Sinatra standard: “And now, the end is near, and so I face, the final curtain…”

It was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back, so to speak, and it doesn’t take long before the jeers and catcalls begin. Nasty stares and venomous insults are hurled back and forth --- a prelude to something primal that is about to ensue. And soon enough, in a classic Hollywood bar fight style, fists, bottles, and in some instances, chairs, fly in all directions.

But unlike in the movies where the most one can ever get in a testosterone-filled free-for-all is a bloody nose and a couple of broken bones, this fisticuff often ends up in a grisly and tragic manner --- all because the singer tried to ”do it his way”.

One can only wonder if the unfortunate Sinatra-wannabe realizes how prophetic those first few lines were...

Often dubbed as the “My Way Killings” by both police and the media --- for the obvious reason that the main source of the trouble can be traced to the song, or to be more specific, to the way the song was sung --- it’s a story as bizarre as it is tragic. The Paul Anka-penned classic ditty has been blamed for at least half a dozen violent deaths in the past decade --- and those are the ones that made it to the news. We can only speculate as to how many actual deaths related to the song have gone unnoticed in this Karaoke-mad country. Then again, it could all be just a coincidence, weird, but a coincidence nonetheless. It’s something for the books, and one that will leave sociologists and psychologists scratching their heads for answers.

Karaoke-related violence isn’t limited, or unique to these shores, by the way, as a New York Times article points out: “In the past two years alone, a Malaysian man was fatally stabbed for hogging the microphone at a bar and a Thai man killed eight of his neighbors in a rage after they sang John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” Karaoke-related assaults have also occurred in the United States, including at a Seattle bar where a woman punched a man for singing Coldplay’s “Yellow” after criticizing his version.”

So there, I bet you’re probably glad (and perhaps, even smiling) to know that it’s not just the Pinoys who are being singled out this time. “Di lang pala tayo (It’s not just us)”, you might think. It seems to be a worldwide phenomenon, and almost always, the main culprit in these Greek-like tragedies is that cursed karaoke machine.

But wait… before you heave that sigh of relief, the NY Times piece goes on to say that the odds of one getting killed during a karaoke/drinking binge may be higher in the Philippines than anywhere else in the world.

I know what you’re thinking: it’s another one of those articles that puts down Filipinos in general. Nothing, however, could be further from the truth. Bars and places that overflow with alcohol have always been fertile ground for violence, be it here or in other parts of the world. It’s a veritable workshop for the devil, which would gladly to work on idle, alcohol-addled brains. But nowhere in the world is the combination of wine (or in this case, beer), women, and song more lethal than in this violent-prone society, where machismo is often celebrated (and even worshipped) and placed above everything else, including common sense.

One need not look beyond his own neighborhood to witness such display of manliness. Drinking binges, or "tomahan" is almost a daily occurrence in many a corner sari-sari stores and makeshift bars in and around the country, particularly after payday. Chances are, some of those binges will end up violently, as long-kept secrets and hinanakit (grudges) often pours out uncontrollably from lips loosened by alcohol. The addition of a microphone and a karaoke machine, however, exponentially increases the chance of someone’s evening ending up badly.

Bars that allow and encourage patrons to sing or take the stage have been around long before karaoke became a household word and part of the mainstream culture. In those days, they were simply called “sing-along” clubs --- hole-in-the-wall bars that often had a single piano and a host egging the guest to sing along.

It wasn’t long before the trend caught on with the rest of the country, no doubt helped with the introduction of the early versions of the machine --- which were no more than your amplified, or “amped up” home sound system with a microphone (or two, for duets) connected to it.

Those were the days before digital discs, when background music was often recorded on cassette tapes. Yes, dear young ones, there was a time when magnetic tapes were considered hi-tech. Unfortunately, one also had to master the art of patience, as one had to wait practically forever for the tapes to wind just to get to his desired song in the list; and unless one had the moolah for a state-of-the-art sound system for his home, the best (and only) place where he can stretch those vocal chords to the max and live out his rock star fantasy was inside those smoke-filled bars.

Who would have thought then that something as innocuous a pasttime such as singing, would eventually turn out deadly for some --- even more so, when alcohol and women are added to the equation.

As a sing-along/karaoke bar veteran who has spent one too many nights in those dingy, smoke-filled bars --- as well as its swankier cousins --- in the past, I was witness to such near-encounters numerous times, and can attest to the fact that anyone who has held a microphone in one hand, and a bottle of beer in another, seem to think that he is Sinatra-incarnate --- someone who can give Ol’ Blue Eyes a run for his money.

While a pro would sing for his meal, Juan, the Karaoke lounge lizard, would pay top bucks (for meals and drinks of course) just for the applause and adoration of the crowd, especially the ladies. And this is where most troubles start, made worse by those empty bottles of beer on the table. Good singer or not, no one likes a showoff, and nothing irritates a man numbed by alcohol more, than another equally drunk man on stage singing non-stop.

Pinoys often pride themselves as musically inclined, although, the jury is still out on that claim since not everyone in these islands can carry a tune (Manny Pacquiao, would be a good example), but one thing's for sure: everyone is a critic. And, as that NY Times article proves, having too many critics and too much alcohol oftentimes has deadly consequences.

Forty-something and single, the author has long detached himself from the corporate world where, for nearly twenty years, he used to work as a sales and marketing executive for a well-known clothing manufacturer. Since 2002, he's been doing free-lance consultative work in the same capacity during his corporate years. Writing, on the other hand, was a hobby he indulged in five years ago when, out of boredom, he started writing down his thoughts in a blog, which continues to this day.