I hate Olongapo because Lolito Go, who is still
on the loose impersonating me, was born and
raised there. I hate Olongapo because it claims a
Wowie de Guzman and a reggaeist named Blakdyak.
I hate Olongapo because the legend of “Ulo ng Apo”
sucks. I hate Olongapo because it is four hours from
Manila, eight hours from Baguio and a lightyear from
Jeddah. I hate Olongapo because they have a mall
the size of a urinal; beside that mall sits a statue
of Freddie Aguilar that looks like a squirrel (raccoon?)
I hate Olongapo because their city library, I guess,
updates only every after a century or two. I hate
Olongapo because beach and bitch are homonyms.
I hate Olongapo because just last Friday I bumped
into a tree and aloud the people laughed. I hate
Olongapo because videokes operate there per one
hundred square meters but it’s not the machine I hate
it’s the singers, I mean, the stingers who won’t let me
sleep. I hate Olongapo because, honestly, I was having
a hard time thinking what else I could hate about it.

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