Jojo A. All The Way!!!

My friend Roy, a bagpiper, told me to watch out for his interview on a show on RJTV one Monday evening a few weeks ago. I forgot the exact time the show was airing so I ended up tuning in to the station way after the show he was to appear in had ended. What I caught was the talk show of 80s heartthrob (well, sorta) Jojo Alejar!

Man, was I amazed! I mean THIS was the Jojo Alejar I would wait patiently for, with his group The Tigers, every Sunday night on Penthouse, Live! back in the Dark Ages!!!

I was amazed that he is still alive, and still has the same hairstyle! (Imagine the luck of his barber! (or is it beautician?) He’s been in business for 3 decades now!) He was on the list of my celebrity crushes back then, I must admit. (HAHA! Laugh all you want!) He was way up there on the list, hobnobbing with the likes of Keno and The Gelboys! Woohoo!

That night I stayed glued to the show for about half an hour or so, and I’ve seen it several times since then.

My verdict: the show’s way cooler than the Misadventures of Maverick & Ariel (another favorite). This was Reality TV at its finest—showing stupid and silly as stupid and silly can really be, without any pretensions! And, of course, it has Jojo Alejar!

Jojo A.’s hosting style is an oh-my-why-is-he-trying-so-hard combination of Conan O’Brien and Jay Leno, mixed with a little Kuya Germs and Bro. Mike. He also looks like he’s still living in the 80s--at least in his head, back when he was still a sorta heartthrob. Try catching the early part of the show where he does his monologue though, and you might be surprised to find that some of his quips do hit the spot. (Well, it depends on whether it’s your lucky night, hehe.)

Once you get used to the show, it becomes entertaining in a very, very twisted kind of way. It grows on you. Believe me. It’s like a better-looking Jessica Zafra without the angst, and none of the brain matter either.

These revelations must come as a surprise to most people who didn’t know me back during my high school and college days. Most of them think that I’ve always fancied rockstar/artist super-talented types, or super-gorgeous, hot and, sometimes, slightly brain-dead guys.

They have no clue that I once liked dancing to The Nailclippers’ version of Gloria, that I almost fainted one time when my group chanced upon The Gelboys at the same resort we were in, and that I became desolate when I found out that Keno, borrowed, eherm, his song “A Friend” from the Chipmunks. (Please, let me not get into details about the last one, it’s still very distressing to remember).

They’d be surprised to know that I wasn’t really into the local rock scene. A reason is that I hated chilling out in dingy, dark, sweaty places constantly fumigated by cigarette smoke (I still do), that I preferred hanging out at Giraffe (sipping frozen Margaritas silently while blending with the wallpaper) and the D.O.M.-ish and matronic places called Conway’s and The Conservatory. Oh well, but that’s another story.

Going back to Jojo A.’s show that’s said to be developing a cult-like following—the Inquirer has reported that Rico Blanco is a loyal follower—I think I like it because it makes me realize every time that some things, like taste for instance, DO change (Thank, God!), and that some things just DON’T, and inevitably becomes a welcome source of extreme amusement in troubled times.