When did our standards and our tastes begin to deteriorate? The deterioration surely didn’t happen overnight. At any rate, it’s apparently the sad case today on all levels of society.

 

In my youth I remember this conversation with my mom. “In our country, all you have to be is beautiful, and you’ve got it made. It’s a running national prejudice.”

 

Immediately my beautiful mom would debunk it, citing the reality, absurd and limited as it might seem, that the hopelessly ugly themselves had as good a chance for success and stardom. For some reason, ugly was, indeed, funny, worth a thousand jokes, but one better be exceptional at it.

 

“The uglier, the better,” she’d say. “And if one were toothless or cross-eyed yet, one would have a definite advantage.”

 

I knew right away she was referring to some of our lovable comedians, who brought the house down by merely showing up.

 

Divine sense of humor

 

In Western culture, this kind of unkind, indeed perverse, humor is confined to the contest for ugliest dog, in which some of the winners are truly undeniable proof of a divine sense of humor. But, to be fair, the contest is between pet dogs; after all, they are loved and prized despite their looks, or precisely for that.

 

But rewarding bad singing has no excuse—well, except for dogs, since for them it becomes a singular talent; but definitely not for humans, not even for model, actress and product endorser Anne Curtis. She may be as beautiful and as talented as they come, but she definitely can’t sing to save her life.

 

In her case, not only does shrieking pass for singing; she misses more notes than hits them. That she says she knows it and she continues to sing does not necessarily constitute adding insult to injury. She is, in fact, idolized. Thus, her public massacre of music goes on profitably.

 

Have we lost our sense of discernment between good and bad singing? It all seems in fact a mere part of a phenomenon.

 

Poor taste

 

“Eat Bulaga” and such other television shows, as well as Willie Revillame and such other television characters, have arrived earlier and run longer, thus worthier of credit for the standardization of poor taste. People are made fun of on their shows. Generally, what fun is made is tasteless. It does not educate; rather it undermines education.

 

Slowly but surely, these shows have allowed us to get used, thus numbing us, to impropriety day after day. That the hosts of these shows live lives that are not exactly ideal, in fact scandalously in not a few cases, would seem only fitting, endearing in a sick sense.

 

Not too long ago, we had a wholesome noontime musical show called “Student Canteen,” with hosts Leila Benitez, Eddie Ilarde and Bobby Ledesma. They all lived normal decent lives, comported themselves with propriety, and also made people laugh, but never at the expense of good taste and propriety.

 

We were unable to build a proper culture on it. It has since disappeared from the air and been replaced with what we have today.

 

Again, I remember becoming a bit upset when I first heard a song that expressed a longing for a boyfriend who was a little bastos, implying that a decent and proper one was less sexy. As the saying goes, be careful what you wish for.

 

As happens, we have someone who not only fits the wish, but overshoots it; he’s worse than bastos can get, and he is shooting for the presidency, the highest position from where he can demean everyone.

 

Moral fight

 

That makes the May 9 elections a moral fight. Alas, it comes at a time when our moral standards seem lowest, or else how explain a Duterte-Marcos tandem leading in the surveys? Marcos happens to be the junior of the dictator who for 14 years set the nation’s moral standard in a regime marked by the worst injustice.

 

True to their ideals, Duterte and Ferdinand Marcos Jr. don’t even bother to cover up their sins. “What sins?” Ferdinand Jr. asks monotonously.

 

For his part, Duterte continues to flaunt his bad behavior. The Makati Business Club was his recent audience, its members sitting in their proper executive dresses, listening to his gory and tasteless tales, guffawing at them.

 

Has this become what honesty and authenticity are all about? Have we completely lost it, such that it is decency we regard with suspicion? Have things come to an ultimate sick point where anyone with any sense of propriety appears too good to be true and therefore has got to be fake?

 

I wonder what, aside from prayers, would redeem us? Whatever it is, it better come soon.