It was a presscon like no other. The LA media stopped, watched and stayed — only to start vibrating like tuning forks, stimulated by the night, the music, Bernardo Bernardo’s ribbing and antics, and Dr. Marge Holmes unbridled “lecture.” they stopped to find out if if all those colorful and raunchy teasers and come-ons had any minutiae of truth.
They watched Maestro Robert Shroder mesmerize the audience with his musically-enticing instrument, with the lyrics as the story.
They watched and listened to Mr. Andy Tecson’s violin and the songs it seduced and lamented. Keyboardist Yoyong Nalas and Gelitos’ singing made the crowd cheer.
They stayed because Dr. Holmes is a deliciously wicked motormouth who tells her audience (among other things) that it’s her belief that marriage is a serious matter, along with moonlight, roses and future dreams — including how you want to name your first daughter after the most beautiful woman in the world.
She was set to discuss more important issues like death and taxes.
Dr. Marge is a real nice lady, with her peculiar sense of humor. She doesn’t use interesting biblical words without locking in feelings or conveying unqualified repugnance. She is a doctor of letters whose naughty books are a huge hit — from boudoir taste, to maximizing romance and its expression by a body part (one that we cannot mention).
I was grateful for being brown-skinned so no one saw me blush.
