Willie, nawiwili ka na. Or Shakespeare and other metaphors for Mr. Revillame.

All the world's a stage to Willie Revillame.

Everyone plays a character.

Emotions are made-up.

Trap-doors and smoke and mirrors,

and hiding corpses behind curtains.

The choreographed applause,

the dancing, the singing,

the crying, the drama of life unfolding.

The crush of bodies.

The sweat that flows as secrets,

held on to for so long, are revealed

on national television.

And the money, the money that flows.

A payment for every dirty underwear exposed,

for every horrible gyration, screeches, screams.

So little for more than a pound of flesh.

The humiliation, the horror.

Ok lang, may bayad naman.

Everything has a value, and that's monetary.

Who cares if the happiness is momentary?