Apologies to America et al.

If you guys can take such bluster and buffoonery from a blonde guy whose hair flies all over the place, surely you can allow the same of a septuagenarian ex-colonial.

Oh, so sorry, America.

H ey , dudes, you can take it, can’t you? After all, you allowed us to be run like hell once you regained us from the Japanese, even if you probably realized that the benevolent education in democratic niceties hadn’t been quite enough.

So what’s a little homophobic slur directed at a senior envoy of yours? As a wizened diplomat, he should’ve realized he couldn’t comment on an outrageous necrophiliac rape joke if it’s uttered by a very sensitive candidate engaged in a national electoral campaign in a sensitive former colony.

Should’ve occurred to him that there are all these cracks in a tropical baroque “democrazy” — like see-through slots on a bamboo floor — which could allow a crackerjack macho of a maton to win in such a contest, especially when a horde of orc-like crackpots are entitled to the same one vote each as any pedigreed academic.

Why, even with your electoral college system that’s designed to filter populist extremism, someone out there in your own current contest is actually sending shivers the world over (except in Russia, Iran, China and North Korea). He still has a Chinaman’s chance, doesn’t he, given the way the world is turning — flakey with all the flukes — despite putting his foot into his mouth on a daily basis, and shooting both with the accuracy of a Second Amendment zealot.

If you guys can take such bluster and buffoonery from a blonde guy whose hair flies all over the place, surely you can allow the same of a septuagenarian ex-colonial who’s still dyeing his own black, the better to go with his barako barok barbarisms.

Give him some slacks, it’s a crazy planets, after all. And he’s said to owe it to the ribald roughness of a regional subculture.

Try to understand where he’s coming from. He knows all about being abused by Catholic priests, and being lionized by women even well into his geriatric life. And since no one’s writing his story, he’s got to keep up the, uhh, narrative with bold, blunt swagger.

He’s got swag, get it? He can crack any joke this or that side of political correctness; that’s how mayors his age got to stay on as mayors. Your ambassador should have had the smarts to figure out that in a burlesque bastion of democracy such as our nay-shun — where basketball players, action movie tumblers, TV comedians and a Bible-quoting boxer can make it to the Senate — anyone has a shot at an even higher post, right?

C’mon, you know you can’t bowdlerize bawdiness. Nor can you expect the unexpected, who driveled his way to destiny, to let go of terms of endearment such as bayot or

buang just because he won big time that big, and he still can’t get over it.

Why, now he’s even embraced the executive privilege of slut-shaming speech. Figures, all right — as a continuum of manliness. It could only have been next on the agenda of any pettily vindictive, meanminded, allegedly narcissistic misogynist — following all that chest-thumping re plural wives and simul girlfriends, cat-calling a lady journo, objectifying the next in command just ’cause she’s a lady, and ripping at a Chief Justice also ’cause she’s a lady who happened to cross his uncouth path.

You expect statesmanship from someone who never imbibed the value of other than roughneck qualities? You’ve got another think coming when you deal with a goon who’s turned god, and has a cult following to boot.

Remember, he’s coming from a subterranean culture that ought to be given as much leeway as that of the most indecent indigene. So what’s a joke, or two jokes — even at the expense of an ambassador and a Secretary of State — between friends and allies? What’s a cute little slander from someone for whom civility was never even a strange bedfellow?

Okay, apart from the 24/7 trolls, some of us are sorry. But do go ahead and move on, the way all of us inadvertent losers are trendily advised. America, we’re still friends, okay? Since our relations have passed the test of time, surely it can also weather-weather the testiness of testosterone gone wacko.

So sorry, too, Australia, if your own lady ambassador made the same mistake of reminding everyone that there are limits to stand-up comedy hour. That she’s of the distaff side shouldn’t really give her free access to Asia-Pacific trespasses however merely oral.

Never mind if the lady missionary who occasioned the verbal gaffe also came from Down Under. Where we are, down under has all the right to claim the rawness of subcultural speech patterns. Move on, Sheila.

Sorry, Mexico, that your own ambassador had to be in the same hall when your country was raised as an example of a narco-state. Verbosity never takes a siesta, let alone checks who’s around and listening. Pricks from a cactus or whatever shouldn’t lead to any standoff. The gall, you might say. Oh, move on, amigos. Remember the galleon trade between us colonial brothers.

Sorry, India, if the five-six lending scheme was also mentioned rather crudely in executive speech, without forgetting to cite your nationals, even as longtime immigrants to a country that’s often in a usurious state. Let’s just be zen about it.

Sorry, France, if your own ambassador was blind-itemed in a typically loquacious example of post-midnight logorrhea covered by media, as someone who made the mistake of recalling the Paris accord on carbon emission reduction. For a change, politesse prevailed, so that he wasn’t directly named. Even if the characteristic pasaway combativeness followed, and an against-all-flags avowal made: that signing an international pact doesn’t mean it’s as good as sealed and delivered. At least you weren’t told: “Apres moi, le deluge!”

Sorry, Vietnam, if you feel kinda left out in the lurch after congratulating us for our brave legal victory over contested waters that you also claim. Sorry, bro, you might have to go it alone now.

As for you, you big bad China, no apologies. No, we’re not moving on until you move away from our nautical patrimony. We can only be sorry that our own designated diplomat wants it all hunky-dory like his boss when it comes to settling a delicate issue.

And sorry for you, too, Cambodia, for being the bully’s lackey — something like a certain Bato countrified as Mini-Me.

Lastly, sorry, United Nations. We’ll give it to you as we see it, how you’re “easily swayed… on a very stupid proposition.” All that due-process and human rights stuff are such airhead concepts, mind you. Eff effete refinements.

We have no time nor taste for anything other than one-trick pony, one-note-samba if lowbrow ideas on the need for quick action. We’re in peril, we’re grasping at a knife blade, we live (and die) on pedestrian vitriol. Mind your own business, scratch your own galis, all you gay blades out there. With hunkish hubris, we’ll teach y’all to move on to a new world order, loose lips sinking ships, loose cannons and all.

Bang! Boom! Stop! Anyone wants to get off?