One humid afternoon in the Seventies in UP Diliman, the legendary eccentric Danny Purple flagged down a JD bus—one of those red, rattling warhorses that shuttled students from Balara to Quiapo. The bus was already packed, but Danny squeezed himself in.
The JD “kundoktora”—prim, pink-uniformed, hair sprayed to military stiffness—clicked her ticket puncher and asked matter-of-factly:
“Saan ho kayo, sir?”
Instead of answering, Danny Purple froze, then exploded in righteous fury. His eyes bulged, his voice thundered, and the whole bus fell silent.
“Do you know who I am?”
The poor kundoktora blinked, terrified.
“Eh… hindi, sir…”
Danny threw his arms wide like he was unveiling the apocalypse:
“I… AM… CRIME!!!”
The bus gasped. The kundoktora, regaining her barrio-lass backbone, shot back:
“Eh ano ngayon?!”
And with operatic drama, Danny Purple delivered the line that would echo in UP canteens and tambayans for decades:
“CRIME… DOES NOT PAY!”
The bus erupted—in laughter, not fear. Even the driver almost drove into a kariton. And thus, with one punchline, Danny Purple cemented his immortality in UP Diliman lore.
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