When Raco Ruiz was seven years old, he got his three sisters into helping him make funny videos by paying them with money from his allowance. His sisters were the actors, as well as the cameramen, and Ruiz posted the comedy skits that he dreamed up on YouTube. They topped out at around 200 views per video.

“I’ve been a content creator my whole life,” says Ruiz, who is also a visual artist, and has worked in advertising agencies, and as a director for a production house. Ruiz, it seems, can’t help but create, and his funny, viral videos full of conyo storylines, and Metro Manila shopping malls as characters, are but a cog—albeit a very large one nowadays—in the creative machine.

“I was just inclined to always make stuff for my own self-amusement,” the self-described multi-purpose artist explains. “And to make my friends and family laugh. I would always use comedic content as my outlet, as my way of coping with life, and making fun of everything.”

Ruiz began posting on TikTok upon a suggestion from a friend, creating parodies of Dora the Explorer and SpongeBob SquarePants, until he hit paydirt with his conyo-themed videos and started amassing a large audience. “The biggest happy little accident was getting famous on TikTok, because I didn’t know that people would find me funny. Because even amongst my own friend group—and you can quote me on this—not all of them find me funny,” Ruiz laughs.

Content creation today takes up most of Ruiz’s time—as much as a whole day to shoot a one- or two-minute skit. But it’s obviously a labor of love for the creative, who casually admits to us, “I would be doing this even if I wasn’t paid.” His sisters still occasionally help him out, and by his own admission, his friends who didn’t think he was funny previously still don’t find him funny, but acknowledge that “there is data that proves I’m funny!” Ruiz laughs.

Jharwin Castañeda

He is wary about being labeled a comedian, though, mainly because, he says, “the pressure of being funny is so intimidating for me even up to now.” But what he knows he does well is observe—people, events, trends—and use those observations to create content. In fact, Ruiz shares that content creation is “90 percent observing.” The remaining ten percent, he says, is condensing those observations into something that will capture—and hold—people’s attention. And that’s where he injects the comedy.

Humor, for Ruiz, has always been a coping mechanism. “It’s sort of like my therapist,” he says. “Jokes help you see the funny side of things. For example, if I’m having a comedically bad day—one bad thing after another—I look at it through an observer’s lens and be like, ‘This is kind of funny, actually, how bad my luck is today.’” For Ruiz, being able to see the funny in things is a surefire way to get through life. “Most of the time, for the small inconveniences or stuff you can’t change, humor’s there to save you.”

Art direction by Nicole Almero. Beauty direction by Larissa Joson, Sacha Mancera, and Mikiyo Ricamora. Production design by Riza Rosal. Makeup by Celine Cabildo. Hair by JA Feliciano. Styling: Geno Espidol of Qurator.

Frequently Asked Questions

Raco Ruiz is a Filipino content creator, visual artist, and director known for viral TikTok parodies featuring conyo humor and Metro Manila shopping malls as recurring characters. With a background spanning advertising agencies and production house directing, he describes himself as a multi-purpose artist who has been creating comedic content since childhood.

Ruiz began posting on TikTok after a friend’s suggestion, initially creating parodies of Dora the Explorer and SpongeBob SquarePants. His breakthrough came with conyo-themed videos that resonated widely and built him a large audience — a result he describes as a happy accident, since he had no certainty that his specific brand of humor would find broad appeal.

Ruiz describes his creative process as primarily an act of watching — observing people, events, and trends closely and accumulating material before distilling it into content. The remaining ten percent, he says, involves compressing those observations into something that captures and holds attention, which is where the comedic framing enters the process.

Despite his viral success, Ruiz is wary of the label because he finds the pressure of being consistently funny intimidating. He prefers to identify as an observer and creator — someone whose humor emerges naturally from paying close attention to the world around him rather than from a deliberate performance of a comedian’s role.

Ruiz describes comedy as functioning like a therapist — a tool for reframing difficult or frustrating experiences by finding the absurdity within them. He applies an observer’s detachment to his own bad days, treating a string of misfortunes as material rather than sources of distress, and credits this perspective shift as one of the most reliable ways to get through life’s small inconveniences.

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