Satire Dream: I Was The Correspondent of A Local YV Station Covering Jesus Last Words

I was in Golgotha in my dream, circa 33 AD. Jesus hangs on the cross, looking less than thrilled. 

A crowd of Roman soldiers and assorted onlookers mill about, mostly bored.

Jesus: (Straining) Father... forgive them... for they know not what they do...

(I was there firsthand ... inexplicably present, and scratching my head and muttering)

Butch John Jason: Uy, wait lang Jesus. Hold up. "They know not what they do?" With all due respect, Lord, but I think you got the wrong crowd.

(Jesus looks down, confused.)

Jesus: What do you mean? They're crucifying me! Surely they don't understand the gravity of their actions!

Butch John Jason (Scoffs) Gravity? Lord, these guys? They're pros! They know exactly what they're doing.

(I pull out a smartphone and scroll through a news feed.)

BJJ: Look, this centurion here? He's got a side hustle selling indulgences. And that guy over there? He's spreading fake news about you being a communist. They even got Pilate on payroll!

Jesus: (Eyes widening) Fake news? Indulgences? Pilate's corrupt? But... but I thought they were just following orders!

BJJ: (Shaking his head) Lord, you're too good for this world. These guys are playing 4D chess with people's lives. They're gaslighting the masses, stealing from the poor, and rewriting history faster than you can say "Resurrection."

(At this point, I showed Jesus a meme.)

BJJ: See? They're even making memes about you! "Jesus: Fake News Victim." Can you believe it?

Jesus: (Sighs) So... they do know what they're doing?

BJJ: Lord, they're practically experts! They've got think tanks, PR firms, and a whole army of trolls dedicated to spreading misinformation. They're not ignorant; they're malicious!

Jesus: (Rubbing his temples) This is... more complicated than I anticipated.

(He pauses, then speaks with newfound resolve.)

Jesus: Okay, new plan. Father... forgive them... because they know exactly what they're doing, and they're doing it anyway. And maybe, just maybe, send a lightning bolt to their social media accounts. Amen.

(Hearing that, I was nodding approvingly.)

BJJ: Now that's the Jesus I know! Laban!

(The Roman soldiers, completely oblivious, continue hammering nails. They didn't even know I was starting a Facebook live stream.)

BJJ: Guys, you won't believe what's happening up here. If you won't believe it ... check it out yourself!

Owning A St. Longinus Paso - A Story of Mishaps and Missteps

So, I thought owning a paso or a lifesize statue intended for a Good Friday procession would be all solemn reverence and pious reflection.

Turns out, it's more like adopting a very large, very dramatic, and surprisingly high-maintenance toddler made of wood.

It all started with the "Selection of Subject and Iconography."

I envisioned a stoic Jesus, maybe a bit dusty, but radiating divine forgiveness.

Instead, I ended up with St Longinus, a centurion whose life and conversion we can relate to.

To the uninformed, St Longinus was the centurion who pierced the side of our Lord while hanging on the cross.

He was nearly blind and was healed when the blood and water from Jesus fell into his eyes.

It was he who claimed: "Indeed, this was the son of God." (Mark 15:39.

After the miracle, when he got his eyes restored to 20/20 vision ... he was converted, left the Roman army, and became a monk.

There, he was arrested and martyred because he refused to renounce his faith; his teeth were forced out, and his tongue was cut off.

But miracle of miracles, even though his tongue was cut off, he managed to speak clearly and managed to destroy some idols in the presence of the governor.

The governor, who was made blind by the demons that came from the idols, had his sight restored when St. Longinus was beheaded because his blood came in contact with the governor's eyes.

Back to our topic ... my only problem with our statue was that his mournful expression looked suspiciously like he'd just stubbed his feet with his spear instead of Jesus' side.

The person who sculpted the statue (though he sounded defensive) assured me it was not mournful.

He said it was more of "anguish," but I swear I saw St Longinus roll his eyes when he said that.

What more if I dare say point-blank that the statue's eyes are squinting -strabismus to some ... cross-eyed to others. Naawa na nga ako sa kanya at hindi ko na sinabi.

Then came the "Budget and Acquisition." Let's say my dreams of buying more exotic fruit trees in our orchard have been replaced by the stark reality of "Caro/Karosa Expenses ... and don't forget the statue expenses."

I knew the carriage was important, but I wasn't prepared for the sheer artistry (and cost) of it all.

My carpenters, who were doubling as the architect and electrician, Michael and Alfred, did have a blanket authority on everything ... I was worried about their utter and complete disregard for right angles, but they assured me their creation was "divinely inspired."

And the electricity! Oh, the electricity! I wanted subtle, ethereal lighting.

Michael, however, installed enough wattage to power a small city. 'The brighter the better.

Alfred and Franz agreed without hesitation.

He claimed it was "to illuminate the centurion's pain and ambivalence (he pierced Jesus remember ... but he regretted doing it) for all to see!"

I suspect it was to blind the competition.

Then we have to commission a camarera who will decorate and maintain the pasos (religious images) and carrozas (floats),

My daughter-in-law Shyla, volunteered for the job; I readily accepted it for sheer lack of budget. Tipid tips baga.

I know her. When she put her heart into it ... she delivers. Bravo Shy!

And you know Michael, he is a Jack of all Trades... he wants to dip his feet in the perplexing world of camarista. Can I stop him? I can't.

But in fairness to them, their tandem and collab showed promise. Purrfect.

"Vesting and Design" was another adventure.

Forget haute couture; this is holy couture. My St Longinus now sports a crested helmet, specialized armor, a decorated belt, and a red or crimson cloak that looked so heavy.

I'm convinced Enrike, my designer, had put that one on purpose - to get that much-needed oomph to distract the somber mood of the procession while everybody was reciting the rosary.

Don't even get me started. The cloak was so long, it doubled as a tripping hazard for Franz, David, and Bonjo - our costaleros (the teenage volunteers who pushed and pulled the carroza).

Which brings me to "Logistics and Manpower." Finding skilled sculptors was easy compared to finding costaleros willing to risk their spines for my slightly-off-kilter paso.

I ended up bribing all of them with promises of a free tuna sandwich, a bottle of coke and my absolution.

And now, the grand finale: "Maintenance and Tradition." Turns out, owning a paso isn't a one-day-a-year gig.

It's a year-round commitment to dusting, polishing, and praying that Michael and Alfred's "divinely inspired" carriage doesn't collapse mid-procession.

So, as Good Friday approaches, I stand before my St. Longinus, and a mix of pride and sheer terror swirls around my head.

Will the carriage hold? Will the lights short-circuit? Will the costaleros revolt? Will St Longinus' head fall off when passing deep potholes in the road? Only time will tell.

But one thing's for sure: this Holy Week, I'll be praying harder than ever before.

Not just for forgiveness, but for a good chiropractor to attend to my back pains and muscle aches.

And maybe, just maybe, I can concentrate on and buy more Hibiscus varieties to brighten and encourage the mangoes ... the mangosteen, the rambutan, the lanzones of the world to finally flower and bear abundant fruits next month.

They need to make a good income.

I know Michael will demand a change of costume, again, and he is already hinting at his extravagant plans.

He thinks St Longinus will need a more elaborate costume, something not seen in Ten Commandments or Jes

Politicians And The Holy Week

 

Fasten your seatbelt, folks, because it's that time of year again - a time for It's Showtime! 

The time when our esteemed Filipino politicians, fresh from their taxpayer-funded vacations (ahem, "official business"), emerge from their air-conditioned bunkers to grace us with their presence during Holy Week.

Ah, Good Friday. 

A day of solemn reflection, of contemplating sacrifice, of... spotting which politician is wearing the most expensive barong tagalog at the Visita Iglesia.

You see them, piously clutching their rosaries (probably blessed by a cardinal they flew in on a private jet), their faces etched with what might be remorse, or could just be indigestion from the lavish Lenten buffet they had after posing for photos with the poor.

Uso pa ba ang fasting sa kanila ... oo nga ... iwas karne muna sila at mag-isda na lang, but what do you in their tables - lobsters, Japanese snow crabs, king salmon, bluefin tuna, and king crabs.

Maundy Thursday? That's when they really shine! 

Remember Jesus washing the feet of his disciples?

Our politicians take that lesson to heart... by having their bodyguards wash their feet after a long day of shaking hands with the commoners (while discreetly checking their Rolexes, of course).

And the question on everyone's mind: do we see genuine repentance in their eyes? 

Do we witness a profound transformation, a shedding of their corrupt skin like a molting snake? 

Well, let's just say the only thing they're shedding is their campaign slogans from the last election.

The truth is, for many of our politicians, Holy Week is just another photo op, another chance to remind the masses that they, too, are "devout" and "one of us." 

It's a carefully choreographed performance, designed to distract from the fact that they'll be back to their old tricks the moment Easter Sunday rolls around.

After all, why let a little thing like the suffering of Christ interfere with a good, old-fashioned kickback scheme? 

Why examine your conscience when you can examine your Swiss bank account instead?

So, have we become desensitized? Perhaps. 

But maybe, just maybe, we're starting to see through the charade. 

Maybe we're starting to realize that true repentance isn't about wearing a somber face for a week, but about living a life of integrity, honesty, and service to the people.

But hey, who am I kidding? Pass the kakanin, please. 

It's a long weekend, after all. 

And besides, the next election is just around the corner. Time to start polishing those halos!

Miyerkules Santo Digital Age

Get ready, ladies and gentlemen: Let’s explore the dark side of Spy Wednesday, or Miyerkules Santo: Ang Araw ng Pagtataksil (The Day of Betrayal), as we call it in the Philippines.

You know, that day when Judas, the OG frenemy, sold out Jesus for the price of thirty bucks (inflation, people!).

We thought all the while that betrayal, a double-crosser, a snake, and a rat were so 2026-ish ... we can even trace thi
Well, Judas isn't the only traitor in the history books. We Filipinos, with our telenovela-level drama, know a thing or tws phenomenon even in the year of our Lord.
o about betrayal, especially when it comes to politics.

It's practically our national sport, right after basketball and complaining about traffic.

Ah yes, Miyerkules Santo—that sacred midweek plot twist where betrayal gets its own holiday special.

Not Christmas, not Easter Sunday, but that juicy, uncomfortable episode in the middle where someone whispers, “Magkano ba talaga?” and suddenly loyalty has a price tag.

Judas walked so modern traitors could run—preferably into a press conference.

Let’s be honest: if Judas were Filipino today, he wouldn’t need 30 pieces of silver.

He’d accept a consultancy contract, a vague “advisory role,” and maybe a ribbon-cutting ceremony in his honor.

“Hindi po ito pagtataksil,” he’d say, adjusting his barong. “Strategic realignment lang po.”

And really, can we blame him? In a country where betrayal comes in family size, barkada bundle, and government-issued packaging, Judas is just the prototype.

The beta version. We’ve upgraded betrayal into an art form—complete with sound effects, background music, and a tearful monologue.

Take the modern Pinoy traitor archetype:

First, there’s the Political Chameleon. Campaign season: “Para sa bayan!” After elections: “Para sa budget.”

They switch sides faster than a jeepney swerves to pick up a passenger who didn’t even wave.

Loyalty? Optional. Position? Permanent goal.

Then there’s the Family Plot Twist. The kind where you raise someone with love, sacrifice, and giving him unlimited rice, only for them to grow up and say, “Ma, Pa, wala kayong ambag sa buhay ko.”

Ah, yes. The Judas Deluxe Edition. No silver needed—just Wi-Fi and audacity.

And let’s not forget the Keyboard Makabayan. Brave online, mysterious offline.

When it comes to the West Philippine Sea, they suddenly develop a PhD in “Alternative Facts.”

“Hindi naman atin ’yan,” they type confidently, as if geography is a matter of opinion and not, you know… maps.

It’s betrayal with a Wi-Fi signal—fast, loud, and completely detached from reality.

Of course, betrayal in the Filipino context isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s subtle.

It’s the friend who leaks your secrets “by accident.” The coworker who smiles at you but forwards your mistakes to the boss with bullet points. The relative who says, “Concern lang ako,” right before ruining your reputation at the reunion.

Spy Wednesday, then, isn’t just about Judas. It’s about all the little betrayals we’ve normalized.

The everyday sellouts. The casual disloyalties. The moments we choose convenience over conviction.

But here’s the twist ending: unlike Judas, most modern traitors don’t even feel guilty.

No dramatic remorse, no returning the silver, no existential crisis. Just a press release, a denial, and maybe a sponsored post.

“Miyerkules Santo: Ang Araw ng Pagtataksil.”

Or in today’s terms: just another Wednesday

he First Three Months of Utter Existential Dread

Ah, April Fools' Day.

That one day of the year when we collectively agree to lower our standards for humor and embrace the art of the mildly inconvenient prank.

But let's be honest, is April Fools' Day really about harmless fun, or is it a desperate attempt to inject some excitement into a year that's already three months deep into a soul-crushing monotony?

Think about it. January: the month of broken resolutions and post-holiday depression.

February: a fleeting glimpse of romance overshadowed by the crushing weight of societal expectations.

March: a vague sense of impending spring that never quite materializes.

By the time April rolls around, we're all so bored and disillusioned that we're willing to believe anything, just for a brief moment of distraction.

That's why April Fools' Day works. We're not laughing with the pranksters; we're laughing at ourselves for being so desperate for entertainment.

Was April specifically designated as a break to keep the next month exciting by making jokes and pranks?

Probably not. But it should be.

After all, what better way to prepare for the rest of the year than by lowering your expectations and embracing the absurdity of existence?

The first three months were a dismal flop and boring. Absolutely.

But that's not April's fault. April is just trying to pick up the pieces, to slap a Band-Aid on the gaping wound of our collective ennui.

So, this April Fools' Day, don't just pull a prank on your friends. Pull a prank on reality itself.

Tell your boss you're quitting to become a professional mime. Tell your significant other you've secretly been training to be a competitive cheese sculptor. Tell yourself that everything's going to be okay.

Because let's face it, we're all fools.

We're fools for believing in the promise of a better tomorrow.

We're fools for thinking that a well-placed whoopee cushion can solve all our problems.

But hey, at least we're fools together. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough to get us through another year.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go replace all the salt in my house with sugar.

Because why not? It's April Fools' Day, and nothing matters anymore.

The Due Process The Duterte Lawyers Like

 

Sara Duterte’s lawyers are pitching a wild constitutional remix: they claim investigating her is illegal, yet hurling baseless accusations is totally fine—provided no one actually checks the facts.

Experts describe this doctrine as a de facto, yet unseen, application of due process.”

According to this emerging philosophy, the House of Representatives of the Philippines must initiate impeachment… preferably with eyes closed, ears covered, and absolutely no questions asked. 

Evidence is tricky. If you allow hearings now, you might end up knowing the truth later.

Meanwhile, the Senate of the Philippines is said to be the only place where anything resembling a “trial” may occur—because clearly, gathering facts beforehand is an outrageous violation of procedural purity.

Instead of building a case, why not just go with the flow?

Observers note that the House Committee on Justice has long engaged in hearings, witness testimonies, and evidence review. 

In this transformative era of legal revisionism, legal precedents are seen merely as polite suggestions—similar to speed limits you can always ignore ... or resolutions you don’t have to keep.

Critics of the defense’s argument have pointed out a minor inconsistency: refusing to attend hearings and then complaining about a lack of due process is a bit like skipping class and blaming the teacher for your ignorance. 

But perhaps this, too, is part of the strategy—if you never show up, the process can never technically include you.

There is also growing concern about the potential ripple effects. 

If the Supreme Court of the Philippines were to agree, the impeachment process could be streamlined into a highly efficient system where:

• The House files cases without evidence
• The Senate receives cases without context
• And the public receives explanations… eventually, maybe

Efficiency has never looked so mysterious.

Supporters of the traditional system argue that impeachment was designed with a simple division of labor: the House investigates, the Senate tries. 

Yet, this interpretation dares to defy conventional wisdom, proposing that we simply trust the process to self-correct, leaving investigation behind.

At its core, the debate raises a profound constitutional question: is accountability best achieved through scrutiny—or through carefully avoiding it?

For now, the nation watches as legal arguments evolve in real time, proving once again that in Philippine politics, the Constitution is not just a document—it’s a living text, occasionally rewritten by whoever has the most creative interpretation that week.

Because in the end, why confront evidence when you can redefine it out of existence?

Satire: Did Sara Snub The Supreme Court?

In an impressive show of legal acrobatics, Vice President Sara Duterte has managed to simultaneously be defended by and snub the Supreme Court.

This masterful display of legal maneuvering leaves the nation wondering if she's playing 4D chess (playing on a higher level of complexity as compared to her opponents).

True to the form of any gripping political thriller, this saga kicked off with HOR attempting to impeach the VP.

Remember what they did last summer? 

Apparently, back in the 19th Congress, someone tried to impeach Sara, but Senator Chiz Escudero, in a move that legal scholars are calling "peak Chiz," allegedly delayed the proceedings to give Sara her mission possible as she ran to the Supreme Court for help.

The Supreme Court, bless their robes, stepped in, declaring that Sara deserved a chance to defend herself, even if that meant slowing down the impeachment process to a turtle pace. 

"They argued that she deserved due process ... a legal term likened to an unlimited rice promotional gimmick ...  a pretext for endless excuses."

Others viewed it as a stalling tactic to provide endless justifications ... an  infinite opportunity to explain her actions."

Fast forward to the present day, and the House of Representatives, dutifully following the Supreme Court's instructions, has granted Sara all the "due process" she could possibly want. 

They've scheduled hearings, sent invitations, and even offered to provide her with a complimentary karaoke machine to ease the tension... and back rubs - a good way to soothe impeachment jitters.

But Sara? Sara's a no-show. She's ghosting the Supreme Court. She's leaving them on read.

"We bent over backwards to give her a fair hearing," lamented one anonymous Supreme Court Justice, reportedly while stress-eating a box of polvoron. 

"We practically wrote her defense for her! And this is how she repays us? By not even showing up?"

Meanwhile, Associate Justice Marvic Leonen, known for his sharp wit and even sharper legal mind, is reportedly drafting a strongly worded memo to Sara, reminding her that "due process" is a privilege, not a suggestion.

It is not an optional guideline, convenience, or polite recommendation that can be ignored when it is uncomfortable or inefficient.

"I defended her!" Leonen reportedly exclaimed ... "I argued that she deserved a chance to be heard! 

And now she's just... ignoring us? Is this what I get for believing in the system?"

The question now is: what will the Supreme Court do? 

Will they shrug their shoulders and declare the whole thing a wash and decide to stop trying? Or will they simply abandon the effort entirely?

Without a doubt, Sara Duterte has reduced the Philippine legal system to a reality television spectacle ... and we're all just tuning in to see what happens next.