Satire: DDS Fetish With The Marines: A Masterclass In Scriotwriting

Welcome to the latest blockbuster production from the DDS Cinematic Universe (DDS-CU). 

Their newest feature, “The 2 Million Dollar Man and the Time-Traveling Senator,” has just premiered at a press conference near you. 

It’s a bold, avant-garde piece of fiction that challenges the very fabric of linear time, basic arithmetic, and the HR records of the Philippine Navy.

The script, penned by the ever-imaginative DDS high priests and his cast of "concerned citizens," features a daring heist involving suitcases of cash (male-maleta pa ha). 

The target? Former Senator Leila de Lima.

According to this visionary screenplay, De Lima was spotted in Congress in 2024, graciously accepting bags of money from Zaldy Co. 

There is, however, a minor "continuity error" that only a buzzkill would point out: In 2024, De Lima was still very much a resident of a detention cell, and she wasn't elected to Congress until July 2025. 

But why let a calendar ruin a perfectly good character assassination? 

Perhaps the "suitcases of money" were actually portable wormholes? 

Or maybe the witnesses simply have "Prophetic Vision™," allowing them to see crimes that have not happened yet  ... in a building de Lima has not been to .... at all. 

It’s not a lie; it’s pre-emptive fan fiction.

Wait... there's another issue ... why the DDS fetish on the Marines?

One must admire the scriptwriters' absolute obsession—nay, fetish—with the Philippine Marines. It’s always an "ex-Marine" or a "disgruntled soldier" popping out of the woodwork like a tactical jack-in-the-box.

One has to wonder:

• Where is the Philippine Air Force? Are they too busy flying to participate in clandestine cash deliveries?

• What about the Army? Are their camo patterns not cinematic enough for a press conference?

• The SAF? Too busy with actual duties?

Instead, we get a returning cast of "Marines" who were either kicked out for "extracurricular villainy" or, in some cases, were never actually Marines to begin with. 

It’s a specific aesthetic—the "Eskalawag Chic." 

It’s as if the casting call specifically asked for: "Must look intimidating in a barong and possess a memory that conveniently ignores dates and physics."

The most fascinating part of this "orchestrated demolition job" is the legal strategy. 

If you had proof of a multi-million dollar bribery scandal involving the ICC and high-ranking officials, you would normally take that to a court of law.

But in the DDS-CU, the Press Conference is the Supreme Court. 

Why file a case with a judge who might ask for "evidence" or "consistent timelines" when you can just talk to a camera? 

If it’s true, why isn't Defensor and his ilk sprinting to the Ombudsman?

The answer is simple: Chaos is the goal, and disinformation is the fuel. 

And making matters worse are the "gullible" DDS audience members, where these stories become gospel the moment they hit TikTok. 

It doesn’t matter if the math doesn't add up ($2M + 2024 Prison Cell = Error 404). 

In this bizarre world, the more desperate the lie, the more "patriotic" it feels to believe it.

While the rest of the country is struggling with inflation and real-world problems, these "moneyed politicians" are busy playing Creative Writing: Sabotage Edition. 

They aren't trying to save the country; they’re trying to cover their tracks with a layer of absurdity so thick that the truth gets lost in the fog.

In conclusion: If you’re looking for a logical, fact-based investigation, you’ve come to the wrong place. 

But if you want a sci-fi thriller about time-traveling politicians and an endless supply of disgraced Marines with bags of cash, grab your popcorn. 

The script might be failing, but the desperation is award-winning.