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.

Trillanes Three Act-Cusations

Welcome back to the latest episode of "Manila Vice: Budget Edition," where the plot lines are as thick as gravy, and the evidence is as elusive as a politician on tax day.

In this week’s cliffhanger, former Senator Antonio Trillanes IV has been cast in the role of the "Two-Million-Dollar Man"—though, unfortunately for him, he doesn't come with bionic limbs or a cool slow-motion running sound effect. 

Instead, he’s allegedly sporting a briefcase full of Zaldy Co’s cash, earmarked specifically for "ICC Tourism and Travel."

The Affidavit: A Heist Without a Movie Deal

At Club Filipino—the traditional venue for Philippine political "Truth Bombs" and really good catering—Atty. Levi Baligod dropped a script that would make Hollywood blush.

According to an affidavit by former Marine soldiers (who apparently moonlight as high-stakes couriers), they delivered $2 million to Trillanes. 

That’s roughly 115 million pesos, or, in Philippine political terms, "a modest down payment on a legacy."

Critics are asking the tough questions:

• How do you carry $2 million in cash without getting a hernia?

• Was it delivered in a duffel bag, or did they use those reusable grocery bags to be environmentally conscious?

• Does the ICC accept GCash?

The Trillanes Counter-Attack: "Lechon-Gate"

Trillanes, never one to miss a cue for a dramatic monologue, responded with the poise of a man who has been accused of everything except being "too quiet."

"I’ve faced worse!" he essentially declared. "People once said I took the last skin off the lechon at a wedding! This $2 million rumor is just the side dish to my main course of justice!"

He’s not just denying the claims; he’s filing cyberlibel cases like they’re party invitations. 

He’s suing 18 ex-soldiers, Mike Defensor, and Levi Baligod. 

At this rate, the court docket will look like a high school reunion where everyone is trying to get everyone else arrested.

The Logistics of Corruption

Let’s look at the "math" of this political thriller:

Item	Estimated Cost	Political Value
ICC Investigation	$2,000,000	Priceless (or 20 years to life)
Cyberlibel Filings	A few thousand pesos	A great way to spend a Tuesday
A Good Wi-Fi Connection	2,500/month	Essential for filing cases from the sofa
The Truth	???	Currently "Out of Stock"

The Grand Finale: A Circus Without a Tent

As the smoke clears (or just shifts to a different part of the room), we are left with a classic Philippine standoff. 

On one side, we have soldiers claiming they played "The Transporter" for a senator. 

On the other, we have a senator claiming he’s just a humble crusader who only needs high-speed internet and the sweet, sweet sound of a gavel.

Meanwhile, the Filipino public is sitting in the front row, wondering if we can get a refund on our tickets. 

We were promised a political drama, but we’re increasingly getting a "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" special where the facts are made up and the $2 million doesn't matter.

Stay tuned for next week's episode, where we discover that the money was actually hidden inside a giant balut shell, and the only witness is a karaoke machine that refuses to testify without a lawyer.

Mini Me

In this latest installment of “Genetic Engineering for Geopolitics,” we take a look at the most terrifying scientific breakthrough since the invention of sugar-free chocolate: The Duterte Clone Army.

According to Atty. Joel Butuyan, the former President, didn’t just leave behind a legacy; he literally left behind himself.

 Millions of him. It’s a bold claim that suggests the Philippine national budget wasn't just going to infrastructure, but was quietly funding a sprawling, underground laboratory where the primary goal was mass-producing a specific brand of "swagger."

The Science of the "Mini-Me"

Forget the International Criminal Court for a moment. We should be calling the Nobel Prize committee. 

If Butuyan is right, Rodrigo Duterte has achieved what the world’s top geneticists could only dream of: he has successfully converted "peace-loving citizens" into "bloodthirsty disciples" through what we can only assume is a mix of high-frequency late-night monologues and a very potent virus of "impunity."

Imagine the technical specifications of these clones:

• Standard Issue Equipment: One oversized barong, one pair of aviators, and a complete lack of patience for due process.

• Pre-Programmed Phrases: "I will kill you," "My God, I hate drugs," and "Is there any rice left?"

• Special Ability: Can withstand 48 hours of uninterrupted karaoke without losing their voice.

The Hague: Attack of the Clones

As the confirmation of charges hearing unfolds at the ICC in 2026, the atmosphere is tense. 

There is a palpable fear that at any moment, the courtroom doors will burst open and a legion of clones will swarm the judges, not with weapons, but with a series of confusing metaphors about fish and jetskis.

Atty. Butuyan’s warning is clear: these "mini-Dutertes" are everywhere. 

They’re in the Senate, they’re in the Governor’s mansion, and they’re probably at your local Jollibee, aggressively asking for extra gravy. 

The lawyer claims even Filipino expatriates in The Hague have been infected, turning the peaceful streets of the Netherlands into a scene from Resident Evil, but with more finger-pointing.

The "Truth Vaccine"

Butuyan has proposed a solution: a "Truth Vaccine." 

While most vaccines require a needle and a cold storage unit, this one is apparently delivered via "legal testimony." 

It’s an ambitious medical trial. The theory is that if a clone is exposed to enough evidence of "brazen inhumanity," their genetic programming will short-circuit, and they will suddenly remember how to use a turn signal and respect human rights.

"We need to inoculate them!" Butuyan insists. "One dose of 'Exhibit A' and two boosters of 'Witness Testimony' should clear up that bloodthirstiness right away!"

A Dystopian Masterpiece

Whether these clones are literal biological copies or just people who have watched way too many Facebook Live videos, the imagery is undeniably cinematic. 

We are no longer watching a political proceeding; we are watching a sci-fi epic where the protagonist is a mountain of subpoenas and the villain is a metastasizing "virus of impunity."

So, as we wait for the ICC’s decision, keep an eye on your neighbors. 

If you see someone suddenly develop an urge to declare war on an inanimate object or start referring to themselves in the third person as "The Punisher," don't panic. 

They might just be a clone.

(Note: The post is only a satire. Satire - the use of humor, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people's stupidity and actions, particularly in the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues.)

Senator Marcoleta and His Quest to Straighten The Crooked World

In a revelation that has shaken the foundations of Philippine governance to their very crooked roots, Senator Rodante Marcoleta has confessed a burden so heavy, so exhausting, that it practically disqualifies him from higher office. 

When asked if he intended to run as Vice President Sara Duterte's running mate in 2028, the Senator did not simply say "no." 

He issued a distress call from the frontlines of reality itself.

"Napakarami kong itutuwid ngayon," he declared. (I have so many things to straighten out now.)

This is not merely a policy statement. This is a cosmological crisis. 

According to Senator Marcoleta, the Philippines is not just suffering from corruption or inefficiency; it is suffering from a severe lack of vertical alignment. The world is bent, and he is the only man with a plumb line.

*****The Atlas Complex

Consider the sheer logistics of this mission. 

The Senator is not merely legislating; he is engaged in a one-man campaign of geometric correction. 

While other senators are busy passing laws or approving budgets, Marcoleta is reportedly running around Manila with a giant ruler, smacking crooked thoughts back into straight lines.

"Hirap na hirap ako eh," he admitted. (I'm having a very hard time.)

One can only imagine the physical toll. To "straighten out" the mistakes of the Senate, the Supreme Court, and various public institutions implies that every other branch of government is operating at a 45-degree angle of error. 

It paints a picture of a nation careening toward chaos, held back from total structural collapse only by the sheer willpower of one man from Partylist Ating Koop.

If the Senator is this tired now, one wonders how he managed to sit through committee hearings without collapsing from the weight of all the "wrongness" in the room.

***** The Hit List of the Bent

In a move that has surely sent shivers down the spines of the capital's elite, Senator Marcoleta released a partial inventory of the things requiring his immediate straightening iron. 

It reads less like a political agenda and more like a teacher's grade book after a particularly disastrous midterm exam.

-Justice Carpio: Bent. Needs straightening.

-Senator Ping (Lacson): Bent. Needs straightening.

-Commissioner Tarriela: Bent. Needs straightening.

-Executive Secretary Batongbacal: Bent. Needs straightening.

-Senator Tol (Tulfo): Partially bent. Needs partial straightening.

And we still have to mention Risa Hontiveros, Bam Aquino, Sonny Trillanes, Tito Sotto, and Kiko Pangilinan waiting in the sidelines.

The implication is staggering. These are men who have spent decades in law, enforcement, and governance. 

Yet, according to the Senator, they are all walking around spreading "mali" (wrongness) like confetti. 

It suggests that the Senator possesses a unique form of moral vision, a kind of "True Sight" that allows him to detect deviations in truth that escape the common eye.

One has to ask: Did these mistakes happen on his watch? If the Senate is full of errors requiring correction, isn't he part of the Senate? 

Or is he like a plumber who claims the pipes were already broken when he arrived, despite having lived in the house for years?

***** The 2028 Non-Denial Denial

The context of this confession is crucial. He was asked about the Vice Presidency. 

His response? "I'm too busy fixing everyone else to lead everyone else."

It is the ultimate political humblebrag. It says: "I am not running for Vice President because I am too busy doing the Vice President's job, plus the Supreme Court's job, plus the Senate's job, plus the job of every public official who ever made a mistake."

He forgot to include his lawyering job for the Discayas ... and being the protector of the Chinese embassy.

By claiming he is too preoccupied with correcting the errors of Justices and Senators, he subtly positions himself as the only competent adult in the room. 

Why vote for him in 2028 when he is already doing everyone's job for free in 2024? 

It's a brilliant strategy. If he wins, he can say he reluctantly accepted the burden. 

If he loses, he can say he was too busy saving the nation from itself to campaign.

***** The Danger of a Straight World

However, citizens should be wary of what happens if Senator Marcoleta succeeds. If he manages to "ituwid lahat ang mga mali" (straighten out all the wrongs), what will be left?

A world without errors is a world without flexibility. 

If Justice Carpio is straightened, will he still be able to turn his head? 

If Senator Ping is straightened, will he lose his characteristic squint? 

There is a risk that in his quest for perfect alignment, the Senator might straighten the country right into a rigid stick, devoid of the beautiful, chaotic curvature that makes Philippine politics so... lively.

***** A Hero's Exhaustion

For now, we must respect the Senator's exhaustion. "Dito ngayon ako abalang-abala," he said. (I am very busy right here.)

He is not interested in the Vice Presidency. He is not interested in power grabs. 

He is too busy wielding the metaphysical broom of truth, sweeping up the dust of errors left by Justices and Senators alike.

So, let us wish him luck. He has a tall order. He plans to fix the Senate, the Court, and the Executive branch single-handedly.

And he thinks that is hard? Just wait until he tries to fix the traffic on EDSA.

Until then, the 2028 election remains open. 

Unless, of course, the Senator decides that the ballot boxes themselves are slightly crooked and need to be straightened out too.

The 2028 Reboot: Because Every Horror Movie Deserves A sequel

Just when you thought it was safe to delete your news apps, Vice President Sara Duterte has officially hit the "New Game" button on the 2028 Presidential Elections. 

While most people are still trying to figure out how to pay their 2026 electric bills, the VP is already measuring the curtains in Malacañang—proving that in Philippine politics, the future is now, and the present is just a long, awkward commercial break.

Critics are already calling it a "trap," but let’s be honest: in the Philippines, we don't just fall for traps; we build resorts around them and give them a 4.5-star rating on TripAdvisor.

1. The National Pastime: Electoral "Ulit-Ulit"

There is a theory that Filipino voters have the collective memory of a goldfish... specifically a goldfish that has been distracted by a very catchy campaign jingle and a ₱500 "transportation allowance."

We don't just repeat history; we remaster it.

• The 2016 Era: "Change is coming!" (Spoiler: It came, it saw, it used a lot of water cannons).

• The 2022 Era: "Unity!" (Unity lasted roughly as long as a Shopee 'Buy 1 Get 1' deal).

• The 2028 Era: "The Return of the Daughter!"

It’s like an endless teleserye where the villain is revealed to be the long-lost twin of the previous hero, and the audience still gasps in surprise even though they’ve seen all 4,000 episodes.

2. The "Stupidity" vs. "High-Concept Hope" Debate

Lamenting the "stupidity" of the Pinoy voter is so 20th century. Let’s rebrand it! It’s not "folly"; it’s Extreme Optimism. 

It takes a special kind of courage to look at a politician’s track record—full of controversies, impeachment threats, and "confidential" receipts that are harder to find than a parking spot in BGC—and say: "You know what? This time, I’m sure they mean it when they say they love me."

Red Flag	Voter Interpretation
Impeachment Trial	"They're just jealous of her charisma."
Confidential Funds	"It’s a surprise party for the nation! We just haven't been invited yet."
Aggressive Rhetoric	"She’s so authentic! It’s like being shouted at by my own Tita."

---

3. The Variety Show Mandate

Why vote for someone who can explain the Tax Reform for Acceleration and Inclusion (TRAIN) Law when you can vote for someone who can win a TikTok dance challenge?

In the Philippines, a platform is just that wooden thing candidates stand on to sing Bakit Ngayon Ka Lang. 

If a candidate can't do a split or at least tell a joke about their opponents' "weakness," are they even qualified to lead a nuclear-adjacent nation? 

We don't want a "President"; we want a Season Finale.

4. Selective Amnesia: The Ultimate Superpower

The Filipino voter has mastered the "Delete History" button.

• Year 1: "We are being bullied at sea!"

• Year 3: "Wait, who is bullying us again? Was it the guys who gave us those cool bridges?"

• Year 6: "I miss the old guys. They were 'tough'."

This chameleon-like ability to forget past misdeeds ensures that every election is a Rebranding Festival. 

It’s the only time a "Wolf Warrior" can put on a Barong, smile for a selfie, and suddenly become a "Guardian of the People."

The 2028 Warning Label

If history is a teacher, the Filipino classroom has a serious "cutting classes" problem. 

We are currently standing at the edge of the 2028 "trap," and we’re already arguing about who gets to hold the camera while we jump.

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Philippine Politics is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a dance number."

Satire: Duterte’s Clones: The Unlikely Army of Bloodthirsty Disciples

In a stunning revelation that could easily be the plot of a sci-fi thriller, Atty. Joel Butuyan has claimed that former President Rodrigo Duterte has created an army of clones.

Yes, you heard that right—clones! Forget about the usual political scandals; we’re diving into the realm of genetic engineering and dystopian nightmares, where peace-loving Filipinos have been transformed into a legion of bloodthirsty disciples, all thanks to the magic of Duterte’s cloning technology.

Picture this: a dark laboratory somewhere in the Philippines, where Duterte, clad in a lab coat and goggles, is busy mixing potions and pressing buttons on a high-tech machine. “Let there be clones!” he shouts, as the lights flicker and smoke fills the room.

Out pop thousands of identical Duterte clones, each one sporting the same signature smirk and a penchant for violence.

“Now, go forth and spread the gospel of bloodshed!” he commands, waving his hands like a mad scientist in a B-movie.

According to Atty. Butuyan, these clones have not only taken on the physical appearance of Duterte but have also absorbed his philosophy that violence is a valid solution to societal problems.

It’s like a twisted version of “The Sound of Music,” where instead of singing about raindrops on roses, the clones are belting out anthems of aggression and intimidation.

“These clones are out there harassing victims of the drug war,” Butuyan claims, “and they’re doing it with the enthusiasm of a kid on a sugar rush!”

Imagine the horror of being a victim of the drug war, only to find yourself being stalked by a group of Duterte clones, each one more menacing than the last.

“Oh no, not another clone!” you might think, as they approach with their intimidating swagger and a threatening glare.

“I just wanted to live in peace!” But alas, the clones are relentless, convinced that the only way to solve problems is through intimidation and fear.

Who needs conflict resolution when you have a battalion of clones ready to do your dirty work?

Butuyan’s assertion raises some pressing questions. Are these clones sentient beings, or are they simply mindless drones programmed to follow Duterte’s every command?

Do they have feelings? Do they ever sit around and ponder the meaning of life, or are they too busy plotting their next act of intimidation?

Perhaps they gather in secret meetings, sipping coffee and discussing their favorite methods of harassment.

“I prefer the subtle approach,” one clone might say, “while I like to go in guns blazing!”

As the confirmation of charges hearing at the International Criminal Court (ICC) unfolds, the world watches with bated breath.

Will the ICC take this cloning revelation seriously? Will they summon the clones for questioning?

“Excuse me, Mr. Clone, can you tell us where you were on the night of the alleged intimidation?”

The clones, with their identical expressions, might respond in unison, “We were just following orders!”

Ultimately, whether Duterte has actually created clones is a matter of debate.

But one thing is certain: the idea of an army of bloodthirsty clones adds a layer of absurdity to an already chaotic political landscape.

So, let’s raise a glass to the bizarre world of Philippine politics, where the line between reality and fiction is as thin as a Duterte clone’s patience for peaceful dialogue.

Here’s hoping that someday, we’ll all wake up from this strange nightmare and find ourselves in a world where clones are just a figment of our imagination—and not a reality we have to face every day.

(Note: The post is only a satire. Satire - the use of humor, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people's stupidity and actions, particularly in the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues.)

Satire: The Canonization of Senator Antonio Trillanes

Move over, Jose Rizal. Put down the pen, Andres Bonifacio.

 There is a new face ready to be chiseled into the side of Mount Binakayan, and he comes with a crisp barong and a stack of filed plunder cases.

We are living in the era of The Indorruptible One: Senator Antonio Trillanes IV.

While some people are busy arguing over "evidence" and "affidavits" involving $2 million delivery bags, the true believers know the reality. 

We are witnessing the rise of a man so morally fortified that if you offered him a suitcase full of "digit money"—a sum so large it requires a scientific calculator to display—he would simply point to the nearest ICC office and ask for their Wi-Fi password.

The Temptation of the "Digit Money"

Legend has it that the pro-Duterte forces once approached the Senator with a bribe so massive it had more zeros than a failing grade in a calculus class. 

They said, "Senator, please, take this mountain of gold and stop filing cases against PRRD. Go buy an island. Go buy a small European country. Just stop the paperwork!"

But did our Modern Hero flinch? No. 

He didn’t even blink. He looked at that "digit money" and saw only scrap paper. 

To Trillanes, a billion pesos is just a light snack compared to the delicious, soul-satisfying taste of a Cyberlibel Filing.

"Keep your digits," he likely shouted, his voice echoing through the halls of justice like a dramatic Filipino soap opera climax. "I have something more powerful than money: A photocopier that never runs out of ink!"

The History Books of 2075

Fast forward fifty years. Your grandchildren are sitting in a classroom, hovering on their anti-gravity desks. 

The teacher opens the holobook to Chapter 14: "The Great Paperwork Rebellion."

• Lesson 1: How to occupy an Oakwood hotel with style and grace.

• Lesson 2: The art of the "Trillanes Glare"—a look so intense it can make a witness forget their own middle name.

• Lesson 3: Why $2 million is actually a very small amount of money when you are busy saving the soul of a nation.

Children will be required to memorize his legendary speeches.

 Instead of "Mi Ultimo Adios," they will recite "I Will File Cases Against All 18 of You." 

It’s poetry for the modern age. It’s a legacy that isn't built on monuments, but on a literal mountain of subpoenas.

The Legacy: A Hero for All Time

In a world of politicians who flip-flop like a pair of worn-out slippers, Trillanes is the steady combat boot of justice. 

He is the man who looks at a bribe and says, "Is this tax-deductible? No? Then I'll see you in court!"

He is the modern-day hero we deserve. 

He doesn't need a cape; he just needs a subpoena and a very brave legal team. 

While others are out there "serving the people," Trillanes is out there saving the people from themselves, one press conference at a time.

So, for those who don't like him now: just wait. 

In the future, every Filipino household will have a small altar dedicated to the man who couldn't be bought, couldn't be silenced, and apparently couldn't be stopped by anything short of a total national paper shortage.