The impeachment of Vice President Sara Duterte has brought out the best in the nation’s fake news factories, with Maharlika and Sass Rogando Sasot—our beloved keyboard warriors abroad—leading the charge. According to them, duffle bags of cash have been handed out like party favors to Congressmen who endorsed the complaint. What’s next? A piñata filled with gold bars at Batasang Pambansa?
Cagayan de Oro Representative Lordan Suan has now become the star of fake quote cards, allegedly promising that impeachment = more ayuda for his constituents. So now, good governance is apparently a “cash-back rewards” program?
So what shall we expect next from the fake news peddlers? That all 215 legislators who voted for impeachment were each gifted a Rolls Royce?
If we follow this logic, they’ll be getting private jets next week and personal islands by Christmas! At this rate, fake news peddlers might as well report that Congress has been turned into a luxury car showroom.
In the grand circus of fake news, the ringleaders—the so-called “truth twisters”—always deliver a show-stopping act. Their latest headliner? A former president boldly claiming that President Bongbong Marcos signed a national budget with blank figures, as if the government were a cheap magician pulling numbers from thin air. Who falls for this? Only the gullible and those who think Excel spreadsheets are sorcery.
Sure, corruption has its sneaky ways, and some politicians are masters of subtle deception. But a blank budget? That’s like leaving the cookie jar open and expecting a child to resist. It insults not just the public’s intelligence but also the 5th graders who, frankly, know better.
Fake news peddlers, take note: if you’re going to cook up stories, at least add some seasoning of believability. Otherwise, your audience might downgrade you from “fake news” to “comedy skit rejects.”
Raissa Robles, self-proclaimed investigative writer and proud author of one book, recently donned her internet sleuth hat to criticize the girl group Phantom Siita, claiming they were “Filipinos trying to look like Koreans.” The irony? Phantom Siita isn’t Filipino or Korean—the group is Japanese! Yes, Japanese, as in sushi, not kimchi or adobo.
One can only wonder if Robles’ investigative skills stopped short of typing “Phantom Siita nationality” into Google. Or perhaps she was too busy plotting her next groundbreaking exposé: “Filipinos Trying to Be Swiss While Eating Toblerone.”
This mishap is a gentle reminder that a writer’s most powerful tool is research—preferably done before hitting “post.” If Robles wants to critique cultural appropriation, she might first need a crash course in geography and modern pop culture. Phantom Siita, meanwhile, continues to slay stages, blissfully unbothered.
The Adobo Chronicles 
You must be logged in to post a comment.