In a spectacular display of modern fiscal wisdom, netizens have rallied around the innovative idea of giving the Office of the Vice President (OVP) a zero budget after Sara Duterte’s masterclass in dodging questions at the House of Representatives.
Critics, missing the true art of politics, have labeled her as arrogant, self-entitled, and disrespectful—clearly mistaking these as flaws rather than the essential qualities of high office. Representative France Castro even likened her to a squid, but why stop there? A squid only releases ink when under pressure, while our Vice President managed to do so while basking in a House inquiry.
The Adobo Chronicles, ever the beacon of financial prudence, advocates for a more generous P1 budget. After all, why waste the government’s precious ink on an office that could run just as well with a single coin? Austerity, thy name is genius!
In a display of masterful evasion, Vice President Sara Duterte took to the Senate floor, not to answer questions about her P10 million book budget, but to give a history lesson no one asked for.
When Senator Risa Hontiveros inquired about the contents of this mysterious literary masterpiece, Duterte deftly dodged, instead digging up old political grudges. It’s as if she thought the budget hearing was a reunion of Pugad Baboy—more drama than actual discussion. To top it off, she called Hontiveros disrespectful for daring to expect an answer.
Ah, the irony! Apparently, the real disrespect is not in sidestepping a co-equal branch of government but in being asked a question in the first place. Perhaps Duterte’s book is indeed a thriller—it seems to be full of twists, turns, and missing pages. If only it had an author who knew what the plot was supposed to be.
Senator Robin Padilla’s valiant crusade to subpoena terrorists for a Senate probe is nothing short of heroic.
Imagine the leaders of the CPP-NPA nervously receiving their subpoenas, debating whether to swap their jungle fatigues for barongs before facing Padilla’s fearless grilling.
In this bold plan, Padilla seems to offer a unique take on the justice system—why chase terrorists in the mountains when you can simply summon them to the Senate? Surely, the terrorists will tremble at the thought of facing Padilla’s tough questions, perhaps more so than the military’s bullets. And what of the full protection he offers during the probe? A masterstroke! Once in the Senate’s hallowed halls, they’ll be so safe, they might never leave—detained for contempt, naturally.
Robin Padilla’s strategy is both brilliant and courageous—one can almost hear the terrorists shaking in their boots, waiting for that subpoena to arrive.
The Adobo Chronicles 
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