Vice President Sara Duterte’s latest venture into children’s literature has certainly sparked more drama than bedtime stories.
With a modest request for P10 million to distribute a book that suspiciously echoes an existing series, one might wonder if the “banahaw” leaves it features are as imaginary as the budget needed. Critics were quick to point out the glaring errors in grammar, but hey, who needs proper language when you’ve got “good intentions,” right?
In an amusing twist, a book author—who hadn’t even read the book—lavished praise on its lofty goals. Because nothing says quality like blind endorsement! Sadly, as the saying goes, the road to confusing the minds of our future generation is paved with… well, let’s just say “good intentions.”
Maybe next time, they’ll opt for real leaves and real editors. But for now, we’re left with a P10 million fairy tale that’s anything but enchanting.
VP Inday Sara Duterte’s latest move is nothing short of genius—self-publishing a children’s book to subtly reinforce her political ambitions, all while avenging her critics.
The book, which costs taxpayers some P10 million, is clearly a masterpiece in strategic branding. When Senator Risa Hontiveros innocently questioned the book’s content, Duterte didn’t miss a beat, resurrecting old political dramas as though they were yesterday’s news.
But why stop there? In response to the backlash, she’s now promising a sequel on how to be a “traitor to your friends”—a lesson she’s presumably well-versed in. Surely, these are the kind of moral values we want to instill in our children. Why bother with stories about honesty or bravery when you can teach kids how to navigate the cutthroat world of politics before they can even spell “senator”? Truly, Duterte is ahead of her time.
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.
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