In the grand theater of divine appointments, Pastor Apollo Quiboloy has graciously bestowed upon himself the title of the “appointed son of God.” 

One can’t help but marvel at the audacity of this divine self-appointment, which rivals even the most celestial of celestial nominations. As we ponder this revelation, it prompts a delightful exploration into the fine demarcation between religion and cult. 

While religions typically revolve around beliefs in the supernatural, cults tend to feature an unwavering devotion to a singular leader or peculiar set of doctrines. Quiboloy’s Kingdom of Jesus Christ certainly seems to fit snugly into the latter category, with its fervent allegiance to its esteemed leader and his divine proclamations. 

So, let us applaud Quiboloy for boldly blurring the lines between the divine and the delusional, as he leads his devoted followers on a celestial journey where the boundaries of faith and fanaticism intertwine in delightful confusion.

In the age of digital duels, the keyboard warriors have sharpened their swords not with steel but with a thesaurus. With a flick of their fingers, they unleash a barrage of highfalutin words, attempting to dress up their arguments like a peacock in a tuxedo. 

Suddenly, a simple meal of salad and bread becomes an “extravagant feast,” as if tossing lettuce and slicing baguettes were akin to summoning culinary magic. And don’t even get them started on prized dinnerware; apparently, using fine china is now a declaration of royal lineage, reserved only for occupants of palaces.

But hold on a minute. Last time I checked, expensive chinaware wasn’t a status symbol exclusive to the Malacañang Palace elite. It’s more of a hand-me-down tradition in Filipino households, passed from Lola to Mom to you, not a symbol of opulence but of sentimental value. 

So, to all the keyboard knights wielding their verbose vocabulary like a blunt instrument: maybe it’s time to trade the thesaurus for some common sense.