https://videopress.com/v/hPvgHg2c?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&preloadContent=metadata&useAverageColor=true

In this age of endless copies, what defines the real?

Is it the document pre-screenshot, the paper you can feel?

Authenticity, elusive beast, like shadows on the wall,

Is it in the ink that dried, or pixels, large and small?

Is it found in punch hole marks, like ancient scars on flesh,

Or in the very first printout, before the ink was fresh?

A photocopy of a copy, in a spiral down the drain,

Each version more diluted, each image less the same.

The notary may stamp and seal, the paper gets embossed,

Yet with each scan and print and save, the truth seems ever lost.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave in search of what is true,

Authenticity’s a mystery, like déjà vu’s déjà vu.

So here’s the jest, dear reader, in this digital melee:

Authenticity’s a ghost we chase, a game we love to play.

In a riveting display of performative bureaucracy, the Senate committee hearing on the alleged PDEA leaks transformed into a circus of impeccable credibility. 

PDEA solemnly swore that Bongbong Marcos has never graced the narco list, making one wonder if the real investigation should target those nefarious peddlers of fake news. 

Meanwhile, St. Luke’s Hospital heroically vouched for the president’s pristine 2021 cocaine test results. 

Clearly, with such ironclad endorsements, there’s nothing left to probe but our own sanity. Should we now absolve all drug convicts as martyrs of misinformation? And what of St. Luke’s patients, now casting suspicious glances at their own medical reports? 

The logical conclusion, of course, is to dismantle all Senate committees and replace them with a national trust-building workshop. After all, if we can’t rely on these esteemed institutions, who can we trust? Let’s embrace chaos and let the truth fend for itself.