Like what the great action king Fernando Poe Jr. once said,
āKapag puno na ang salop, dapat nang kalusin.ā
And brother, this salop? Itās overflowing.
Not with rice, but with rage, rot, and receipts.
The kind of receipts that smell like floodwater and backroom deals.
The kind that scream āweāve had enough.ā
Look around. The floods aināt just water. Theyāre warnings.
Divine memos from the Most High, soaking our sins,
drowning our silence.
Every submerged barangay, every rooftop rescue,
every mother clutching her child in waist-deep water
thatās not just climate change. Thatās karma.
Thatās what happens when trillions meant for flood control
vanish into the pockets of politicians
who build ghost projects and concrete dreams
that collapse at the first drop of rain.
And the people? Theyāre mad.
Not the kind of mad that trends on Twitter for a day.
Iām talking about the kind of mad that simmers in the gut.
The kind that remembers.
The kind that donāt forget who smiled for the cameras
while the streets turned into rivers and the poor turned into statistics.
But hereās the bitter pill: we canāt magic-wand our way out of this.
No fairy godmotherās coming. No Avengers.
No messiah in a barong. What we got is three years.
Three long, painful, flood-soaked, corruption-stained years.
And then 2028.
Thatās the year. The fork in the road. The do or die.
The last call before the lights go out.
Because if we mess this up again,
if we vote with our stomachs instead of our souls,
if we fall for the same jingles, the same dynasties,
the same recycled promises then we aināt just doomed.
Weāre complicit.
So what do we do? We remember.
We remember the names on those SALNs that didnāt add up.
We remember the bridges that led nowhere, the dikes that broke,
the billions that disappeared.
We remember the kids who didnāt make it out of the floods.
We remember that āvote wiselyā aināt just a slogan itās a survival tactic.
We do our homework. We analyze. We think.
We stop treating elections like a popularity contest
and start treating them like what they areā¦
a battlefield for the soul of this country.
We vote not for who makes us feel good,
but for who makes sense.
We vote with our eyes open, our hearts clear,
and our fists clenched around the truth.
Because 2028 aināt just another election.
Itās a resurrection. Or a requiem.
And the choice? Itās ours.
Posted by rockwitralph 
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