By Vicky Lays and Marga Juice
Following the dramatic arrest of Roadrigaur DoDirty, former kingpin of the “War on the Drag” campaign, many Filipinos are now asking: Where is MoreCost? The man who once promised a golden age of unity—delivering only golden priced onions instead— had vanished faster than the country’s emergency funds.
Reports indicate that MoreCost was last seen enjoying a lavish vacation in a “strategically undisclosed location,” rumored to be a mansion equipped with a golden karaoke machine playing “Bagoong Pilipinas, Lumang Problema.”
A Palace spokesperson dismissed the speculations, stating, “The president remains fully engaged in governance and economic planning.” However, this statement has done little to quell public curiosity.
According to reliable sources, MoreCost is busy devising a master plan: renaming the nation’s trillion-peso debt into something more palatable– “Investment ng Bayan.”
MoreCost’s last major speech focused on “strengthening the economy,” but critics argue that these pronouncements have yet to translate into visible improvements for ordinary Filipinos.
Meanwhile, DoDirty has been ranting from his holding cell and singing “Happy birthday” to himself.
MoreCost, however, remains eerily silent, except for sporadic public appearances where he talks about strengthening the economy—right before hopping onto his presidential jet, rumored to go and watch his grand prix.
Filipinos, left wondering about the direction of the nation, have taken to social media.
“Why is our President missing in action? Is he in an international meeting, or just stuck in traffic caused by his own unfinished infrastructure projects?” one netizen quipped.
Another asked, “Nagde-deepfake na ba siya ng sarili niya para magmukhang busy?”
As MoreCost continues his game of hide-and-seek, the nation holds its breath—hoping that when he finally emerges, it won’t be just to inaugurate another overpriced onion or tomato.
Until then, the people wait, wallets empty, hoping their president is at least using a budget-friendly sunscreen while basking in the glow of taxpayers’ money.
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DISCLAIMER: This is part of the Weekly Sillimanian’s lampoon issue. Any real, semi-real, or similar names, places, people, products, services, and locales are used purely for satirical purposes, and the corresponding details are purely fictional. Content published during the lampoon period is to be considered satire, parody, surrealism, and humor.
