It’s that time of year again. The filing of Certificates of Candidacy for the 2025 midterm elections has gone full swing, ending last Tuesday with scenes much like a political version of “Groundhog Day.”

Same faces. Same political dynasties. Same comedians, actors, and ex-uniformed men strutting into the election arena like it’s a circus, where they’ve got VIP tickets for life. You almost want to ask: Can the Filipino people get a respite from this endless carousel of clowns?

Let’s start with the usual suspects — ahem — political families. You know them, you’ve seen them, and you’re about to see them again, because they’re not going anywhere.

It’s like these political dynasties are playing a giant game of Monopoly, but instead of passing “Go,” they’re just passing power between family members. Forget about the anti-dynasty law; that thing might as well be a unicorn, a mythical creature we talk about but never actually see.

The only dynasty law that seems to be working here is “Keep it in the family!”

Then we’ve got the comedians — both literal and metaphorical. Every election, a few funny men (and women) come out of the woodwork, seeking their five minutes of political fame.

It’s as if they think running for office is their next big comedy special. The real joke? Some of them actually get elected. Forget campaigning on real issues; just tell a couple of jokes, shake some hands, and voila! You might just find yourself in the Senate. Who needs a political platform when you can ride on charisma and a viral meme or two?

And speaking of viral, let’s not forget the actors and celebrities lining up to file their candidacies like it’s an audition for a blockbuster movie. Their qualifications? “Well, I was in that one movie that made everyone cry 20 years ago, so now I can totally make policy decisions for millions of people.”

Now, onto the former military men and policemen entering politics. If you thought your ballot would be free of anyone dressed in fatigues, think again! Apparently, being an expert in law enforcement or battle tactics is all the training you need to run an entire province or draft laws for the Senate.

“I led a battalion, so now I’m ready to lead the country!” It’s all very comforting, really, knowing the people who once arrested jaywalkers are now going to be arresting economic downturns. Or trying to.

But let’s be real — this circus wouldn’t be complete without the clowns, and boy, do we have them in abundance. You know the ones I’m talking about. The ones who file their candidacies with no clear platform, no qualifications, and no real shot at winning, but they’re there anyway, grinning for the cameras.

These are the folks you see on TV, and your first reaction is, “Wait, they’re running for office? Is this a joke?” Sadly, no. It’s not a joke. It’s the great Filipino electoral tradition — where anyone and everyone can throw their hat into the ring, regardless of whether that hat belongs in politics or the nearest comedy club.

Can’t the Filipino people catch a break from this endless parade of recycled politicians, wannabe celebrities, and bored ex-cops? It’s like a never-ending variety show, and no one’s changing the channel. The problem, of course, is that it’s not just entertainment. It’s the future of the country at stake. But hey, why take politics seriously when you can make it a spectacle instead?

So here we are, once again, watching the circus roll into town. The political ringmasters are back, and the clowns are already juggling their candidacies, hoping to get your vote. The question is, will the Filipino electorate keep buying tickets to this show, or is it finally time for a real change?

Stay tuned — same time, same place, same faces.

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