Six hundred million pesos in “unprogrammed funds.” Money that’s not supposed to be there, unplanned, suddenly ends up in Bulacan flood projects.

Budget Amenah? Did she even care about “budgeting” our money? Made sure it wasn’t a ghost project or a double dip?

Barking up the wrong tree? Probably barking at the tree that signs the papers.

Here’s how these unprogrammed funds work: DBM says, “We’ll put a big envelope of cash on the table. Don’t touch it, it’s only for emergencies.”

Yet they touch it! Always. It’s a miracle. They always find a contingency, usually in their own pockets.

Congress looks at the total: “Impeccable. Approved! Maybe more? Sign it, Mr. President.” Bongbong signs. Boom. Money exists. Lump sum.

Nobody says exactly where it goes. Floods, typhoons, who knows? Nobody checks every line. It’s a legal blank check. Beautifully vague. Perfect for confusion.

Then agencies like DPWH rush: “Mom, we want money for this project.” And DBM, the mom, checks the family bank, says, “Sure, kid. We have money. Here you go.”

Anybody in the assembly line sees a chance. Could hide a yacht under it if you’re sneaky.

They whisper, hint, “connect” the project to themselves. Brice said it’s Villanueva. Could be whoever. Nobody can technically say they assigned it because legally, it’s just unprogrammed funds.

Budget Amenah: “Wala po kaming tao na kaya mag-check isa-isa ng mga projects na pino-propose ng DPWH.”

Amenah!? What you don’t have people? You’ve got thousands in your big offices, air-conditioning, coffee machines, and not one person to suspect P600 million can be shady?

“DBM only sets ceilings, the agencies check.” We’ve seen ceilings, Amenah. You look up in a DepEd classroom, they leak, they crack, made by DPWH. But this ceiling? It rained P600 million and nobody checked the roof. Because what? Amenah said her hand is tied?

Call it “unprogrammed funds.” But let’s not play coy when it’s the same pork, different lipstick.

When emergency funds show up, allegedly funding pet projects, especially localized, politically linked ones like the fake Bulacan flood control, it’s functionally the same as pork: discretionary, opaque, ripe for abuse.

Villanueva says, “An ordinary senator can’t act alone.” True. But an ordinary senator can act at all.

An ordinary senator can’t insert funds? Sure, Joel, tell us more.

An ordinary senator can’t read a budget either, apparently. Joel is “powerless.” But his signature could still move money. Unless he refused to see anything.

In 2023, unprogrammed funds ballooned to P588 billion (from 2022's P45 billion) in the NEP to P807.2 billion after Congress reconciled it.

So what “emergency” was Amenah preparing for? An eighteen-fold surge doesn’t happen by accident. It’s a bit of Congress doesn't know exactly what the executive will spend it on, but "We want more money in the pot."

Either Amenah is a clairvoyant or someone knew exactly what they wanted, and made sure the money was waiting. 

Could Joel have flagged it? Absolutely. He could have stood up, yelled, blinked, waved a little Bible verse, Jesus is Lord style, Quiboloy, Brother Eddie, whatever: "Why this massive spike? Which emergencies justify it? Who influenced this?"

Instead? Zip-zip? Nada? His Senate just voted yes on the GAA including the mega-jacked UA.

And while everyone’s barking at Joel, Martin, the “process,” the DPWH proposals, Amenah could’ve pushed back, fought, justified, shrugged. Did she just shrug? Bicam reconciled. President signed. Done.

Amenah can invoke laws and her mandate’s limitations all day; but either she failed in oversight or the DBM became a willing cover for questionable spending. Because if DBM can refuse release and doesn’t, it’s consent.

In essence, a budget manager is plain and simple: hold the money, don’t lose it, ensure it’s spent wisely. Otherwise, you’re a failure. Amenah can’t hide. DBM can’t hide.