The President is absent. Again. Nobody noticed.

Palace says he’s sick. Stressed. Tired. Toilet thing; what got us teased in school now gets a spokesperson. Claire had to announce it three times. Like Bongbong needs rest from resting: “Hinay-hinay po, sir,” like she’s worried he might accidentally do his job and pull something.

Sick of what exactly? Responsibility? Claire, if leadership were truly exhausting, we’d have felt the relief earlier.

Bongbong skipped an event at Malacañang. Gawad Lingkod Bayani. Heroes everywhere. President nowhere. Very symbolic.

The Palace rushed out a statement: the President is making “steady progress.” That’s what they use when it’s clearly getting worse. That phrase has been running this country for years.

He was supposed to lead a police ceremony. Supposed to. Now? “Not sure.” That’s the theme of the presidency, by the way. “Not sure”.

Recto: “Konting pahinga lang.” Just a little rest-rest, the kind that comes with everyday minutes of the meeting and “taking time out to sign all documents.”

“Like any normal individual”. Which is funny because most people rest to stop working. This President rests to convince you he’s still working.

Diverticulitis. Very specific. We finally have transparency. About an intestine. This is the first time “internal issues” was meant literally. They blame the gut because the gut can’t resign.

Beautiful intestines. Long tube. Big responsibility. Food goes in. Waste goes out. Simple system. Works flawlessly for millions of people, without a spokesperson explaining how overworked it is.

If only flood control got the same medical attention as this man’s a*s.

Diverticulitis; it’s basically your body saying: “I cannot move this situation forward.”

Sound familiar?

Imagine being President and this is your metaphor. Not a strong heart. Or a strained muscle.

Very inspiring. Nobody wants to be remembered as “When Bongbong was President, the only thing passing around Malacañang was gas.”

This may be the most awkward medical condition to ever come with a national press release. This is Bongbong, and the most detailed explanation we’ve gotten all week is that he’s constipated.

They said if the President stops working, the country stops running. We watched. Nobody was confused because nothing had changed. If Bongbong is so essential that everything collapses without him, why did everything already feel collapsed with him?

Turns out the real shocker is discovering how long we’d already been living like this.

“Nothing to worry about,” Claire says, right before worrying loudly. She speaks like rest itself is dangerous, like absence might accidentally look like what it actually is.

“If it’s not life-threatening.” Claire asks, “Why issue a medical bulletin?”

Very wrong, Claire. Life-threatening is drama. Power-threatening is the slip of the tongue. Because once you concede incapacity, the moment you say the illness is serious, when people realize the President is not fully there, everybody suddenly remembers who is next in line.

So, get well soon, Mr. President. Truly. Flush the blockage. The country is tired of being held up by one stubborn piece of crap.