The way Mayor Francis Zamora says “Makabagong San Juan Medical Center,” you expect the ambulances to arrive before the accident. You expect the hospital bed to transform into a spaceship.

Then the staff tells you: “Sir, walang MRI. Refer po kayo.” Very futuristic. They send you to the future in another municipality.

But that’s Francis. Left alone long enough, he’d stamp “Makabagong San Juan” on shoes. He gave away 13,000 sneakers stamped with it.

The crematorium has it, too. Very unsettling way to suggest continuity of service.

Look. We have bad taste sometimes. But Makabagong San Juan Rubber Shoes? Francis, this is another level.

We desperately want to understand the psychological journey that led you to believe these sneakers communicate modernity.

Nobody writes “Luxury Yacht” on the side of a yacht.

The whole thing looks like it was designed by a committee whose favorite restaurant is Cabalen.

People nodding, serious faces, “Mayor. This represents modernity.” Francis thought the kids would feel proud wearing something that belongs to the Department of Agriculture.

You basically just handed children a social handicap and said, “Be confident.” A kid walks into class wearing those and suddenly he’s not Carlo anymore. He’s kagawad. Forever.

Some kid probably opened the box slowly in front of cousins. Peeked inside. Little heartbeat. Wow! Nike? Saw a shape that looked vaguely athletic. Three stripes maybe. A swoosh. Little smile forming. Trying to stay humble already. Imagining compliments.

Then the angle shifts slightly. “Makabagong San Juan.” Devastating. You wished for an iPhone and received a calculator.

The adults in the room made it worse by forcing enthusiasm: “Nice, anak! Very nice! Thank Mayor Zamora!”

Fake Jordans, Yeezys, a lot of them in Greenhills, by the way, at least allow pride and important childhood nutrients.

But “Makabagong San Juan” sneakers? Anybody would resent you a little. Even a Muslim seller in Greenhills who sold “Niek” would agree it’s too fake.

Francis obviously does not understand the violence of almost-cool. Almost-cool is fatal at that age. This thing gives you a brief hallucination of status.

Kids are unbelievably sensitive to this stuff. Real trauma is when you’re 11 and hearing someone in class yell: “Bro! Your shoes are from city hall?”

“Makabagong San Juan Crematorium.” P71 million. Think about that. You’re calling a furnace “modern.”

Francis, a furnace is a furnace. It’s been “modern” since 19-kopong-kopong. Somehow he wants us to believe being turned into ash in San Juan is more futuristic than being turned into ash anywhere else.

Makabagong San Juan Medical Center. The brand talks like the destination has been reached. The explanations still sound like the trip just started. Francis: “Makabago na ang San Juan. Babalik pa ba tayo sa makaluma?”

We don’t know, Francis. You tell us. Because every time there’s criticism about SJMC, we somehow end up back at the previous administration. The place is getting a lot of visits for a city too “in the future” to have already moved forward.

Hospitals are supposed to be simple. The question isn’t “modern or old?” It’s “available or not available?”

“Makabago na ang San Juan!” Wonderful. “Good news! Parating na ang MRI!” So, not yet? Which one, Francis?

It’s not even the delay. It’s the triumphant tone of the delay. The city’s out here acting like it already has Star Trek medicine because an MRI machine is supposedly stuck in traffic on the way to San Juan.

That’s what kills us about “Makabagong San Juan.” It treats aspiration as accomplishment. At some point, you wonder if it’s visionary or defensive: “We upgraded the hospital to Level 2.” People still complain. “We gave away free shoes.” You’re choosy?

He applies relief-goods logic to everything. Except people aren’t asking whether effort happened, but whether the experience is actually good.

The kid still has to wear the shoes. The patient still has to survive the hospital.