This guy Sonny Trillanes is not a politician anymore. I’m telling you, the man is bacteria. Very powerful bacteria. At this point, he should be studied under a microscope by UP Manila.

Every administration tries to disinfect him politically and somehow, he returns stronger and more sour.

Completely fermented man. Very strange pattern with Sonny Trillanes. Only shows up when things start smelling weird. Like yogurt. Nobody invited yogurt. Sonny Trillanes is like seeing yogurt in your fridge and realizing: “P*tang in*. Something happened here!”

Trillanes enters the Senate, and suddenly, Bato is crying. Sweating. For a man named Bato, that’s suddenly a lot of moisture. Which is weird. Because, naturally, moisture first, then Sonny.

But really, what the f**k was Trillanes doing there? You can almost hear the Senate stomach acids: “Because your political intestines are sick, Alan!”

Mr. Cayetano. SP. Smart bacteria. Very intelligent strain. Honor-student bacteria. This is the tragedy of smart bacteria sometimes. Appearing beside the dirty sink every election.

Even Leni. Sweet Leni. Of all people. Couldn’t escape her trying to smile politely around Sara Duterte like, “Maybe we can still work together.”

Somewhere behind her is Sonny Trillanes looking physically ill. Absolute disgust.

“Why are the clean bacteria flirting with salmonella?”

Sonny is not Interpol. Much worse. Police eventually go home. Police have shifts. Weekends. Sonny has free time.

The most dangerous organism in politics is a man with absolutely no visible civilian hobbies and 24 uninterrupted hours a day to remain committed to your downfall.

Other politicians golf. Fish. Collect watches. Mistresses.

Sonny apparently spends his days imagining scenarios where Bato wakes up at 3 a.m. because he heard the NBI drop a spoon in the kitchen. And the frightening part is Bato would absolutely check.

The country spent 20 years trying to get Sonny to calm down.

Nothing worked. Not Oakwood. Peninsula. Military detention. Senate hearings. Not Duterte spending six years publicly trying to flatten the man.

He won a Senate seat. From jail! Who does that?

Strange because we hear that and immediately decide whether it sounds heroic or insane, depending on the surname.

Marcos Sr. studied in detention and beat the bar. Mythology. Genius. Destiny. Best President.

Sonny Trillanes wins a Senate seat from detention and people go: “Epal.”

Some politicians mellow with age. Very natural process. They enter politics angry. Then slowly the Senate washing machine starts working on them.

Nice offices. Birthday parties. Godchildren everywhere. Suddenly, the mortal enemies are golfing together in Tagaytay.

Everybody eventually becomes softer, rounder, more upholstered emotionally. The radical becomes a “statesman.” The critic becomes a “bridge-builder.” The activist starts saying things like: “We must move forward together.”

Not Sonny.

Twenty years in politics somehow made him more Sonny Trillanes.

Like a banana becoming more banana. More yellow. More banana smell. More aggressively banana-shaped.

At no point did this man choose peace in his life. That’s not a sign of corruption. He “infestigates.” He speaks like a man who still cannot believe everybody else stopped being angry.

The easy version is: “Crazy mutineer.” “Self-righteous epal senator.”

The state had spent 20 years trying to classify him. Traitor? Soldier? Senator? Destabilizer? Crank? Hero? Then Bato happened, and the country is trying to decide whether he’s heroic or unbearable. The correct answer may be: yes.

The country quietly may have accepted something much stranger: he became part of the immune system.

Every administration eventually reaches the same stage with 4th. First, they laugh at him. Insult him. Investigate him. Then somehow, they end up answering questions he asked three years earlier. The five stages of Sonny.

Two decades. Spent calling Sonny Trillanes annoying.

One day, it realized annoyance was the point.