Duterte succession problem

Pulong, I would be offended! First, daddy became president. Then Sara became VP. Now they’re talking about Baste.

What happened to you, Pulong? Did somebody even ask you to step aside?

“Pulong, would you mind?” No?

You’re the eldest! If being a Duterte is the qualification, you had been a Duterte for 12 years before Baby Baste showed up. Almost 13 years of seniority! Suddenly he’s Plan B?

I’d be furious, frankly. I’d be furious every time somebody said “Plan B.” I’d be furious at the letter B and demand to know why the alphabet put B before P.

And if Kitty becomes Plan C, you’re done!

Now, Baste knows what’s happening. Of course. Does he have the decency to say, “Wait, what about my kuya?”

I’d remember that, Pulong. Especially at Christmas.

You sit across from Baste at dinner; he’s eating lechon. You’re eating lechon. Same father, same surname, same pig; somehow his lechon comes with a possible presidency. I’d lose my appetite!

Then Baste says, “Kuya, pass the rice.” And you pass it! Like a fool! This man is being considered for president before you, and you’re serving him rice? I’d say, “Get your own rice, Mr. President!”

And imagine that he actually becomes president. You have a family dinner. Baste walks in. Everybody stands. And you stand too! For Baste. In your own family!

Somebody asks, “Mr. President, would you like the head of the lechon?” Of course! Give him the head! He’s the president! And what does big Pulong get? The tail?

That is the problem with little brothers. They spend their childhood borrowing your toys, your clothes, shoes. Then one day they grow up and decide they’d like to borrow the entire country.

So what are you going to do? Run against Baste? Suppose you win. You’re president of the Philippines! What will your mother say?

“You couldn’t just let your little brother have this one thing?” Unbelievable! “You could’ve just accepted a Cabinet position from Baste.”

Very prestigious. Baste will call you kuya in private and Mr. Secretary at work. You’ll have two titles, Pulong! But neither one means you’re in charge.

Then, one day, he fires you. You go home furious: “Ma, Baste fired me!” And what does she say? “Ikaw ang kuya, ikaw ang umintindi.”

You’re older when he becomes president, you’re older when he gives you a job, you’re older when he fires you. Being the eldest means you’re responsible for everything, except running the country?!!

People will say you should be proud! Proud? Let me ask you something. Is anybody familiar with Rodrigo’s brother? Nobody! Why? Because Rodrigo became president!

That’s what happens. One brother becomes president; the other becomes somebody people have to explain at parties.

“Who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s the President’s brother.”

Not Congressman Duterte. Not former Deputy Speaker. The President’s brother. Somebody will ask, “Which one?”

Which one!? You were the only one for 12 years! Now you’re going to go from somebody’s son to somebody’s brother without ever becoming somebody!

But Baste won’t forget you. In his inaugural speech he’ll go: “I couldn’t have done it without my kuya.”

Pulong, he just did! Baste became president without you. In front of the entire country. Live. Then he thanks you for making it possible? Making what possible? Your own irrelevance?

You’re being thanked for being an accessory to your own defeat!

You cannot even complain without looking envious.

Everyone expects you to congratulate Baste. This is cruel. First they skip you, then they expect you to clap. Even your humiliation has to be enthusiastic.

Here’s what I propose Rodrigo should do before his family goes kaput and the DDS start calling each other anti-Duterte.

Give Sara Luzon. Give Baste Visayas. Give Pulong Mindanao. He’s the eldest, so throw in Palawan.

Then somebody tell the 117 million Filipinos to stop interfering in family matters. Thank you.

God bless the Philippines, whoever inherits it.