In the surreal theater of Philippine politics, where reality often outpaces fiction, Senator Nancy Binay’s recent outburst against Senator Ramon Revilla Jr. offers a masterclass in misplaced indignation. As rumors swirl and allegiances shift, the spectacle surrounding the Senate presidency has become a tantalizing study in pettiness, with Binay casting herself as an unlikely protagonist.

Binay has branded Revilla’s grumbling about his injured foot as “petty” and “useless,” mocking his decision to vote against former Senate President Juan Miguel Zubiri. Revilla, in a moment of candor, revealed that his Achilles tendon injury—and Zubiri’s refusal to allow virtual attendance—was a significant factor in his defection. One can almost imagine Revilla’s foot, throbbing with both pain and indignation, metaphorically kicking Zubiri out of the Senate presidency.

“Is an injured foot enough reason to remove a Senate president?” Binay scoffed in a recent interview. To which one might respond: In the circus of politics, stranger things have happened.

But let’s dive deeper into Binay’s grievances. She questions the logic of deposing Zubiri while simultaneously passing a resolution commending him for “excellent performance and outstanding leadership.” This, she suggests, reeks of hypocrisy. Yet, Binay misses a critical point: the resolution was a gesture of parliamentary courtesy, a way of saying, “Thanks for your service; now kindly step aside.” This is a tradition that smooths the rough edges of political transitions, however turbulent they may be.

Binay’s ire might be better directed at understanding the nuances of Senate politics. Revilla’s vote was not just about his foot—though the irony is delicious. It was about power, alliances, and the Artista bloc’s influence. The “Apat na Sikat”—Revilla, Jinggoy Estrada, Robin Padilla, and Lito Lapid—are more than a group of ex-action stars; they are a political force, and their unity in voting for Francis Escudero underscores their clout.

So why should Binay refrain from her public complaints? Here are a few reasons, delivered with the blunt cynicism this situation merits:

1. Self-Awareness: Complaining about pettiness while engaging in it is a bad look. Binay should consider the optics of her protest and recognize that her own actions could be perceived as equally trivial.

2. Focus on Substance: Instead of fixating on Revilla’s personal grievances, Binay could use her platform to address more substantive issues. Senate leadership battles are a dime a dozen, but meaningful legislative work is what truly impacts the Filipino people.

3. Political Savvy: Binay’s public lamentations do little to strengthen her political alliances. Politics is a game of strategy, and publicly undermining colleagues can backfire. Engaging in quiet diplomacy might serve her better in the long run.

4. Respect Tradition: Understanding and respecting parliamentary traditions, such as the resolution commending Zubiri, is crucial. These courtesies help maintain a semblance of decorum amidst the chaos.

5. Empathy: It might sound absurd, but empathizing with Revilla’s injury and the challenges it posed could have softened her stance. After all, politics is as much about relationships as it is about policies.

To Binay, I offer this advice: Embrace the absurdity of the Senate’s machinations with a touch of humor and grace. The world of politics is fraught with peculiarities and contradictions, and sometimes the best way to navigate it is to acknowledge its farcical nature. Channel your energy into legislative action and leave the petty squabbles to the tabloids.

As for the rest of us, we’ll continue to watch this unfolding drama with a mix of amusement and exasperation, ever hopeful that beneath the layers of absurdity, some semblance of good governance might emerge. In the meantime, let’s keep an eye on Revilla’s foot—it seems to have a mind of its own.