“Ako ’To, Ading—Pass the Shabu and the DNA Kit”

The Marcos Sibling Smackdown Goes Full Ipa-Tulfo Mo in Action

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — November 25, 2025

I. The Shakespearian Prologue

Imagine a stage soaked in monsoon rain, the ghosts of Martial Law howling in the rafters, and two heirs to a throne built on blood and ill-gotten billions tearing each other apart while the kingdom drowns.
This is not fiction. This is Malacañang, November 2025.

President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. weeps before the cameras and declares, voice trembling:
“That lady you see talking on TV is not my sister.”

Senator Imee Marcos, from the podium of an Iglesia Ni Cristo rally, fires back:
“Bongbong, ako ‘to.”

One hundred thirty million Filipinos watch in horrified fascination as the First Family implodes in real time, their dirty linen not merely aired but paraded—dripping, reeking, radioactive.

Welcome to the Marcos Meltdown, Act III.

**Sibling rivalry now comes in powder form: guaranteed 99 % pure denial and 100 % public-funded entertainment.**

II. The Evasionist-in-Chief Performs “Concern”

Behold the masterclass in political theater.
Tears glistening like crocodile pearls, Bongbong tells the nation:

“We’ve been very worried about my sister… the lady you see is not my sister. Family, friends, even our cousins agree—hindi siya ‘yan. I hope she feels better soon.”

Translation: the woman accusing me of doing lines with the First Lady and offering cocaine to my children like it’s tsokolate at a family reunion is clearly delusional, possibly possessed, definitely not the Imee we once knew.

How exquisitely convenient.

Instead of rolling up his starched barong sleeve and taking the hair follicle test his sister dared him to take—something any tambay in Tondo would do for a hundred pesos and a smirk—Bongbong reaches for the oldest trick in the dictator’s playbook: pathologize the critic.

This is not concern.
This is gaslighting on a presidential scale.

The same man who rewrote his father’s dictatorship as a “golden age” now rewrites his sister’s betrayal as a mental health episode.
The Evasionist-in-Chief strikes again—first history, now basic toxicology.

Why take a drug test when you can, uh, can just declare your accuser insane?

III. The Dynasty’s Arsonist Lights the Match

And then there is Imee.
“Ako ‘to,” she insists, as if anyone doubted the identity of the woman currently torching the ancestral mansion on live television.

Make no mistake—this is not courage.
This is not a brave whistleblower risking everything for truth.

This is a cornered dynast who watched the Marcos-Duterte alliance collapse, saw her reelection numbers circling the drain, and decided the only way out was to burn the entire house down.

She chose the Iglesia Ni Cristo rally—political holy ground—as her arson site. Because nothing screams “I’m telling the truth” like accusing the President of drug addiction in front of two million bloc-voting faithful.

Accusations: Bongbong, Liza, the presidential kids, even the friends—all cokeheads.
Offer on the table: hair follicle tests for everyone… in exchange for a DNA test (because why not turn a national crisis into a Maury episode?).

This is not principle.
This is survival.
The Dynasty’s Arsonist doesn’t care if the house burns—as long as she walks out with a Senate seat in 2028.

IV. The Gothic Undercurrent

Because no Marcos scandal is complete without a corpse in the closet, the old ghost slithers back:

Is Imee even a Marcos?
The rumor that she is the love child of the late Manila mayor Arsenio Lacson—charismatic, anti-Marcos, conveniently dead since 1962—gets new oxygen every time Bongbong says “that lady is not my sister.”

Even golden boy Sandro piles on: her behavior is not that of a “tunay na kapatid.”

The family that insisted blood is thicker than plunder for fifty years now questions whose blood is whose—while dodging a drug test that costs less than one of Liza’s Hermès bags.

The hypocrisy is so thick you could pave Edsa with it.

V. The Duterte Shadow (Pass the Popcorn)

The Dutertes must be laughing in Davao.
These are the same clans that once hugged onstage, promised UniTeam forever, and jointly presided over a drug war that left thousands of poor Filipinos bleeding in the gutters.

Now the Marcoses accuse each other of drug use with the same moral fury Rodrigo once reserved for addicts he hadn’t yet executed.

Pot. Kettle. Meth lab.

VI. The National Cost

While Rome burns, Manila drowns—literally.
Flood-control funds vanish.
Rice prices climb.
Chinese vessels circle Scarborough like it’s a parking lot.
Investors watch this circus and quietly move their money to Vietnam.

We did not claw our way out of dictatorship and decades of plunder just to become the set of a dynastic telenovela where the only plot twist is which sibling is higher.

VII. The Prescription: ENOUGH

President Bongbong Marcos:

Schedule the hair follicle test. Today.
Independent lab. Live-stream the collection if you must.
Publish the results before the ink dries.

Senator Imee Marcos:

Same offer.
And throw in the DNA test—put the Lacson ghost to rest once and for all.

Then sit down—together or separately—and address the nation like adults.
No more tears. No more “ako ‘to.” No more palace spokesmen calling your own blood “desperate.”

With facts.

Because the Filipino people deserve better than to be collateral damage in your family’s nervous breakdown.

This is no longer about your egos.
This is about a country that has suffered enough under the Marcos name—first under your father, now under you.

End the melodrama.
Take the tests.
Tell the truth.

Or get off the stage—and let the rest of us write a future that doesn’t star clowns in barong tagalog fighting over whose turn it is to ruin the country.

The curtain cannot fall soon enough.