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This is where your taxes go 🥸

At the outset, the project was botched and mala fide—a failure from the start. Budget released, budget gone. Disdain in every piece of feedback. The bane of their existence.

Our primitive system worsened the politicians' traditional corruption—protected by the lawmakers we vote for. If only we could undo corruption's aggregate damage, we would not still be trapped in this waling2x age today as they hoard a surfeit of ever-blooming gardens while the nation withers under their own watch.

It is excruciating: despite having gold galore, the nation is still poor. Abominable are the conditions of the multitudes, yearning for their share as taxpayers.

The scepter tests human mettle. Whatever you choose becomes an indelible legacy for your posterity. No highbrow tongue can smoke-screen ignoble deeds forever.

The citizens' request felt rebuffed when the highest chamber put the flood control probe in a somber tone, and enforcement against it has grown feeble. Genteel language will not restore public trust.

Our Constitution is replete with good laws, yet it falls into desuetude when leaders shun enforcement—moving the goalposts. They persecute whistleblowers yet fail to prosecute brazen lawbreakers, and exonerate corruption cases contested for decades while disregarding present-day malfeasance.

Only those privy to the partisan knew their progenitor's plan. We can only see afar—vultures of Hades circling their emaciated souls, waiting to become carrion—leaving people on tenterhooks amid the vicissitudes of politics and awaiting the fates' vengeance.

Law existed, yet no one exhorted. Entangled in a quandary, trapped in a conundrum that led to a quagmire. An impasse that dragged into a predicament. ..And those who obfuscate truth will earn opprobrium.

Our country is not poor. A suitcase to sweeten the deal is par for the course. This is where our taxes go. ⬇️↘️ #Kleptocrat.👔 👜👝📦💵💼🎒🗄💰🧳

-Abbevangel 🇵🇭

THE HOUSE THAT CRIED AT MIDNIGHT

By Sarah Mae Gella

Some houses hold memories. Others hold the dead. This house remembers every scream.

When Elena Villareal returns to her family’s ancestral mansion, she expects to uncover the secrets of her family’s tragic past. Instead, she discovers a house filled with whispers, locked doors, and shadows that move when no one is watching.

Years ago, her grandparents were brutally murdered, leaving behind unanswered questions and a darkness that refuses to fade. As Elena searches for the truth, she uncovers forgotten photographs, disturbing records, and a horrifying secret buried beneath the mansion’s foundations.

But the dead are not the only ones hiding something.

Every midnight, the house comes alive. Every room holds a memory. And every secret brings Elena closer to a truth that could cost her everything.

To uncover what really happened, Elena must face the restless souls trapped within the walls—and discover why they are desperate for justice.

Some spirits want to be remembered. Others want revenge.

And once the house calls your name, there may be no way out.

The Vassal Chimeras in Kamara

Pristine childhood days taught us that public office was effulgent - a place of honor. That illusion collapses as we grow observing current epoch.

The Kamara today is not populated by legislators, but by vassal chimeras. They are a grotesque amalgam of public servant and businessman, of celebrity and warlord. This Janus-faced hybridity is not accidental; it is protean by design. They are oligarchs masquerading as representatives, an entrenched dynasty that has conflated governance with enterprise.

What defines them is not ideology, but obsequious and sycophantic loyalty. Their allegiance is never to the Constitution that enshrined public trust, but to a singular patron. Their conduct in the chamber is perfunctory and servile, a pusillanimous performance devoid of deliberation. They exhibit a subservient, unctuous fealty, trembling not for the people, but for the preservation of their patronage. This is not statesmanship; it is a Machiavellian survival instinct.

This blind vassalage enables their venality. The legislative process becomes a vehicle for rent-seeking and perfidious self-dealing. Through deliberate obfuscation, they render laws opaque. Through endless prevarication, they evade accountability. Their craft is the quiet subversion of checks and balances, a nepotistic enterprise where power is bequeathed like property and public office is treated as a family corporation.

They have not merely bent the law; they have perverted its spirit. In this milieu of transactional politics, the principle of public trust is not upheld but auctioned. What remains in the Kamara is a menagerie of chimeras - majestic in title, monstrous in function - kneeling not to the Republic, but to the hand that feeds them.

Mum-ictionary™ : "Are we going to citris?"

When Mum actually meant to remind me to place Systane Hydration Preservative-free eye drops when the alarm for noon rang.

#MumDictionary #MomBrain #EyeDropReminder

Image: 🎨 Mum-ictionary™ : "Are we going to citris?" Concept and digital art by © 2026 Ruth Montalban aka river_writer | 2026-10-17