The world of Philippine entertainment and politics is currently engulfed in a twin storm of controversy that has left the public reeling in disbelief. On one front, a former comedian and host appears to be spiraling out of control, targeting a revered cultural icon after his previous feuds hit a legal wall. On the other, a high-ranking government official is facing intense scrutiny over allegations of excessive entitlement and security that supposedly eclipses that of global religious leaders. The atmosphere is thick with tension, and social media is the battleground where these narratives are being fiercely debated.

At the center of the showbiz hurricane is Anjo Yllana, a name that has been making waves recently for all the wrong reasons. Known for his comedic chops and tenure on noontime television, Yllana has reportedly shifted his aggressive rhetoric from his living contemporaries to a departed legend. For weeks, Yllana had been engaging in a one-sided word war against the pillars of “Eat Bulaga,” the trio known as TVJ (Tito, Vic, and Joey). However, reports suggest that with legal actions looming—specifically three cases of cyber libel and slander allegedly being prepared against him—Yllana has been forced to retreat. But instead of silence, he has seemingly chosen a new, more shocking target: the late King of Philippine Cinema, Fernando Poe Jr. (FPJ).

Observers are calling this move “desperate” and “disrespectful.” In a recent vlog or statement, Yllana allegedly critiqued and mocked iconic lines delivered by FPJ, such as the famous dialogue about “eating rice” (marami ka pang kakaining bigas). He reportedly questioned the logic of the line, suggesting it should be “cooked rice” (kanin) instead of “raw rice” (bigas), a pedantic and bizarre take that completely misses the metaphorical weight of the original script. To many Filipinos, FPJ is not just an actor; he is a cultural hero whose legacy is almost sacred. Attacking the memory of a man who can no longer defend himself is seen as a violation of the unwritten rules of respect in the industry. It paints a picture of a personality who is running out of content and is flailing for relevance, even if it means tarnishing the memory of an icon.

The backlash has been swift and merciless. Netizens and commentators are questioning Yllana’s mental state, with some suggesting he is “losing it” or is simply hungry. The commentary community has pointed out that his attempts to rewrite history or critique the logic of classic cinema only highlight his own fading relevance. Instead of engaging in a battle of wits with TVJ, which he realized was a legal minefield, he has resorted to nitpicking the legacy of “Da King,” a move that has alienated him even further from the public who grew up idolizing FPJ.

While the entertainment world grapples with Yllana’s antics, the political arena is dealing with its own version of a “VIP” scandal. Vice President Sara Duterte is in the hot seat following revelations about the sheer size of her security detail. Reports circulating online claim that the Vice President maintains a security force of 335 personnel. To put this into perspective, critics are drawing comparisons to the security detail of the Pope, suggesting that the Vice President’s entourage is even larger. The visual of a 47-vehicle convoy needed to transport such a team is staggering to the average citizen who struggles with daily commute and traffic.

This revelation has sparked a debate about entitlement and the misuse of public funds. In a country where resources are often scarce and the average Filipino has to make do with minimal government support, the idea of a single official requiring hundreds of bodyguards is being viewed as “shameless extravagance.” Critics are calling it a “Lustay” (wasteful spending) issue, demanding transparency on whether taxpayer money is fueling this massive operation. The contrast is stark: while public school teachers—under the department she formerly led—struggle with outdated equipment, the Vice President is allegedly insulated by a battalion of guards.

The convergence of these two stories paints a grim picture of the current state of public discourse. On one hand, you have an entertainer who seems to have lost his way, attacking the memory of a hero to stay in the news cycle. On the other, you have a political leader whose lifestyle and security arrangements seem vastly disconnected from the reality of the constituents she serves. Both narratives speak to a deeper issue of “entitlement”—one feels entitled to respect despite disrespectful behavior, and the other allegedly feels entitled to excessive protection at the public’s expense.

As these stories continue to develop, the court of public opinion is already delivering its verdict. For Anjo Yllana, the advise from the public is clear: seek help or simply stop talking before the damage to his reputation is irreversible. For Vice President Sara Duterte, the challenge is to justify such extravagance to a populace that is increasingly weary of leaders who live like royalty. In both cases, the message is that actions have consequences, and in the age of social media, no one—not a fading comedian or a sitting Vice President—is immune to the call for accountability.