I saw an article about a Thames Valley Police officer shooting a drug-crazed, knife-wielding man inside a railway station.

Good job, I say. Not because a shooting is something to cheer about. It is not. Not because police should be handed a blank check. They should not. But a man with a knife inside a public railway station is not a theoretical problem. It is not a neat little debate for people safe behind microphones, press releases, and committee tables.

It is a threat. Right there. Right then. And in that moment, the job of the police is to protect the public.

That is what bothers me about where we are now.

Would a police officer in my own city still have the nerve to act that decisively? Or would he pause, knowing what comes next? The suspect is armed. The public is in danger. Someone could be stabbed. But the moment the officer uses force, the familiar machinery starts moving.

Politicians posture. Human rights groups issue statements. Outspoken congressmen and senators suddenly find their outrage. And somehow, the officer who stopped the threat becomes the one dragged through the mud.

Dismissal. Prosecution. Public humiliation. All because he dared lay a finger on someone endangering everyone around him.

Meanwhile, the ordinary citizen is told to wait: Wait for the investigation. Wait for due process. Wait for careful language about the suspect’s rights, background, trauma, poverty, addiction, and whatever else can soften the image of a violent offender.

Fine. Discuss those things.

But where is that same careful concern for the victim?

Where is the urgency for the commuter who could have been stabbed? For the shopkeeper robbed by someone high and desperate? For the family terrorized in their own neighborhood? For the ordinary person who does not have a lawyer, a senator, a press conference, or an advocacy group ready to speak for him?

That is the part that enrages me.

Too many powerful voices seem far more energetic when defending the criminals than when defending the public. They roar when the criminal is hurt. They mumble when the victim is buried, traumatized, or left to fend for himself.

And at some point, we have to stop pretending this has no consequences.

When violent drug offenders are constantly treated as people to be rescued from accountability, what message does that send? When every police action is treated as brutality before the facts are complete, what does that do to the officers who are supposed to protect us?

Who benefits from that hesitation? Certainly not the ordinary citizen.

I am not saying every suspect should be shot. I am not saying police abuse should be excused. Any officer who brutalizes the innocent, plants evidence, or uses the uniform as a license for cruelty should face the full force of the law.

But stopping an armed attacker in a public place is not abuse. That distinction matters.

A knife-wielding assailant is not the moral center of the story just because he can be described with words like poverty, trauma, addiction, or social injustice. Those things may explain parts of a life. They do not erase the danger he creates when he threatens people with a weapon.

The public is the moral center of the story. The victims are. The people trying to get home alive are.

That Thames Valley officer saw a threat and acted before innocent people paid the price. That should not be controversial.

So why does it feel controversial here?

I do not want lawless policing. I want a country where police can act decisively against an immediate public threat without being politically destroyed for doing their job. I want a society that can defend human rights without coddling violent criminals.

And I want to know why the people who are always loudest for drug offenders are so often quietest when ordinary citizens become their victims. The people who keep mistaking coddling for compassion know exactly who they are.

I did not expect to enjoy a video of someone eating this much. But here we are.

XG dropped a CHISA mukbang, and it was honestly more entertaining than I thought it would be. A mukbang, for those who do not follow this corner of internet culture, is basically a video where someone eats on camera while talking, reacting, or turning the meal into a little performance.

With Chisa, that setup already has an advantage.

She is just naturally funny. Not in a forced, “please laugh now” kind of way. More like she reacts so openly that the comedy comes out on its own. One moment she is confident, the next she looks like she is questioning her life choices, and then she keeps going anyway.

What really helped the video, though, was the narration-style commentary. It made the whole thing feel like a serious documentary about a food challenge that was not serious at all. That contrast worked. A bite became a moment. A pause became suspense. Suddenly, it was not just Chisa eating. It became a tiny quest.

Then came the surprise twists.

Whether those twists affected the final “achievement” is for viewers to decide. Maybe the challenge was still clean. Maybe it was slightly compromised. Maybe the twists only made the whole thing funnier.

For me, they made it better.

This is the kind of side content I enjoy from XG because it lets the members breathe a little. We already know they can perform. We already know they can own a stage. But lighter videos like this show another part of the appeal: their personalities are strong enough to carry even the simplest ideas.

In this case, Chisa turned a mukbang into a small comedy event.

Watch the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSRhEZK6Tys

It is not that Bato dela Rosa should be left alone. If there is a warrant, if there is a legal process, and if there are serious allegations that have to be answered, then the government has reason to act. No public official should be treated as untouchable just because he is powerful, popular, or politically useful.

But ordinary Filipinos are also allowed to notice the contrast.

When the target is a politically important person, law enforcement suddenly looks awake. Tracker teams are formed. Agencies coordinate. Statements come quickly. Operations are mounted. Everyone seems to know what to do.

Then people look at their own streets.

The footbridges where commuters get robbed. The alleys workers avoid after dark. The jeepney stops where people hold their phones and bags a little tighter. The neighborhoods where residents know who the troublemakers are, but do not really expect help to arrive before something bad happens.

Crime statistics may show improvement, at least, according to the government. But public safety is not only about numbers on a chart. It is also about whether people actually feel protected in ordinary places.

This is not to say every police officer has stopped doing street duty just to chase one man. That would be unfair, and too easy to dispute. The government can pursue a high-profile legal case and still protect ordinary citizens.

But does it feel that way? For many people, no.

The sovereignty issue makes the question even sharper. Many Filipinos are already uneasy about the ICC’s role in our national affairs. Whether one agrees with the ICC or not, it is fair to ask why our government appears so visibly responsive to an international legal process while ordinary people still feel exposed to criminals in their own communities.

Again, this is not a plea to ignore Bato. It is a question of priorities.

Law enforcement will always have to choose where to place its attention. That is understood. But those choices become harder to accept when people feel least protected in the places where they are most vulnerable: streets, transport stops, markets, footbridges, and neighborhoods.

Ordinary Filipinos should not feel like extras in a drama about powerful people. They are the ones walking home, closing shops, waiting for rides, crossing dark streets, and hoping nothing happens.

So yes, pursue the powerful when the law requires it. But do not make people wonder why the state seems strongest when the world is watching, and least present when they are simply trying to get home.

Let me say this upfront: this is not about taking the side of one Senate bloc over another. I am not cheering for the minority just because they happen to oppose the majority on this issue.

My problem is bigger than today’s numbers.

I do not want any bloc, now or later, to turn remote participation into a convenience pass.

Remote participation already exists for emergencies. The Senate rules already allow sessions through teleconference, video conference, or other reliable electronic means when there is force majeure or a national emergency — the kind of situation where the Senate cannot meet physically, or senators cannot be there in person.

That makes sense. Government should not grind to a halt during a pandemic, a major disaster, or an actual emergency.

But that is not what this moment looks like.

What we have now is a Senate in turmoil: a fragile majority, a minority walkout, questions over quorum, and growing suspicion that this rule change could benefit senators who are absent, under legal pressure, or politically useful from a distance.

So no, this is not just about Zoom links.

It is about whether senators who are not on the floor should still be counted, heard, and allowed to vote while the chamber is fighting over numbers and control.

That is where the danger begins.

Because once this door is opened too casually, it will not only matter who benefits today. It will matter who abuses it tomorrow. A senator avoiding pressure. A bloc trying to preserve numbers. A convenient vote appearing from somewhere off-camera. An absence made useful.

That should worry us.

The Senate floor is not just a counting room. It is where senators are supposed to show up, face each other, get challenged, get interrupted, defend their positions, and be seen by the public they claim to represent.

Physical presence still matters. Not because we are allergic to technology, but because democracy should involve some exposure. Some discomfort. Some accountability.

Modernize the Senate, sure. But do not modernize it into absentee lawmaking.

Remote participation has its place in real emergencies. It should not become an everyday shortcut, especially under today’s political cloud.

Senators were elected to represent the people.

Outside genuine emergencies, the least they can do is show up.

I have been an XG fan since their 2022 debut, so seeing Jurin, Chisa, Hinata, Harvey, Juria, Maya, and Cocona walk the red carpet at the American Music Awards felt quietly emotional.

They were not nominated. They were not there to perform. From what I understand, they were invited guests; there to grace the show, meet the press, pose for photos, and be seen by a wider American entertainment audience. And honestly, I am more than fine with that.

For a group like XG, whose ambitions have always pointed beyond one market, simply being in that room matters. This was not a trophy moment. It was a visibility moment. And sometimes, visibility is the first door that opens before everything else follows.

What made me happiest was seeing U.S. media give them time, even if briefly. Billboard interviewed them on the red carpet, where they talked about being excited to see KATSEYE, meeting the Jonas Brothers, and their current world tour. Entertainment Tonight also caught them on the carpet. Entertainment Weekly and WWD included them in their red-carpet coverage. CBS and AMAs social posts highlighted their look, even playfully calling it an “X-Gala.”

That may seem like a small ripple to people outside the fandom. But to fans who have watched them grow from “Tippy Toes” onward, it means something. A photo gallery here, a quick interview there, a social clip with their name on it — those are the small points of contact that make unfamiliar viewers pause and ask, “Who are they?”

And of course, XG looked the part. Their styling had that familiar XG balance: sharp, futuristic, fashion-forward, a little intimidating, but still playful. Each member had her own presence, but together they looked like a unit with a clear identity. Not guests who accidentally wandered onto the carpet, but artists who belonged there.

I know XG wants to make it big in North America. I hope this AMAs appearance becomes one of those early markers fans look back on later and say, “That was when more people started noticing.”

And with the U.S. leg of their current world tour, I hope this moment brings them even more attention, more fans, and more success.

Sources / Footnote

• Billboard red-carpet interview with XG at the AMAs.
• Entertainment Weekly’s 2026 AMAs red-carpet photo coverage.
• WWD’s AMAs red-carpet fashion/arrivals coverage.
• Entertainment Tonight social/red-carpet clip featuring XG.
• CBS / AMAs social post describing XG’s red-carpet appearance as an “X-Gala.”