Let's be honest, you got caught on tape, you crazy bitch. So now what? Well, you can walk away from it and resign and let your airhead-mouthpiece former news anchor vice president take over, which would be just as crazy. Or, you can go out with guns blazing ala Butch Cassidy and let the sun shine for the last time on the legacy you have tainted beyond repair. To do that, you have to let all the cats out of the bag, name all the names, show all the receipts, and point with all eleven fingers.
You weren't as sly as you thought. Yes, making the phone calls yourself was an exceptionally poor lack of judgment (it really was stupid), but the worst mistake you made was marrying that slob you have for a husband. And then, you let your in-laws run for government too. You should have stopped them in the last family reunion.
Clearly, you should find consolation in the fact that they helped bring you down -- no, this wasn't all your fault. But since you flip-flopped between running the last time, you can indeed blame yourself for this mess.
So, in the haze of all this agonizing self-realization that you've completely screwed up, here's my suggestion on how you can go out in style: plead insanity:
Start drawing pictograms and sending them to the press, talking about how Adam and Eve is connected to Apple computers. Start building a house in your home province that looks exactly like Malacanang, for fear of missing it. As your final Executive Order, rename NAIA back into MIA and sign it quick. Then, dissolve the Department of Interior and Local Government and instead reinstutute the PNP as the sole policing body in the country. Also, make the native Texas panabong the national bird thereby making sabong unconstitutional. Finally, as a rider on the next congressional bill, move to erase all records and memory of Robert Jaworski's senatorship.
Then, after seeking psychiatric and spiritual help for your drinking and gambling problems, suddenly develop bad knees for which you are to receive treatment from a U.S-based doctor that can only operate on you in another country. Let your children and relatives continue to run for government and allow them to suffer the humiliation of your warped mind. Then, claim that you know who really killed Ninoy Aquino *and* Nida Blanca. Never mind if it's real, we just want names.
Finally, in your dying wishes speak to Mikey (Cojuanco, not your son) and tell her that she *can* be the next president if she wants to, and make her believe it. Make sure she gets a spiritual adviser early on, like now. Then, ask that your dead body be refrigerated for, like, ever, until you are allowed to be buried right underneath Malacanang, where you believe you belong in a final act of contrition and atonement for all you've done -- and let every single person coming through those halls step on your marker, which shall read: Here Lies Gloria. Likes Making Her Own Calls.
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