The devil wears credentials
CLICHÉ as it may sound, we often hear that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and nowhere is that more obvious than during election season.
Ethel Mae Gabutina is a compelling voice in Mindanaoan social commentary, known for her incisive analysis and a deeply rooted commitment to civic discourse. As a columnist and social critic, she moves beyond the headlines to explore the underlying currents of local governance, public policy, and the cultural shifts shaping Northern Mindanao. Her writing is characterized by a balance of sharp scrutiny and community empathy, often challenging established narratives to advocate for transparency and marginalized voices. Whether dissecting the intricacies of legislative probes or reflecting on the evolving identity of the modern Kagay-anon, Ethel Mae provides a platform for critical thought and meaningful dialogue. Through her opinion pieces, she invites readers to look closer at the world around them, making her one of the region’s most consistent and thought-provoking commentators.
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CLICHÉ as it may sound, we often hear that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and nowhere is that more obvious than during election season.

I’LL admit it — I’ve been unusually compassionate in my last two columns.

THERE’S a peculiar talent humanity has mastered: clapping for the wrong person. History is full of standing ovations for tyrants, creeps, and opportunists in expensive shoes. Applauding is easier than protesting — and far safer.

SOME distinguished gentlemen age like fine wine. Others like vinegar — bitter, acidic, overly full of themselves, and best kept sealed.

SEVEN is supposed to be the age of reason. But in today’s world, it’s also the age of brand-building, creative direction, and strong opinions on centerpieces.

BACK in the day, good manners and right conduct were enough.

OFFICE cliques are seen as the territory of employees — staff huddled in coffee corners or restrooms, swapping inside jokes and trading knowing glances. They’re typically talked about in hushed tones, framed as symbols of exclusivity and office politics. We expect them to form among officers, staff, or between new hires and veterans. But what happens when the cliques aren’t among employees but among the leaders themselves?

Has anybody ever called you a cougar? Or are you too embarrassed to admit it?

No matter how hard I try to keep up with Gen Z lingo, there’s always a fresh twist on an old word.

MARCH 10 — a cocktail of contrasts stirred with memory, achievement, and caffeine. It marks my father’s 31st death anniversary, my 2nd year as a columnist, and, most dramatically, my first taste of coffee after an eight-day hiatus. Life’s trilogy of bittersweet ironies. Coincidence? Or life’s twisted way of keeping me entertained?

IT’S been four days (when I started drafting this) since I temporarily started living without coffee.

As you enter marital bliss (or is misery more apt?), remember that perfection is overrated