"Once upon a time in the archipelago land, there lived a con artist affectionately known as Mulyono. He was a humble furniture salesman turned president, who promised to clean up the political swamp. Little did the citizens know, he was actually just redecorating it," the time traveller is telling a story. "As the saying goes, 'Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely'—and Mulyono was about to put that theory to the test.
The First Hypothesis: The KPK—A Comedy of Errors
Mulyono had a brilliant idea, 'Let’s give the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) a makeover!' he declared. With a flourish of his pen, he transformed the KPK from an independent watchdog into a friendly neighbourhood advisory group. 'Why let them investigate me when I can just invite them for tea?' he chuckled. The KPK now resembled more of a social club than a fierce anti-corruption body. The citizens watched in disbelief as their once-feared KPK became about as intimidating as a kitten in a room full of yarn.
The Second Hypothesis: Family Matters—Political Dynasty Edition
But wait! The plot thickens. Mulyono decided it was time for his sons, to join the family business—politics! 'Why not? It worked for the Kardashians!' he mused. With all the grace of a reality TV dad, he announced Vivivavi’s candidacy for vice president. Critics gasped at what they called nepotism. “It’s not nepotism,” MUlyono insisted. “It’s just good parenting! I’m helping my boys find their way… to power!” As Vivivavi strutted onto the political stage, complete with campaign slogans that sounded suspiciously like his father’s old ones, MUlyono beamed with pride. 'Look at my sons! They’re just like me—only younger and with better hair!'
The Third Hypothesis: The Courtroom Circus—A Family Affair
Enter the Constitutional Court, starring Uncle Usman—Mulyono’s relative! Suddenly, court rulings began to resemble family reunions more than judicial decisions. 'What’s age got to do with it?' Mulyono quipped when questioned about changing age limits for candidates. 'It’s all about who you know!' The public was left wondering if they were watching a political drama or a family sitcom. 'Is this politics or just an extended episode of ‘Keeping Up with the Mulyonos’?' they chuckled.
The Fourth Hypothesis: Public Discontent—The Reality Show
Meanwhile, disillusionment brewed among the citizens who felt like unwitting contestants in Mulyono’s political reality show. 'Will our president clean up corruption or just redecorate the swamp?' became the catchphrase of the day. Public trust dwindled as Mulyono’s promises turned into punchlines. 'Trust me,' he said during one press conference, 'I’m working hard on anti-corruption measures!' The audience erupted in laughter—was that a joke?
The Fifth Hypothesis: Ternak Mulyono The 'Ternak Mulyono' brigade thrives like a flock of overly enthusiastic canaries, chirping praises for President MUlyono while conveniently ignoring any signs of political disarray. These devoted defenders, often seen donning their 'I ❤️ Mulyono' shirts, will go to great lengths to justify every questionable decision—like a parent insisting their child’s finger painting is a masterpiece. Rumour has it that some of these loyalists are on the payroll, turning political advocacy into a full-time job, complete with performance bonuses for every time they dismiss a scandal as mere 'fake news.' So, if you ever find yourself in a heated debate about Mulyono's policies, remember: you’re not arguing with a critic; you’re facing off against a certified member of the 'Ternak Mulyono' fan club, armed with an arsenal of hashtags and an unwavering belief that their beloved leader can do no wrong—much like a devoted pet owner convinced their goldfish is the next aquatic Picasso!
In the year 2024, the world was buzzing with anticipation for the annual 'Most Corrupt Public Figure' awards, orchestrated by the prestigious OCCRP (Organized Comedy and Corruption Reporting Project, naturally). The judges, with their sharp suits and even sharper wit, had their hands full with the finalists.
Among the candidates was none other than Mulyono. But as the suspense reached a crescendo, the judges announced the ultimate winner. The award went to ousted Syrian President Bashar al-Assad, who had out-corrupted everyone else with his sinister deeds. Mulyono, humbly returned to his peaceful retirement, perhaps pondering if a reality TV show about political dynasties might be in his future.
And so, another chapter of the 'Most Corrupt Public Figure' saga came to a close, leaving the world with a bitter-sweet taste of satire and truth, and a hopeful Mulyono with a mischievous grin—awaiting his next grand adventure in the world of political theatre.
In the fantastical realm of Archipelago's politics, where logic takes a backseat and satire reigns supreme, the 'ternak Mulyono' supporters have outdone themselves this time! With the finesse of a magician pulling rabbits from hats, they boldly claimed that the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project (OCCRP) had deleted all news about Mulyonos' alleged corruption. 'Poof! It’s gone!' they exclaimed, as if wishing it away would make it true. But alas, reality had other plans, and the OCCRP’s reports remained as stubborn as a cat in a bathtub. As the truth emerged, these defenders scrambled to spin their tale, insisting that the international media was merely playing hide-and-seek with the facts. “It’s all a conspiracy!” they cried, while the rest of the world chuckled at their antics. In the end, it seemed that while Mulyono's name might be getting dragged through the mud, 'ternak Mulyono' was more than happy to roll in it—proving once again that in politics, absurdity knows no bounds!
And that, dear reader, throughout his time-travelling journey, Mulyono encounters various historical figures and learns the art of political theatre. He suppose to realize that the perception of corruption, like time itself, can be fluid and subjective."
