I love this life in Montenegro, I love the smell of gasoline in the trunk. I love Montenegro because it allowed me to pour fuel, liters and liters of fuel that burns in the engine. I have a car. I have to fill up the tank and drive. But if I want to drive further, I need a highway. That's why I give seven cents from every liter of gasoline to the state to pay the debt. And the state got into debt for the highway. Seven cents is the price of luxury, because the Prime Minister said that gasoline is a luxury. If gasoline is a luxury, then what good is the highway? Who wants to drive on that highway? Well, we, the citizens of Montenegro, who live in luxury, and we tend to whine all the time. In fact, look at the pumps, and you will see how the people live. Life is great in Montenegro and it's a real blessing that there is a politician honest enough to say so.
Do you have a car? Do you have soups to pour? I don't know what else a man can invent, what kind of perversion and mood he can afford. By pressing the gas pedal, you pump fuel into the engine, which burns the given liquid and releases energy that moves the wheels. And what are you doing? You just hold the steering wheel, turn left and right and practically direct the vehicle in the direction that suits you. If someone can tell me a better definition of luxury, let them try, but it seems to me that when I see a car, when I see how sovereign the man looks in it, sovereign like Montenegro, how much he aches for all the problems of traffic and pedestrians - I really say - and this one managed even if the guy at the pump made it.
Every citizen who drives should hope for even greater luxury when the first section of the highway is finished; driving is faster on the highway, so we will have to buy slightly better cars, but also less gasoline is consumed on the highway than in city driving, so the economic calculation is clear. Only the benefits remain - a citizen of Montenegro drives along a luxury highway in a luxury car and really lives a kind of Montenegrin dream, while the sharp smell of fuel that is a derivative of oil irritates the nostrils, and it is known that oil is called "black gold" and I really don't understand the Facebook hysteria of crazy people who attack Prime Minister Đukanović for his visionary words, words of sobriety.
Fuel is a luxury, what did you think gang, did you think that fuel is something you want? As if you, unfortunate reader of these lines, don't know how many wars are fought because of that fuel, and instead of appreciating what you have, the fact that the Government has enabled you to drive freely, with minimal restrictions on basic traffic regulations that you don't respect anyway, instead of kneeling down and you kiss that car that's still rolling - you, poor thing, would wish that fuel were falling from the sky, that someone else would pay for the highway, you would wish that you had two cars and that all this was not called luxury.
I look at you, my satisfied citizen of Montenegro, how you change gears, how you raise the handbrake, how you honk at your fellow man, I see how you go wild in the streets and really look fed up in traffic, Milo knows that well, he is an experienced psychologist, he does not accidentally say that fuel is a luxury, he doesn't even think that fuel is a luxury, but he knows that YOU think so, citizen, who has allowed you to be scolded very well at least twenty times and every reduction in salary makes you a bigger slave that lowers the scale of luxury, once it was caviar, but today it is gasoline - the caviar of transition.
You have to admit that it feels good while there is fuel, because the leader implicitly tells you to load up and prepare for the time when there is no fuel, maybe you remember, it wasn't that long ago when your parents were standing in line for fuel, remember generation, you didn't care because you were fifteen years old and all your wits were in your underpants... But today, when I see you sovereignly driving your sweet car around Podgorica and voting for Milo in every election, today I'm happy when that Milo scares you a little that maybe YOU will find yourself in the fuel line and finally understand why your parents went crazy, how they were when that same Milo scolded them while filling up on hot smuggler's cash, and we children drank powdered Ukrainian milk, which is especially grateful for cakes and pastries.
You see, my dear reader, that's why I think that fuel is luxury, because I measure luxury by the level of consciousness of a nation, and this nation of ours is at the level of a physiologically dull creature that adores being overpowered by someone and doing it with as much sadism as possible, yes tell him that he doesn't deserve the life he's living, and already tomorrow, you'll see, calmly accept that fundamentally unimportant truth - that fuel is a luxury.
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