I finally came back from vacation, of which, due to circumstances, I spent half of it in the hospital. And - what am I saying? What are my hospital impressions? And these and those! Mixed up.
First of all - I drew attention to this before - hospitals, which rank quite low on the Serbian top-list of institutions of national trust, are the most organized and well-ordered places in this country. In addition, as soon as they find themselves behind the hospital walls, people change their mood - suffering ennobles them - somehow they become more solidary, friendlier, more ready to help. But that is not the topic of our column today, I have already written about it in many of my novels and, as if by unwritten rule, I ended up in each of the departments where I hospitalized my heroes. It remains for me to thank God that I didn't mention the department of ectotics, oncology and African sakagia, and to get to the point.
So I get up on the first morning at early dawn and rush (within the limits of my modest capabilities) to the kitchenette to mix up a three-in-one, and then go out in front of the clinic and smoke two or three cigars illegally, when in the kitchenette the TV is set to Pink, and on the TV (I repeat at the crack of dawn) protosevast and hartophylax, krle22. Fortunately, the sound was turned off, so I was lucky enough not to hear Krlet's speech, but I wondered if, in the nature of things, it wouldn't be more normal for Dr. Krle22, as a doctor by profession, to sit in the hospital and convince me that smoking is harmful, instead of overflowing hollow to empty, always half right.
Later in the day, I was plagued by dark thoughts. What, I asked myself, was with the thunderous national dialogue about Kosovo this spring. I concluded that there was no dialogue, that, admittedly, there were a few collective monologues in which the Serbian maximalists expressed their determination to keep the situation quo until the Šiptars call for a better-known right and return to scraping wood, making baklava and selling chickpeas, while "it is softer strujja" insisted on the same program, with certain compromises. The church, on the other hand, like the church, instead of saying "God gave, God took away" blames the eternal wisdom "that once you give something, you can never get it back". Which is far from the truth.
During those hospital days, my intuition kept whispering to me that He the Supreme, as an intelligent man, knows perfectly well that of all the bad solutions available, the least bad is to recognize the Republic of Kosovo, and then start from the beginning for the first and second time in recent Serbian history. I am very interested in who would stand in his way? Shake with your stomach. Palma, who - after He the Most High appointed an Anjou woman as prime minister - after a few days of fooling around, fell into the temptation to sew leather pants with a slit on the ass. Maybe Miša Vacić. Or Ours. Go run away. Vučić in Serbia has the power that only Peter the Great had in Europe in the XNUMXth century.
But - there, even though he is only a little shorter than Peter, it seems that he does not have the "height" to cut the beards of the boyars and thus save Serbia from becoming Western Abkhazia. Prekardaših, so I ask krleta22 to - since the Supreme does not read Danas - briefly explain to the Supreme why Serbia, if false mythologies are not exposed, will become Western Abkhazia. A mini-series follows.
(danas.rs)
Bonus video:
