Since he replaced the Montenegrin government, the average opposition voter looks like the unhappy Mirko Topalović in Maratonci. Zgranut watches the new leaders overturning the old homeland like Đenka Kristina - and wonders when it will be his turn. The ministers explain to him that they are just trying to manage the country. Party leaders that he too will enjoy the fruits of the election victory - only tomorrow.
While the experts are still learning and the winners are digging deep, the Montenegrin voter is still waiting for him to get better. The homeland has not become more beautiful since the democratic face-lift, nor have the divisions weakened after the historic victory. And the new government decides without consulting the deputies, and protests are counted as public debates. Parliament's control power has not been strengthened, nor do ministers read parliamentary dispatches. Government bonds are issued like in the time of the Octopus, and laws are still being changed in the dead of night. When the committee and the newly minted opposition go home to avoid being caught by the police.
From there, they can follow the Twitter wars in which the former and the new leaders exchange venomous comments. Years after Trump and Med, ministers and party leaders surrender to the charms of social networks where they can be anything they want. They enjoy a world where you don't have to change the law to block those whose opinions you don't like. There, to the delight of the Montenegrin media, state documents and aberrations from government sessions are tweeted, which no one checks or asks for the reaction of the other party. They announce shifts and hand out yellow cards. They take pictures of the big fish before releasing them back into the murky waters.
All this is interpreted by new online analysts who follow politics during the break between the baby and the discount in Delta. Public opinion is created together with Facebook academics who easily pick up foreign sayings but lack tolerance. The population is marching behind them, looking for heads on social networks. With no intention of hearing dissenting voices, quiet citizens are transformed into online fascists who do not regret threats to dissenters. The hook and the hoe are raised in the nets, while the state apparatus is silent and the parties send comforting announcements.
Partially recovered from the August refreshment, the new opposition members are no longer silent, but they repeat themselves more and more often. In the wake of the failed airline, the ministers are cursing as the new government once cursed them because of the holy places. They criticize the party's recruitment while the new government, squeamish about revanchism, sends home a member of the main committee every Sunday. While the older ones make announcements only when they have to, the younger and faster ones don't regret tweeting to defend the party. Together, they repeat mantras about an endangered state and prepare to defend the nation on the list, but their percentages of support disappear like electricity on Montenegrin ski resorts.
That is why, in the eyes of loyal voters, the largest state-building party looks like Bata Živojinović while holding Štefica Cvek in his arms. There is a lot to see until they regret their promises, but there is little chance of a happy ending. The father of the nation is once again playing the role of a zor delia who defends the country and promises victories in depth, while his party comrades leave to him hot laws and the impeachment of favorite ambassadors that they were unable to defend themselves.
To trample on promises and cohabitation and judge the Government's mistakes in its steps. During this time, former ministers distribute candy to committees, and coalition partners offer resolutions that have been waiting for years under the chairs of ministers and directors.
That's why Montenegrin Mirko Topalović doesn't really blame the part of the play he's watching, even though there's little chance that Kristina will like him as Đenka. After many years, the heads of former state officials fall before him again like stars in Bregović's poems. He listens to old prosecutors praising the new government and walks former ministers and all-powerful directors from the cabinet to the prison cells. He reads how lifelong judges go to long-deserved pensions, and retired operatives are waiting for ministers to return them to their grandchildren. He finally has the opportunity to watch the prime minister sit under the Christmas tree while the former moves to committees. To hear about the airline like Đekna and follow the Twitter wars instead of Farma and Parov. Until he is woken up from his victory frenzy by an empty stomach and an even emptier takulin. Then, democratically emancipated from last year's walks, he can grab Djenka or Kristina by the throat. Just so they don't get carried away.
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