Nastiness and nastiness

Isn't that the height of imperial contempt? Throw in a bunch of jovanovs, martinovics, coppersmiths and their terrible underlings, in the belief that it is not necessary to make more effort than that, to offer something at least a little more decent taste

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Photo: Facebook
Photo: Facebook
Disclaimer: The translations are mostly done through AI translator and might not be 100% accurate.

It might be worth saying a few words about squeamishness. Because she too - or her absence - reveals something about a person.

Aleksandar Vučić, as we have seen, is squeamish about Parisians. He is so squeamish that even with the help of his own propaganda, he could not force himself to bite into a sandwich in the middle of which that meatless meat product is chopped. That's why two critical minutes are missing from the video that was supposed to be from the genre "three mongooses on an excursion quenching their hunger", i.e. exactly the one where you would see how Vučić really inserts a symbolic piece of Parisian into the organism (so what happens). Missing a crucial two minutes from the recording - it is already becoming a routine operation from his ruler's repertoire. Both a serious crime and a dastardly little lie are covered up by a willful fling of the flow of time.

On the other hand, Vučić is able to show an astonishing rudeness towards people. Not to all people, of course: at the mention of nasty people, he very often publicly and ritually vomits, but that's why particularly nasty ones have a calming effect on his digestive and nervous system; irradiated by them, he purrs like a cat.

So, he is something like a political Kareli: he can digest just about anything, including a bicycle, a Trabant, and an entire cargo ship that transports toxic waste. From the latter, moreover, he blushes and is overcome by incredible enthusiasm, so much so that he cannot stop even for his own good.

Well, he still doesn't eat people - but then again, he doesn't eat Parisians either - but some of them wouldn't look any worse even if he chewed them up. What was performed these days, for example, by a certain Milenko Jovanov, in the so-called televised duel with Zoran Lutovec on RTS, it wouldn't have looked worse even if Vučić had already kicked him with a spoon, and if he started from the brain. Now, it's not Jovanov's first time, nor is Jovanov the first among the creations of Vučić's Karelian cooking that demonstrated to us that there are much worse things in the world than the worst Parisian - and that after standing, I mean Parisian, for a week in an overheated car - and that, for some reason, these are the products that Vučić prefers to serve to his loyal customers.

Isn't it interesting how Lutovac expressively and understandingly quoted the words of that same Jovanov from some previous, let's say belching-phase, when he spoke the worst about his current master, and which Jovanov vehemently ignored, as if it had never been said?

Jovanov, of course, did not cheat on Vučić: he knows very well that Vučić knows well. It is, moreover, an important part of their nutritional relationship. There are other such dilbers, like Aleksandar Martinović or Bakarec Nebojša, who will for life, without squeamishness towards any abomination that is given to them for their home country, repent for the sin of delusional vilification of Vučić from the "right" side, to which he is innately sensitive.

And why isn't Vučić mean to them (apart from the fact that he's usually not mean to me)? Because, just like the Parisians, they are not intended for him and his camarilla, but for the simple regiment, unwilling Parisian brigades whose bones will be crunched in a mixer until completely disfigured.

Isn't that the height of imperial contempt? Toss in the ordinary jovanovs, martinovics, coppersmiths and their terrible underlings, in the belief that it is not necessary to make an effort more than that, to offer something at least a little more decent taste. That belief, after all, has proven to be correct until now, and as long as it is, why should anything change?

Therefore, you tune this or another Jovanov to the appropriate frequency and let him tinker, while you are free to dedicate yourself to more important and more lucrative jobs during that time. And what are those jobs? Well, let's say that this is all that those three mangupes from the Parisian video and their crew retroactively write in their heritage, including ourselves, which they write as serfs.


Bonus video:

(Opinions and views published in the "Columns" section are not necessarily the views of the "Vijesti" editorial office.)