My crazy homeland

Before May 21st became Montenegro's Independence Day, Ricky Martin had largely come to terms with the fact that he was no longer a global star. Album sales were falling and Livin' la Vida Loca She was no longer filling stadiums, so the former sex symbol was preparing for early retirement. Then tours became the exception and their hits were only played on '90s hits radio stations and in passive areas. Surrogate children were raised, they lived off royalties and even retired stars did not dream of singing at national holiday celebrations.

While Ricky Martin was preparing for his musical retirement in 2006, Montenegro was living a second youth. Once the poorest republic of the SFRY was scheming like the Luxembourg of the Balkans and enjoying the attention of dubious foreign investors. The duet of Sergej and Danijela was being listened to and the citizens didn't care much about the chronic lack of democracy. Evergreen speeches about reconciliation and Montenegro without losers were played on repeat, and in the Constitution, after the ecological, the civil state was also checked.

The father of the nation was in one of his most potent phases - and such states usually mean one goal in mind and a thousand unfulfilled promises. After which there are no regrets.

And there will certainly be regrets in these mild days, when the country celebrates independence. Many voters will admit that in May 2006 they did not imagine such a country, and will remind us of all the wrong turns. They will explain that the country is not defended with flags, but with independent institutions, and will pray to Brussels as to Saint Basil for salvation from Kurta and Murta. When the heart is calmed by prayer, perhaps they will also admit that in these two decades Montenegro has progressed in some places.

There is no longer a private state from the prophecy of Peđa Bulatović in which wealth is reserved only for brothers and godfathers. Over time, many civil servants have also grown fat on the state trough, without whose seal one cannot do, and the private state has been successfully transformed into a joint-stock company in which capital is divided according to political strength. In AD Montenegro, state dividends are still charged historically Yes and heal the traumas of 2006, and only the poor wave flags while state shareholders are destroying the homeland.

Smuggling has evolved from a family business into an industry. It is no longer a state job reserved for the chosen few, so anyone who is willing to take a risk and put their head in a bag can be a smuggler. Legal oblivion has covered the smuggling bards from the indictment from Bari, but Montenegro today can boast of clans that have been heard of far beyond Italy. Citizens are no longer divided into sovereignists and unionists, but into Skaljarci and Kavčani, and Montenegrin youth are no longer languishing at the Labor Bureau but are chatting on Skye, shooting in the streets and packing drugs.

Political ideals no longer cause parties to split, let alone godfatherism, so there is no longer a division between the government and the opposition that made Pajović and Đurović's flight into exile unforgivable. The government was no longer just comprised of helpless experts and parties below the threshold, and instead of ministers, holograms who receive a salary can sit in the cabinets. There is no longer any elitism in the state administration, so officials can also be ordinary mortals. All that is needed is good will and a diploma that no one will ask at which sale it was bought.

The judiciary no longer depends on just one political sponsor, and the media is free to change masters without fear. With a decade's delay, the promise of honest intelligentsia that democracy will come after the state has been fulfilled. Instead of referendum champions, the church has brought it, and many voters and politicians have an obligation to it with every vote. That is why our politicians and voters are increasingly religious, even though they are following AI fugitives with due diligence while airing other people's dirty laundry.

In such a Montenegro, there is no room for shyness that Independence Day is not celebrated with Italian tenors, but with sleazy Latino shopkeepers. A country that did not know how to appreciate the Rolling Stones on the foam of the sea, deserves to celebrate with Ricky Martin and Bajo Mali Knindža. So when they introduce us to the European Union in 2028, we will demand that they bring Taylor Swift or at least Bad Bunny to Independence Square.