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There are many days to talk about attempts to seize power. Some more energetic politicians are behaving as if they are starving and are trying to eliminate themselves from the competition with mongoose bites. I will return, in the next few days, to the political dealings of this anti-national national majority.
George Simion’s visit to Timisoara seems more important to me. The new star probably imagined that he would be greeted with cheers and that he would consolidate some of his patriotic capital. There the Revolution began, that is, the change. And, George Simion went to Timișoara in the hope that part of the image of the events in Timișoara, like golden dust, will spread on the wings of his party, which emerged, on December 6, from the Romanian political sewer. As soon as I heard the results of the exit polls, I underlined the appearance of a somewhat more Romanian component in politics. The Romanian people were disappointed by politicians, European arrogance, and hungry associations with the country. Disappointment also disturbed the sleep of those who went to work. Both those at home and those who escaped across the border voted by ballot to bring this patriotic party on the waves. Most did not agree with each other. They dreamed the same. Say hi to. Not because of his naivety, not because of the closed world, not because of the incoherence of his speech, but because of his patriotic warmth. The return to the country and the Romanian people seemed to me, and it seems to me, a path with less thorns. Only the days following the ray of hope on the afternoon of December 6 do they begin to smoke. It does not go off, but it blinks and emits smoke. George Simion switches the television as if he wanted revenge for the years when he was ignored. Unfortunately, spinning the same 20-30 words and the same 3-4 ideas doesn’t go up, take a step, or get bored and down. And the other high-party communicators in our miserable political life repeat the same four or five ideas and spin the same 20-30 words. They trade televisions with each other and fall victim to stupid questions from amateur scandal reporters. Probably only the goalkeeper stayed at the party headquarters. And he, having come to the center of attention, also gives interviews.
It doesn’t work that way! GOLD quickly falls into the empty language of Gheorghe Funar and Corneliu Vadim Tudor. Little by little, he loses the light of hope and dives into the well of failed projects. In order not to go out, in order not to be ridiculed, AUR needs lucidity, critical spirit, unified discourse and voices capable of getting out of the commonplaces of parade patriotism. George Simion must understand (if he can!) That the path of his group passes through the ghosts of Vadim and Funar, on the one hand, and the Iron Guard, on the other. With empty words, with diatribes without moral height, with pretensions without intellectual armor, with puddles on television in headless and tailless political quarrels, he gets nowhere.
The boos in Timisoara are the most important wake-up call. Otherwise it may be one that heralds the steep slope.
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