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A certain Aca, who borrowed the name of the raft for his surname, that is, Lucas, a person without understandable ethical characteristics, became a subject. Serbia is an ideal space in which various life forms created by the hand of God or evolution appear in the light of day, even in front of television cameras, the devil would know.
You know, of course, that symbol of Belgrade’s turbo life, he publicly insulted Zaklina Tatalović in the Pink studio, something television hasn’t been for years. But something much more fun than that: an inn of fanatical defenders of the crimes of their powerful patron, the foolish master of all the lives, diseases and deaths of this country.
They are the guardians of his Luciferian oratory fire, he comes there when he wants and speaks all he wants, producing his stale confusion and his horrible intrusion into unattainable wisdom, leading to his inevitable breakup and enchanted members of the sect. .
In his justified absence, the place becomes an inn for creatures found nowhere else. They hate with all their might everything and everyone whom the master hates or does not tolerate. That is why this type of hatred towards what is different is offered on the altar of humility and loyalty.
Aca Lukas, a surname known to the competent authorities, grew up on such garbage. A mere stranger from the nocturnal vocal range, with the vocabulary of a frustrated dockworker, was introduced to the master as one of his persistent lovers. At least one strange compliment was enough, that with the unmistakable selection it chooses the most important ears in the country, which is why the pirate turbo folk rafting has already been found on the SNS stage.
The master carefully chooses the envoys of his hatred, he cannot achieve everything alone. His threshold is high, he will say that he does not care what greats like him think and say about him. He believes that he is great, and he thinks that everyone believes him, convinced that his works are unattainable for anyone. From that colossal deception, he hates all those who doubt, especially those who dislike him without reason or with irrefutable reasons.
What is Zaklina Tatalovic to him? A journalist asking questions. He does not tolerate situations that he cannot control, nor does he know how. Your digressions are a defense against the truth. Ask him anything, he will tell you about everything that is not in question. Tatalović tried what was not possible: to push him away from avoiding the street, to bring him back to the question insistently. And look for an answer. You are here to answer, brothers, and not to judge those who ask you. Before you are taken to court, you are required to pay the bills to the citizens.
Losing your self-control is not an excess, you never had it. Her touch is linked to impulse rather than reason, at first she maintains her vanity with an unpleasant cynicism, but she resists, and with all her strength she goes out to the public without limits of common sense.
Such vanity is unreasonable, it has no foundation. There is nothing here to hold on to, everything that still exists can fall apart at any moment. Perhaps he does not realize it, then he does not see anything for something that is force majeure, but it is not up to Zaklina Tatalović, let’s say judging how much the president of the SNS was damaged and what the services in charge of the official mental slide are doing.
After a failed self-control with disgusting cynicism, nervousness begins, loss of mental orientation, and an outburst of insults and put-downs. A sight too frequent to bear. Serial nervous breakdowns are not a desirable or decent form of state. Citizens live under a strong feeling of shame that the formal head of state is what he is, and out of this shame for general impotence arises the social agony of a imprisoned society.
But he passionately hates journalists and the media and all citizens who spoil his imaginary triumphs, his mythomanic victories, and the inspiration to explain them with distasteful self-respect. There is a whole colony of con artists trained for their public satire. And public sencrups where they live like worms in a corpse. And of course, Lucas, who will rudely hate anyone who sent him on behalf of.
His wild pet pedigree when the owner let him bite on command was not created by accident. Just look at the biographies of the ruling cartel’s big-name thugs! They are irrefutable arrest warrants, literary characters of fear that cannot be resisted.
In such a society, Lucas became the public face of the regime, a stuntman for important masterpieces. A model of disintegration and collapse, a model of alpha males for a future that may not even exist.
If there is no strong resistance to the public occupation of Serbia, one night when all else is extinguished, we will only have Pink.
We will see the ghosts as masters of our lives, their triumph over all truth, spreading before slaves deprived of image and voice.
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