It makes no difference whether someone steals-cheats-lies because they’re sick, or they’re sick because they steal-cheat-lie

MTI MTI

The condition of the onereferred to as Orbán isn’t getting any better, but worse and worse. That he has long severed contact with reality is a foregone conclusion. Whether he has created the alternative universe he inhabits in his sick mindunconsciously as a basis for his pathological lying, insatiable hunger for power, and belief in his own infallibility, invincibility and unaccountability or the other way round, I have no idea.

However, that his lies are all pervasive is certain and only God or abug-eyed shrink might be able to ascertain if he really does believe his own bullshit, or merely pretends to. Whichever is the case, he remains accountable. It makes no difference whether someone steals-cheats-lies because they’re sick, or they’re sick because they steal-cheat-lie

Today’s weekly dose of verbal diarrhoea he emitted on radio Kossuth also seems to confirm my diagnosis and fit right in with his general trainwreckery. The prime minister of a very small minority, he kicked off with the assertion that immigration and migration constitute the prime issues of our lives in the country. Not just this morning, but for many years to come. I feel it apt to remark that during the entire radio interview (Orbán+mic stand=interview, in Fidesz parlance) the great leader had emitted such guttural rumbles and slurps that I couldn’t help but see before me his wayward purple tongue randomly darting out of his mouth and hear the rabid clunking of his eyeballs as they whizzed about in their sockets.

So: we don’t, haven’t, and, most of all, won’t have anything to worry about in our wretched little lives than immigration.

Attention please! Not migration. Movement of peoples. This means that Orbán has conceded to take back a few from Merkel, on pain of some very harsh measures. So he has taken a few back.  By the way, this is clearly noticeable in the shift in the tone of governmental communication. But even outside government rhetoric, who’s spotted even a single immigrant in this Godforsaken shithole of a country? Because for my part, I’ve only spied migrants on their way to better places; not a single one of them wanted to remain here. What’s more: I see fewer and fewer Hungarians who plan to stay.

The country has become uninhabitable in every possible way. Because it’s a whole different ballgame when, say, in the wake of a natural disaster or a world war, a country’s inhabitants pull together and rebuild their country, even in the face of massive odds. In times like those, everyone is equal; all everyone has is their bare hands. But now it’s not like that. Now a few bottom feeders gorge themselves on common funds, with the great majority precariously perched on the edge of the abyss.

Nowhere else in the world could a gasman, who is barely scraping by, become a billionaire entrepreneur virtually overnight. Nowhere in the world can this happen, and nowhere would the story fly. Only the good old Hungarian bigots of Orbán’s sect are able to convince themselves that a classless oik, utterly devoid of anything in the way of mental powers or indeed courage could make this leap.

Especially if the above mentioned is a neighbour-cum- skivvy of Orbán.

Nor would the people of anywhere from Iceland to Timbuktu – except Hungary – buy that a jumped-up little minister could afford to pay for the upkeep of a luxury apartment, helicopter trips, family holidays in Bahrein out of his salary, or that of his wife, who hasn’t done a stroke of work in years, since exerting herself as a typist, if we don’t count a zombie joint venture with Sarka Kata (media celeb) in the last four months.

All this can only be got past your average Hungarian sheeple. But even they’d need cranial folds smoother than a baby’s bottom to take for granted the feverishly paced thickening of the prime ministerial family’s wallets, including that of his father, wife, children and son-in-law. In any normal country, anyone without extensive evidence would conclude that there was only one way this could be possible: through theft. Theft equals corruption. Ya know? Well, thismustn’t be mentioned – though if I was in the Orbán family’s position, I wouldn’t force it, I swear – but  immigrants have to be paraded everywhere. Who don’t exist. Emigrants, now you’re talking – but they don’t matter at all.

While this mentally challenged individual and his minions keep waging war, the country slumps further into decay. Whoever is able, leaves as soon as they can. Those who’ve already left and return to visit after a few months or a year, stand petrified and lost for words. Because absence makes the heart grow fonder, yes, but in reality everything is decaying, greying, putrefying. The ever more faded streets teem with sad-eyed – if not livid – people. In a foul mood, unsmiling, in ever cheaper Chinese-made clothes. The ruin becomes ever more evident with each and every mile out of the capital.

Of course, I do believe that many are unable to see this. I wouldn’t see it if I didn’t want to either. If I didn’t go out to Nógrád, Borsod, Szabolcs counties. If I wasn’t talking to people. Then I wouldn’t see it either. Because I’m not starving, nor do either of my neighbours. But this doesn’t mean that no-one else is on the breadline. It always gets my goat when these sheeple trot out the line that malls and supermarkets are chock full. Of course they are, duh. But not with those below the breadline. They’re not to be found there.

I haven’t the faintest idea when this can be over. When will we collar the main thief and his kowtowing minions and ask them whence all that wealth, dears? Would it all perchance be the price of the country’s progress? Or that of a dignified dotage for many of our senior citizens? Or our own dignified years to come? Or our children’s present and future? Is it not our grandchildren’s happiness we’ve traded in for a slap in the face and a kick in the teeth by a wealthy few? Because I think it is. This is what we have given up. It’s time to reclaim it all. It’s time we made order.

Written by: Edgar Swan

Translated by: Gábris Judit

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