It wasn’t just Bálint’s goat you got with today’s shenanigans in the Parliament, but mine too. I swear I got the screaming abdabs because of the mindbending moves on the part of who-knows-how-many’s prime minister. Up till now, I’d held that he’s smart enough, even if an asshole. Now, only the latter stands. For today, the lines we witnessed trotted out hailed straight from dumbsville. It’s one thing to take everyone for a fool; it’s quite another not to be playing with a full deck yourself.
Of course, I get it that he has to have his homies’ backs; they come from the same litter and are at each other’s throats. He can’t let it go, for that would have far-reaching repercussions. Because they’d talk. Confess. Because they won’t be the fall guy out of loyalty or any other reason. So it stands that they have to defend each other to the last drop of snot. If one falls, so do the rest.
And it isn’t Rogán who’s the issue. The entire system stinks. The likes of Rogán, or even of Orbán, Lázár, Szijjártó and the rest exist everywhere. It’s just that such mental prevertebrates, in their plastic suits, carrying plastic briefcases and driving dodgy Suzuki Swifts, mostly sniff around pensioners’pennies by peddling magic mattresses, magnetic bracelets that cure everything but death, and bedding made of sheep, this lot here have unleashed themselves on the country.
And they aren’t content to take advantage of gullible people who are desperate to hold the signs of aging at bay. They want everything and more. They’ve shaped the system so that they can. Everything from laws to the ombudsman serves only them. The problem will come, or rather it has already, when they’re too mentally decrepit to even lie. Even their minions, more and more of them see that the emperor has no clothes. Soon – quite soon – there’ll come a child and say it. The emperor has no clothes. Do you see it?
Today, in Parliament you could almost touch the howling void between them and everyone. Now, I’m no Jobbik supporter. Nothing’s going to change that. It was precisely because of this that I found it hard to voice that the difference between their representatives’intellectual standards and those of the prime minister’s is so conspicuously vast that it can’t help but strike everyone. The impenetrable word salad spat out in response to the clear questions posed by the representatives of LMP, MSZP and Jobbik evinced unprecedented levels of mental atrophy. How dare the prime minister of however-many (officially of the country) declare that he simply doesn’t give a damn about the opposition, or the citizenry? He has cesed to even try pretending that it isn’t he who controls everything. He doesn’t even try to speak like someone who might care about what anyone thinks. He has made the decision, and that’s that. And it’s bound to be right, so all ten million of us can go to hell if we want, he’s not going to yield.
Listen up, you addle-headed little tadpole! You’re supposed to be leading an entire country, or whatever. I get it that as far as you’re concerned, we can all kick the bucket for all you care. The only thing that gets you to move is keeping your position and adding to your fortune. Nothing and noone else matters. But it would at least be good form to pretend that the people’s opinion counts. Not just good form; prudent too.
Those few select halfwitted minions of yours will stick by you til the end for sure. But there aren’t enough of them to help you pretend that you’ve won in the election. If God forbid – no! – you don’t come through in 2018, it won’t be enough to announce with your tongue flapping in the wind that those who voted for you voted for you 100%, ergo you’ve won. You can juggle the figures for a bit, for quite a bit even, but there comes a point when you cannot any more. Believe me mate, that even your most ardent Fidesznyik followers have had it up to here with Rogán. For real. If you stand by him, you’ll fall together.
Which isn’t a problem; I’m just giving you warning. I also get it that you’re cornered and have nowhere to turn. You’ve poured a heap of cash into a void referendum, whose results you were going to hastily etch into the constitution in turn, but even that fell through. All the while, the EU are breathing down your neck, and your son-in-law’s affairs are again crawling out from under the rug. I’m warning you: you won’t have the last word with your daughter of son-in-law either. They’re just as greedy as daddy. They’re going to stab you in the back. Soon. Now you’ve tried to hitch a ride on Trump’s victory, but even the dumbest will soon realize that you matter less to Trump than a dirty sock on the floor. You’re not to be reckoned with. Nor is the whole country.
So, back to reality. The tiny prime minister of a tiny country, the dwindling EU resources, the pillaged treasury, the ever-hungry kowtowing minions and the ever-angrier citizens. Ah yes, and Putin might also be demanding what’s his. What you agreed on. What you put the Paks pactum in his pocket for. What is under lock and key. But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what your plans are. No, you’re not as smart as you thought. Or as I thought. There’s be problems, dear prime minister. Big problems. But don’t worry. We’ll be there then, as we are here now. Only then, the issue won’t be which questions you’re willing to answer, and which you aren’t. But how many years you’ll be getting for what. Dýa know? You do know. That’s why you’re scared.