Prologue

A DANCE ON AN INVENTED CROSSROAD
Remote Controlled

We thought that the summer was really approaching, jumping the queue. Fruit began blossoming hastily, in one day. Even the New Year decoration in Belgrade was ceremonially taken off the lampposts; the announcement was that it will significantly contribute to the growth of sales of ice-cream and sunglasses. Then, on the first day of spring, we woke up with snow, with temperature below zero. Winter won an away game in extra time. We don’t know whether it’s Granny March, or the battery on ”harp” died again, or the climate went crazy just like everything else.
Our reader Radivoje S., political analyst and blogger from the village of Trickster, wrote us the day before: ”This troublesome spring, Serbs are getting ready to make a historical compromise with their doom, unflinching in their decision to give it a different name. And cheat themselves in a game of cards. Sandwiches will be distributed for free for the long journey into emptiness. Prayerful commemorations for that occasion will be held in all ‘Ikea’ and ‘Lidl’ department stores, led by their democratically elected patriarch, probably played by Laza Ristovski or Bule Goncić… Kidding aside, if anyone can really stop this self-abolishment and bring a turn of events, it’s the Church. That’s why the Church will get a progressive Yugoslav constitution this spring for free and permanent place in the crime column, to turn to dealing with its own troubles.”
If you’re not sure which country you woke up in this morning, don’t hurry to discern. And don’t touch your remote control. Truth used to be horrible, but salutary. Now it’s only horrible.
The new edition of National Review, in spite of the raging climate and social pollution, has sprouted. Carefully watered, protected from frosts. Who knows, perhaps it will be sufficient for…