Dizzy, shaken (like Adrian Năstase and Ion Iliescu here above) figures that make Dickens’ Bleak House look childish. An absolute nonsense Romanians like to chat, complain and gossip about, but do nothing to change. Old communist propaganda, an everlasting circus which, joined by some cheap wine and cheaper salami, makes it for a living in 21st century Romania. Welcome! But let me start with the point where it all should have ended. In a decent country inhabited by mature people that is (which is not the case in Romania).

The 1944-1989 period saw the raise of the typical uneducated, ass-kicking and grave-stepping moron which only had two so-called qualities: no background at all and no other prospects but that implied by his promoting Communism, a word he was not even able to define for himself. The result? People like Ceaușescu’s court poets (and respective ass-lickers), Corneliu-Vadim Tudor and Adrian Păunescu (which for one would have been a great, gifted poet, provided he had stayed out of that crap, yet he did not and he was diligently mourned by the mob when he passed away in November 2010). People like Ion Iliescu which even now, nearly two decades after the theoretic (but only theoretic) fall of Communism have the guts to show themselves around and bark the typical shit in their crypt, dead language, using the same phrases and idioms. Other than that, the over 50 years of Communist rule saw the former elite leave the country, continue to fight in the mountains (and die up there or in prisons like Pitești, Gherla or Sighet), get imprisoned even without fighting the new rule or play along with the new Communist intelligence service (later to turn into the much feared Securitate). This was nothing to stay clear of unless one wanted to turn into a vegetable and do nothing but think about what he / she could not do or talk about.

December 1989 came around, people died in the streets of Timișoara or Bucharest; people that believed there was to come a change if they gave their lives. Yes, there was, plenty of it: Brifcor - flavoured crap. First of all because this was no Revolution, but a coup Iliescu’s gang could not control at a certain moment and needed to change the shape of. And then because Romanians are survivors only through their not reacting to anything other than in endless chat and complaining. People like Moscow-schooled, Ceaușescu-bred Iliescu, as well as puppets like Silviu Brucan and Dan Iosif shaped post-”Revolution” Romania, closely following their own face pattern. Students went out and occupied University Square for nearly half a year, an action that should have shaken this country back to life, like it did in Bangkok, Thailand in early December 2008. But this is no Thailand; Romanians like to sit back, hands in their pockets and the typical “dunno, wasn’t me, cannot do” on their grim faces. So students protested and subsequently died for nada; Iliescu called upon the angry miners of Jiu Valley (as their mines were to close for lack of efficiency once Ceaușescu’s over-centralized economy was gone); being promised a shiny whatever, being stirred’n joined by Iliescu’s new Secu’ pack, they came to Bucharest, beat the shit out of students, pissed on their university and set Order, the “1984” fashion. This was not enough for Romanians, which once again sat back, watched the TV and believed the crap they were being granted simply because it was more comfortable to do that than to take any (personal, therefore possibly accusing) action.

At least ten years of bullshit followed. Ten years of Iliescu’s “we do not sell our country to foreigners” (as opposed to the coming of foreign investment), of “you shut up, for you haven’t eaten soya salami with us during Communism” (a message to the Romanian diaspora and other dissidents), of “Guaranteeing [the right to] property means restricting one’s right to his own property” and the rest of the rotten bananas Romanians kept (and still keep) on buying. Years that saw the appreciation of old anti-Communist figures (which served long terms in prison for that) only once they were dead - as this was good for one’s public image (yeah, I am referring to Corneliu Coposu). Years that saw the ascension of figures like Adrian Năstase, a more than corrupt figure the tupeu of which defied (and still defies) any limit. Years that saw the glorification of nouveau riche, retard figures like Gigi Becali, most Romanians criticize but adore using the language and behaviour of. Years that saw nullities like Iliescu loudly bark at the rare young intellectual (like Horia-Roman Patapievici) for daring to be different or for accusing the regime, while Iliescu’s shit spitting was applauded by the crowds. Years where the former King of Romania was denied entry to the country for a long while, for Fear that he might stir people against the omnipresent Moron. For Fear was (and still is) the fault within every Romanian people like Iliescu still count on when putting together a speech: Fear of what there can happen if one is different, Fear of one’s neighbour, father, daughter, superior or of oneself. Fear of taking any sort of action.

Years have passed on, Romania is now part of N.A.T.O. (because N.A.T.O. needed it there, not that Romania did some glorious efforts to get there), respectively of the E.U. (because the E.U. needed it there). I would lie to say things are not changing for the better; they do. But this does not happen because of Romanians. It only happens because they realized this is the time to like E.U. values to survive. Not that they believe in them. Not that they believe in anything; just look at all people going to church on Sunday. Before 1989 they would have turned in to the Securitate anyone that would have dared touch the door handle of a church, any church in this country. And they would have laughed at it afterwards, while sipping some black market Havana Club rum. As for the Romanian politician, no news, good news: nouveau riche, same old habits, demagogic speeches, same old retort, mockery, shit spitting and an endless Muppets Show, like the Băsescu (the Master of Puppets, Iliescu style, but lacking his rotten retort and featuring less a narrow-minded profile) - Stolojan - Boc (Ding and Dong, respectively the puppets) act in December 2008.

The future? If it really matters, it is a future made of convenience, opportunities and betrayal. A future where the more one’s lack of action hurts one’s neighbour, the more one laughs in excitement and wanks on that comfy, soft pillow strategically set in front of the TV set tuned on the 5 o’clock news, while opening yet another 2 liter, plastic bottle of cheap beer. Dolce. Dolce far’ niente.