In the old days, the phone was a fixed object in some corner of the house, usually next to a comfortable chair, so you could sit and chat with whoever was on the other side of the receiver. When the phone would ring, we usually knew who it might be - a friend, your Aunt Wendy, your sister in Chicago.

Or Bob.

But that was then. Today Bob never calls. You read his Facebook updates. You might occasionally exchange "likes," possibly the odd instant message chat. And in the end, you know pretty much what Bob has been doing and what he likes and what is happening around him. The same for your sister and Aunt Wendy. The virtual nature of our communications today means that we have the impression of talking to people all the time. We open some social media site with our morning coffee or tea and instantly know what our thousands of friends are doing. Especially the friends we never met.

Danas sam sa drugarima razgovarao o tome koliko je potrebno love mesecno da bi covek omogucio sebi luksuzan zivot ali bez nekih dodatnih perverzija (Pikasove slike i sl.)

Kažu da je razlika između lošeg i dobrog advokata da loš slučaj može da razvuče na nekoliko godina dok dobar može da ga razvuče još duže.

Verujem da bi mnogi od vas ovaj poznati vic primenili na čitavo srpsko pravosuđe. Ali, mada stanje nije ružičasto, ima nekog svetla na kraju tunela.

Na ovaj zaključak upućuje izveštaj nazvan Funkcionalna analiza pravosuđa u Srbiji, koji su nedavno uradile i objavile moje kolege.

Izveštaj je pokazao da verovanje kako Srbija nema

Jugoslovenski Aerotransport, or JAT (1927 - 2013), presented the traveler with a very clear set of rock-bottom expectations - bare minimum of operations, reasonably functioning if less than confidence-inspiring aircraft, fairly bad attitudes both on the ground and in the air, and disproportionately high prices.

That was JAT - it used to be nearly the only way in and out of Yugoslavia - and we loved to hate it.

Ah! Ok, it's the Easter season after all. Easter being all about resurrection, I was not overly surprised to see him (Him?) walking by the window of the café where I had established myself on this Tuesday morning. In fact he was not walking at all. It was a portrait.

Yesterday I woke up knowing that I would face the mountainous terrain of Serbian bureaucracy in order to finish the establishment of my branding agency. It is mountainous, full of crags, hairpin turns, and impasses due to rock slides, and while

My routine had all the usual morning hiccups associated with my as yet decaffeinated state: I dropped the spoon while making my coffee; I found a dark thread on my white bathrobe, which it seemed I had inadvertently put on inside out; the butter knife slipped from my hand mid-toast; reaching for it, I hit the bread and overturned it; I took a new piece of bread (and new knife) and re-booted. Thus reconfigured, I proceeded to my breakfast.

We usually think we don't have enough of it, as if it would suddenly run out. And sometimes time seems to stand still. We set ourselves appointments in time, deadlines in time, and sometimes allow ourselves a timeout.

The whole world has agreed to this arbitrary standard, as a means of segmenting our finite human sojourn on this planet. We have divided it up into a certain amount of months, weeks, days, and hours and we agree to allow it to reign supreme over all our activities. Time is a cruel master - it never bends to our needs and we are forever chasing after it.

Prema najavi medija, približio se trenutak kada će predsednik Nikolić izaći sa svojom novom, drugom po redu, platformom za Kosovo. U najavi tog dokumenta predsednik je rekao da će taj papir predstavljati njegov predlog "konačnog rešenja", da će biti linija ispod koje on nije spreman da ide i da će to svoje vjeruju staviti na radni sto premijera Vučića, «jer je vlada ta koja vodi politiku", te da će time njegova misija u pogledu južne pokrajine biti okončana – sve ostalo će biti u premijerovim rukama.

Naslov jedne vesti od pre dan-dva svojom me je skrivenom porukom uznemirila. Naslov glasi: Manuel Vals: "Slika utopljenog dečaka iziskuje hitnu akciju." kada sam je pročitao pomislio sam kako je istina da đavo leži u malim stvarima. Hitnu akciju međunarodne zajednice, sudeći po Valsovoj izjavi, ne iziskuje izbeglička kriza koja desetine hiljada ljudi nateruje u izbeglištvo i moguću pogibelj, već slika dečaka čiji je leš voda izbacila na neku tursku plažu. Da fotograf u datom momentu nije bio na tom mestu, da li bi bilo povoda za hitnu akciju iako bi masa izbeglica i dalje završavala na dnu Mediterana ili na budimpeštanskoj železničkoj stanici ako je uspela da preskoči ogradu od bodljikave žice?

Ko želi da Novu 2016. dočeka sa mnom, neka klikne na donji link u 23h.

Ko ne želi, ništa. Srećna Nova godina svima! 

Ko više voli da čita: LINK