FLASH
Shkruar nga Sokol Pepushaj 
The fall of Ilir Meta!
Today the minority cries and the majority laughs. Tomorrow the opposite may happen – the majority cries and the minority laughs. But this matters little. The tears of Albanians are never news. The swindlers of power know the voters' tricks well: they laugh when they vote, curse them when they lose, forget them when they win.
Democracy in this country is still a baby in the cradle. The bubbles of tears do not echo – they evaporate, rise to the sky and we all breathe them in, as a silent punishment for our collective blindness.
These elections did not solve the problem either. This campaign did not burst any of the balloons of deception that are inflated every four years. The people, tired and used, no longer want change – they want alms. And whoever gives them a piece of illusion, takes away their vote.
But what is the people's fault? The bark that envelops the two parties – Ed's and Sali's – cannot be peeled off with unwashed nails or with the enemy's tools. They have made their skin of steel, impenetrable to justice. Because they don't just have votes: they have wealth, files and crimes... in common.
Ordinary people, immersed in meaningless quarrels, fight over who is the most honest thief. While the propaganda majors only go "forward", because that's what they've been ordered to do; and the "doctor's" greats do "linework, march backward", because that's what the commander tells them from the balcony of isolation.
In this country, schizophrenia has become a belief system. Rama and Berisha have become like two devils that we have mythologized, because we are accustomed to worshiping what harms us. It is no wonder that Babloku's loyal team is either in prison, or on the lists of those waiting their turn to enter. But this is no longer news.
The news is one that no one expected: the fall of Ilir Meta.
Yes, the one who swam between parties like a fish without a hook throughout the transition. The one who always came out on top, no matter where the stones were thrown. Today, Ilir Meta was left alone. Squeezed. Abandoned. Lost.
He blindly trusted Saliu, with the illusion that he would return him to parliament from prison. He ate him like a blind man who gives his hand to crime to cross the road. He relied on a man who has used, humiliated, submerged and pulled him out of political history like a rag whenever the game wanted.
Today, Like is the only big thief who was left without people. Without a party. Without a rudder. Without a helmsman.
Well, there's nothing you can do, Ilir. You're not the first. But yes, you're probably the last. And there's only one line left for you to be engraved in the epitaph of the Albanian transition:
"What did you do to yourself, Ilir Meta... how did you trust Sali Berisha?"/ Pamphlet
Lini një Përgjigje