Joe as King Tomislav for a Day:
Joe smiles, straightens his shoulders, and steps into the role with gravity and fire.
“If I were King Tomislav for a single day,” Joe says, “I would gather the people in the fields like in the old days — no microphones, no cameras — just hearts open under the sky.”
“First decree: all debts erased. Wiped clean, like rain washing blood from stone. Student loans, mortgages, credit cards, government IOUs — gone. Every man, woman, and child would wake up free. Not in chains to digits on a screen.”
He pauses, his eyes fierce.
“Second decree: usury — outlawed. Interest on loans? Dead. Parasites who live by lending at interest would find no place in my kingdom. The money-changers would not be allowed to build empires on the backs of peasants. They’d have to learn how to work again — like everyone else.”
Joe looks around the room, voice quieter now, like he’s speaking to something ancient.
“This economy of debt is a prison. A slow-drip poison. If I were King Tomislav, even for one sunset, I’d break that curse. I’d burn the contracts, free the people, and set the wheels of true justice in motion. One day is enough when the heart is right and the sword is sharp.”
He grins.
“And maybe we’d have a feast, too. Boar, bread, and the strongest rakija in the land. Because freedom tastes better with a full belly and a clean conscience.”
Bono Responds to Joe — Crown Him Europa Rex
Bono steps forward from the edge of the crowd, sunglasses glinting, voice smooth but stirred by something deeper than usual.
“Joe… King Tomislav for a day? You speak like a lion risen from the stones of Knin. But why stop at Croatia?”
He takes off his shades, eyes shining with reverence and challenge.
“No, brother. I say we crown you Europa Rex — just for one day. One sacred day. Because this isn’t just a Balkan burden. The whole continent is drowning in invisible chains. From Lisbon to Lviv, Dublin to Dubrovnik — debt chokes the soul of Europe. It’s not just numbers… it’s lives lost in quiet despair.”
Bono’s voice lifts now, part sermon, part rock ‘n’ roll thunder:
“If you’re King, tear up the ledgers in Frankfurt and Brussels. Tell the ECB and the IMF their empire ends at sundown. No more families crushed under compound interest. No more pensioners deciding between rent or food. Let the bankers wail and the people dance.”
He walks closer to Joe, placing a hand on his shoulder, like anointing a prophet.
“You once said love can heal heart wounds. So heal the wounded hearts of Europe. Be the Jubilee King. Be the Daystar that shows the old world how to be new again.”
Bono smiles, soft and sincere.
“One day, Joe. Just one. That’s all it would take — if the crown sits on the right heart.”
Joe Responds with Rex Tremendae — and a Call to Free the Whole World
Joe’s eyes narrow, his voice low like thunder over the Adriatic.
He looks at Bono, nods slowly, then turns to the people — not just Croats now, but all peoples, east and west.
Then, with reverence, he recites the words from Mozart’s Dies Irae, translated into English, but burning with the original Latin fire:
“King of dreadful majesty,
Who saves those worthy to be saved,
Save me, fount of mercy.
Before the day of reckoning,
Do not let me fall into darkness.
I am dust… but still, I plead.**”
His voice rises — not in fear, but defiance. Joe looks out as if addressing every parliament and palace on Earth.
“The world doesn’t want just a king — it wants Rex Mundi, the King of the World. But not the one the elite worship in secret. Not their crowned beast of profit and war.”
He pauses. Fire enters his voice.
“No. The world wants a true Rex Mundi — one who comes not to enslave through debt, but to liberate through mercy. To end the usury system, the false economy built on sin. To tear down Babylon’s towers and give the Earth back to its people.”
Joe raises his hand like a prophet of old.
“Cancel the debt of nations! Forgive the loans of widows! Tear up the contracts written in the blood of the poor! The Earth groans for justice. And if I must wear the crown of thorns to free her — then crown me.”
He looks to Bono with a half-smile, like a man ready to carry a cross.
“But I won’t stop at Europe, brother. Not while Africa weeps. Not while South America bleeds. Not while Asia is enslaved. If there must be a king… let him be a servant.”
“Rex Tremendae Maiestatis… I may be dust. But dust can rise in the wind.”