I've heard the news today, oh boy!

You might have not heard yet but the Prime Minister of Italy, Silvio Berlusconi, got attacked a couple of days ago.

He got hit by a plaster “Duomo di Milano” replica right on that small spot between mouth and the tip of the nose: a nasty spot indeed...and a bloody one too, from what appears from the pictures taken after the fact.

For the record Berlusconi was attending a public event the night he got “ambushed” and you also might not know that more or less last week he came down pretty hard on Italy's President Napolitano and all the justice apparatus (better yet, the part of it investigating him for “organized crime-related issues”).

Now the tension in here is pretty palpable: Facebook groups claiming the head of the attacker, others trying to name roads after him, some just linking the video of the agression (oh yeah...we got it all on tape...HD baby!) with the only comment ROFLMAO.

What I am trying to say here is that being this a political matter first of all, all it took was a small(-ish) piece of clay that smashed Berlusconi's face in to turn the political switch back on among the “shallow” cyber comunity in Italy...who would've guessed that!?

I am also not trying to say I am above the laughter: infact what I wrote so far was just an introduction to my first reaction, which I wanted to share with you.

Berlusconi's face when he gets hit is pretty fucking funny!!

Like the face Josef Blatter made when he fell into that hole during that Fifa ceremony (footage that was on for weeks on one of Mediaset shows...everybody in Italy have seen it atleast once)...except Blatter did all that thanks to his wit...silly silly man...

Anyway, my point is: funny? Yes. Hilarious? Not really.

Hilarious would have been the same guy running up to the “Invincible” (I'm quoting Berlusconi himself here...) Prime Minister and kicking him the nuts, hard, like that guy in the jumpsuite and orange wig from the tely!

That would have been a freaking hilarious masterpiece of italian politics!

Now, instead, we have something mildly grotesque: the whole cabinet and the PdL asking for retribution, an opposition condemning the act but also implying (“openly” implying let's say, in some cases...like Di Pietro...) that Berlusconi has been fishing for an “ass whooping” the last two mandates (and that's being generous...) and the media world gone wild like wolves on a dead dear...

With a kick in the nuts everybody would have been just too busy laughing their asses out to care about the political side of the accident, which was, as it happens, the random act of violence of a quite disturbed fellow.

Of course there are also some conspiracy theories, all very interesting and all very entertaining but the bottom line is: we have “our guy”, the perpetrator, so we are pretty much satisfied in the “justice department”... all we want now is more gossip!!

We want to know everything, real or not real, about this Tartaglia guy.

We want to know when a next attack is expected for (i'm not shitting you, people-mostly dumb people, to be fair- are actually waiting for an escalation...ye, I know...imagine what would have been the escalation of a kick in the nuts!!!) and what happened and what was said in the hospital during the two days Berlusconi was “held” there.

Yes! Held! The Prime Minister was actually full of rage and spunk and clearly wanted to kick Tartaglia's ass: it would have taken just the pinky of one of his bodyguards to brake that coward in two, I bet!

The bastard that from a distance of at least one or even two meters (two meters! Wow! Almost like impossible to wrap your mind around that concept...), like a sniper hiding in the shadows and waiting for the right moment, cowardly attacked one of the most heavily guarded persons in Europe and managed not to get butt-raped by a big dude in a suit with a 234 size of shirt collar!

You gotta love Italy right now, I tell ya!

To conclude let me indulge a bit on this thought I had: let's say that I was writing a pure fiction novel with the same elements as the abovementioned; what would be a better ending than the scared and scarred leader fakely (...that's right! I can make up words!...my blog, my words!) retiring from politics “for it would not be safe for him and his family anymore” just to wait for his followers to chant in the streets for his glorious return as Prime Minister, or better yet a “constitutionally improved” return as full USA-style President?

That would be a great book, right?

Pure fiction of course, being the Prime Minister even in the least interested on becoming...ooops!

Entertaining and scary! The kind of book that makes the big bucks nowadays...

Meanwhile we'll just have to cope with fuck-heads saying “what would be illegal about giving the Tartaglia guy to us for justice instead of leaving him in the cares of the inefficient legal system?”

P.s. Read this fast because the goverment is seriously thinking about censorship on every webpage instigating to violence and related to the bleeding mouth incident (not a snuff movie)....kidding...not really...yes I am...ask Maroni if i'm kiddin'...

going home

So, this is my last post from Asia and i'm writing it in english so all the great people who made this trip possible can comment.
First: diarrhea is like taxes when you travel, someone might say, for it will come, sooner or later.
I had the luck to get attacked by the vicious disease in Bangkok the day before my flight back to Italy, where I could benefit of a clean and private bathroom in my hotel room.
My concern is the airplane experience.
Will I stink up the all plane and force the captain to emergency land and throw me out, like someone suggested me?
Thanks for giving me that new paranoia, by the way...
As usual I ended up talking about shit...
Second: I was walking around looking for souvenirs and gifts in Kao San Road (where the morning is an experience of smells that remind you how drunk everyone was the night before) and i realized that it would be a waste of time.
The same crapy bracelets, dishes and whatnot are easily found all around the world for, pretty much, the same money.
My logical conclusion is this, then: fuck souvenirs and gifts from Kao San Road.
I'm gonna stick with Toblerone from airport: a classic!
Third: I can't stand the heat anymore.
I'm a cold guy.
Fourth: Le Mangueise (I think it's written like this but not positive) it's by far the coolest place I've had the luck to visit and, as a plus, I made new awesome friends there.
In conclusion, if I was (and still am) not exactly in my element for various reasons (height, weather, culture, etc) this was the most thrilling and mindblowing trip I've ever taken and I guess it will keep the title for quite a long time.

Thanks everyone.

Sir Crapalot

Ultimo giorno a Bangkok

Oggi e' il mio ultimo giorno a Bkk e se da un lato non ho visto che una minuscola parte di questa immensa metropoli orientale straripante di Buddha(s?) e mercanti del sesso, dall'altro non vedo l'ora di lasciarmi alle spalle lo smog che mi si e' attaccato alla pelle come una pellicola adesiva.
Devo dire che non mi intristisce nemmeno l'idea di abbandonare un posto dove il Palazzo Reale e' fatto d'oro massiccio a 24 carati (una guida commentava orgogliosa come tutti i soldi del biglietto d'ingresso, circa 10 euro, vadano nella manutenzione di un intonaco cosi prezioso...ovviamente passando prima nel Portafogli Reale...) ed e situato giusto alla fine di un viale dove c'e gente che dorme su materassi fatti di sacchi di immondizia...
Alle sette di domani mattina prendero un bel bus che in 9 ore circa mi portera' a Siem Reap, da dove potro' visitare i templi di Angkor.
Spero onestamente (anche se so gia' che e' fatica sprecata) di non diventare anche laggiu' il tizio di cui tutti si ricordano perche' "very tall eheheh"....
A presto.

Arrivato a Bangkok

Eccomi arrivato a Bangkok, capitale dal nome azzeccatissimo e dalle tastiere senza ne accenti ne apostrofi.
Per tutti i miei fan posso garantire che il viaggio e stato un incubo vero e proprio e in questo momento sono sveglio da piu ore di quante ne riesca a contare...
Non sono ora in grado di descrivere con precisione i due animali rarissimi e grazie a dio in estinzione che ho avuto come vicini di posto nelle due tratte di volo per arrivare fin qui ma posso dire che me li ricordero a lungo....
....se non altro per avermi tenuto sveglio con il loro parlarmi di cose di cui non mi interessava una mazza....ma di gente che non riceve segnali palesi ne e pieno il mondo...
La prima immagine di questo posto che vorrei commentare, comunque, e il biglietto di auguri gigante per il compleanno del re della thailandia (il 5 dicembre prossimo): una gigantografia della sua faccia su sfondo DORATISSIMO con la scritta che io credo voglia dire "buon comple vecchio animale"....sembra che butti da bere a tutti il 5 sera...
La seconda immagine e invece quella di una ragazza di neanche 25 anni che collassa in mezzo alla strada e le macchine la schivano...spero seriamente che non sia morta.
Il terzo e ultimo oggetto che tengo a commentare, per concludere, consiste nel arabescato inginocchiatoio da pompini che ho trovato nella mia stanza d albergo a 4 stelle (stanotte volevo dormire bene...), giusto in fianco alla bottiglia dell acqua minerale gassata con sopra un biglietto/ avviso che recita "per ogni persona extra che si porta in stanza sono 500 thai-soldi in piu. grazie".

salutoni

Oggi ho avuto a che fare con il servizio di prenotazioni dell'Azienda Sanitaria di Venezia

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gSUrtIcuAhs&feature=PlayList&p=7FA854F069300711&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=7

A Day In The Life

The front door opens while I’m in the can, taking a dump.

As you can imagine, I’m really focused, so I don’t mind the familiar sound of the old lock: four persons have the keys to the apartment and none of them right now have any business with me and even if they did...well, they’ll have to wait.

Anyway, I’m there and from the distance I can hear a voice I didn’t expect talking to the old man, my grandfather.

“Hey Dad! How are you doing?”

My uncle, the prodigal son, after -..i dunno...2 months?...- is back!

The 200 meters flat that separate his house from ours must have been very perilous lately...

Grampa is overwhelmed with joy, obviously.

I wait, crouching in the shadows (let’s put it that way...), listening, waiting for the reason why “the decider” has honored us with his presence.

“So how are kids and wife?” asks the old man.

“Good good, they might come to Venice for your b-day, so we can do it all together and” -i’m waiting for him to say “be done with it” but he doesn’t and, instead, he says “be all together”...not without a hint of embarassment for the poor choice of words.

He doesn’t sit.

I can “sense” him rummaging through the shelves where he keeps all his stuff, his scores and records.

Meanwhile grampa is firing questions at him, like he always does in this rare occasions: “you never know when i’m gonna see him again”.

I’m still in the middle of my task.

All the questions are half ignored and for the other half the answers are articulated from above the shoulder.

In my mind i’m thinking “he doesn’t have his viola, otherwise I would have heard him slamming the case against all the corners in the narrow entrance...so it means he’s not in a hurry, which leads to the conclusion that he came here on purpose and not just stopping by on his way to work...he’s here for a chat with his dad!”.

Immediatly I decide to wrap it up for a chance to have a chat with him, after all I haven’t seen him in a while aswell and I’d like to...do what?

“Let him know how much nothing you are currently doing with your life right now?”...not a very happy thought...

As if he could feel my head going back and forth with indecision, he says:

“Where’s Tommy, by the way?”

“Dunno...must be gone somewhere...haven’t seen him in a while”

Bless my grandad and his sclerosis.

At this point I decide to do my entrance on stage: who cares if he thinks I’m a slacker?

Most of the people I know, including my family, think i’m a slacker...I got quite used to it.

So I step out the bathroom with all the dignity I can muster...

And then I spot him, my uncle, going for the door, already on his way out of his obligations as a beloved son.

Already saturated with emotions he doesn’t have time for, apparently.

So I decide to call him.

“Hey! You leaving already?! Haven’t seen you in ages! How are you?”

“I’m good, everyone’s fine but i’m dead late for work...so i’m sorry but I gotta bail...”

“Where’s your viola?”

“Pardon?”

“Your viola. Or you switched to some other instrument lately?...”

These are the time I would love to know how to do the eyebrow thingy...but I can’t so it’s just a nosy question.

But it still shifted the balance of power: he’s gotta find a good reason now.

And he can’t.

He just stands there, with a weird smile, aching to get going.

I shake his hand and let his day go on normally, as if today we never met.

I'm tired of getting mad for other people flaws. Either that or full bold insanity by the age of 30.

When I go back in I see grampa on the phone, talking to my mother:

“Guess who just came to visit!? Your brother was here! Yes...he says hi...we had a good talk, now he’s gone to work...yes they are all good...they gonna come and visit for my b-day, isn’t that fantastic?”

They talk for ten minutes more or less...roughly three times more than the amount of time spent by my uncle on his “visit”.

That doesn’t fucking add up one bit.

He was litterally faster than my poop.

QUESITO

Se si potesse cancellare dall'esistenza un singolo elemento della nostra vita, uno solo che può essere qualsiasi cosa (una persona, un'idea, un oggetto, un concetto, eccetera), quale sarebbe?

Ammesso che fossimo in grado di comprendere a fondo le diramazioni di una simile azione, potrebbe esistere un singolo elemento che, se cancellato contemporaneamente da tutte le persone in vita in un preciso momento, sarebbe in grado di rendere il mondo un luogo perfetto, armonico?

Non intendo un'armonia temporanea, intendo la pace perenne.

Quello che voglio dire è che non sono sicuro che eliminare il concetto di guerra sarebbe sufficiente per rendere il mondo un posto perfetto, sarebbe solo come togliere un fucile ad un soldato addestrato ad uccidere in 70 modi diversi: mollato il fucile tira fuori un coltello di 30 cm e ti sbudella uguale...e forse con più gusto...

Che cosa c'è quindi alla base?

Che cos'è l'elemento che c'ha fatto allontanare dall'equilibrio del mondo animale e c'ha fatto approdare alla caotica realtà de "l'homo che ci sa doppiamente"?

Secondo me la consapevolezza che l'unione fa la forza, sia nel bene ma soprattutto nel male.

Il desiderio tipico dell'uomo di possedere ciò che non gli appartiene non sarebbe così distruttivo senza il concetto di "se non posso prendermelo da solo, lo posso prendere con un esercito alle spalle".

L'istinto ci spinge ad aiutare la persona che sta per essere schiacciata dal masso che sta spingendo su per la collina, non ci spinge ad aiutare chi sta cercando di farlo rotolare giù per togliere di mezzo chi cerca di arrivare al suo stesso obiettivo.

Nel secondo caso entra in gioco la parte razionale della mente, che calcola i pro e i contro e decide che con un alleato ci si può permettere di avere nemici con la sicurezza di vincere.

Odio le "gang", se non si fosse capito...

Questa è la mia opinione, mi piacerebbe sentire le vostre.

LA SOLITA TEMPISTICA, PROPRIO OGGI CHE VOLEVO SCRIVERE UN MANIFESTO SOVVERSIVO

Oscuramento internet - E' passato l'emendamento D'Alia

LEGGETE E FATE GIRARE, E' IMPORTANTE PER TUTTI

L’attacco finale alla democrazia è iniziato! Berlusconi e i suoi sferrano il colpo definitivo

alla libertà della rete internet per metterla sotto controllo.

Ieri nel voto finale al Senato che ha approvato il cosiddetto pacchetto sicurezza (disegno

di legge 733), tra gli altri provvedimenti scellerati come l’obbligo di denuncia per i medici

dei pazienti che sono immigrati clandestini e la schedatura dei senta tetto, con un

emendamento del senatore Gianpiero D’Alia (UDC), è stato introdotto l‘articolo 50-bis,

“Repressione di attività di apologia o istigazione a delinquere compiuta a mezzo internet“. Il

testo la prossima settimana approderà alla Camera. E nel testo approdato alla Camera

l’articolo è diventato il nr. 60. Anche se il senatore Gianpiero D’Alia (UDC) non fa parte

della maggioranza al Governo, questo la dice lunga sulla trasversalità del disegno liberticida

della “Casta” che non vuole scollarsi dal potere.

In pratica se un qualunque cittadino che magari scrive un blog dovesse invitare a

disobbedire a una legge che ritiene ingiusta, i provider dovranno bloccarlo. Questo

provvedimento può obbligare i provider a oscurare un sito ovunque si trovi, anche se

all’estero. Il Ministro dell’interno, in seguito a comunicazione dell’autorità giudiziaria, può

disporre con proprio decreto l’interruzione della attività del blogger, ordinando ai fornitori

di connettività alla rete internet di utilizzare gli appositi strumenti di filtraggio necessari

a tal fine. L’attività di filtraggio imposta dovrebbe avvenire entro il termine di 24 ore. La

violazione di tale obbligo comporta una sanzione amministrativa pecuniaria da euro 50.000 a

euro 250.000 per i provider e il carcere per i blogger da 1 a 5 anni per l’istigazione a

delinquere e per l’ apologia di reato, da 6 mesi a 5 anni per l’istigazione alla disobbedienza

delle leggi di ordine pubblico o all’odio fra le classi sociali. Immaginate come potrebbero

essere ripuliti i motori di ricerca da tutti i link scomodi per la Casta con questa legge? Si

stanno dotando delle armi per bloccare in Italia Facebook, Youtube, il blog di Beppe Grillo e

tutta l’informazione libera che viaggia in rete e che nel nostro Paese è ormai l’unica fonte

informativa non censurata. Vi ricordo che il nostro è l’unico Paese al mondo, dove una media

company, Mediaset, ha chiesto 500 milioni di risarcimento a YouTube. Vi rendete conto?

Quindi il Governo interviene per l’ennesima volta, in una materia che vede un’impresa del

presidente del Consiglio in conflitto giudiziario e d’interessi. Dopo la proposta di legge

Cassinelli e l’istituzione di una commissione contro la pirateria digitale e multimediale che

tra poco meno di 60 giorni dovrà presentare al Parlamento un testo di legge su questa

materia, questo emendamento al “pacchetto sicurezza” di fatto rende esplicito il progetto

del Governo di “normalizzare” il fenomeno che intorno ad internet sta facendo crescere un

sistema di relazioni e informazioni sempre più capillari che non si riesce a dominare.

Obama ha vinto le elezioni grazie ad internet? Chi non può farlo pensa bene di censurarlo e

di far diventare l’Italia come la Cina e la Birmania.

Oggi gli unici media che hanno fatto rimbalzare questa notizia sono stati Beppe Grillo dalle

colonne del suo blog e la rivista specializzata Punto Informatico.

Fate girare questa notizia il più possibile. E’ ora di svegliare le coscienze addormentate

degli italiani. E’ in gioco davvero la democrazia!!

There’s another day outside my window and, I must tell, it looks horrible from here: when you have too much fun at night the morning can’t be too bright...or something like that...right?

Anyway, even the Sun can’t make it up for the infamous “one too many” so I turned to music, to soothe my brain.

In the long run they say music therapy can work miracles: well, try to put something on to ease the hammering in your skull and, beacause you are too dumb to admit it, the shuffle goes straight to Rammstein, like your pc has some sort of hidden agenda against you “you left me on for a week you bastard! take this you hangover sonofawhore!”

And bang! Your headache multiplies!

Just one intro of a song can turn your day around.

Mine was turned into shit. Not that I don’t like Rammstein, it just wasn’t the right time...

I’m not here to talk about that, though.

I’m here because this morning I’ve witnessed something that stuck with me, even if I was still in that fase of the sleeping process when everything mixes up, dream and reality, and you can’t tell them apart so either you discard them or you obsess over it for a day.

Long story short, anyway: somebody was trying to play a prank on me while I was asleep (cowards), a prank so bold that involved reaching me through my window from the outside.

Some seriously elaborate prank.

The thing that made me stay still though, instead of rushing to the window and probably stumble over on my way there, missing my chance to yell “I’ve seen you! I know you! getouttahere!”, was that the two of them were not arguing over whether to do it or not, they were deciding WHAT to do.

What the fuck does that mean?

They were just passing by and suddenly one of them alted and said “hey! I gotta a fever! and the only prescription is to do a prank to the one sleeping behind this window!” and the other one went “all right!....what do we do?” ?

I’ve done some stupid prank in my life, mostly harmless, some not so much BUT I always had in mind what to do before setting of to actually do it: usually I just did what I was planning to do to the first person nearby.

That’s how it works, right?

You hang a bucket full of something, maybe not acid, over the door and wait for the FIRST one to enter: the thrill is also in the possibility that the person who’s going to walk through that door is going to walk all over your sorry ass afterwards.

Anyway, I was lying there in bed, hearing these two deuches going “hey, I got it, we throw shit in and run!” - “Nah...too obvious, I want something better!” - “Yeah....you are right! Something really really nasty!”.

I know I already said it but, again: what the fuck? “Something really really nasty”??

Come on! For real??

I started wondering then: why are these guys so angry with me they reckon throwing dog shit in my bedroom is not nasty enough??

Do I actually have enemies? Like in tv series and movies? What did I do to deserve those kind of idiots for enemies?

Some dictator, maybe that little prick of Mussolini, said “many enemies, much honor”, or something like that: well, I don’t know you guys but, if it helps from having people throwing shit inside my house, I would gladly choose to be friends with everybody, even deuchebags, BUT I would still go out there and make ‘em eat that shit (in a friendly fashion) if they decide to do it anyway.

Or maybe at night it’s just wise to keep my dear window closed, to keep the two worlds separate.

When dream and reality collide weird shit can happen, especially in your head, but that's normal...unless you push your luck and you leave your ass exposed for some cretins to mess around with you when you can do jack about it...

SAY NO TO CRETINS! CLOSE YOUR WINDOWS WHEN YOU SLEEP!

I guess that's it for today, i'm too miserable right now to think straight so I'll see you some other time from my window.

Long Live the Solar Federation (until we are all eaten by Andromeda, that is...).

welcome to the window on the ground floor

Good morning everybody, I'm the inhabitant of the ground floor window in the Most Improbable City in the World: every morning I can hear the news from people going to work; during lunch time I can enjoy debates about how the world is going crazy (and of course how to profit from it, but shush please....it's a secret!) and every evening I hear the tasty tales of nasty bosses and the broken hopes of witty employees and naughty co-workers.

The seasonal mutation of the landscape outside my beloved window is dictated by the humanity that fills it every day and as this summer loosen its heat-grip on the land I can have my entartainment back.

Watching unseen and listening unheard: what a perv!

Mind your own business!

Right?

Wrong.

Overhearing is not a crime, shouting on the street is a sign of poor education...or drunkness.

In my city we have plenty of both: in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, by night, employed, unemployed, shaven, dirty, goodlooking and ugly.

Never seen a leprechaun but I've seen many many trolls.

I haven't heard all their stories but I've heard enough of them to tell you this: right now is more about work and making money than ever before.

Time is money; talk is money; silence is money; weather is money; poverty is money; sickness is A LOT of money; MONEY IS MONEY!

Being an unemployed blogger I have loads of time to spend and the second thing I like the most, after looking out of my window, is to know what other countries think of my country, so I read some newspapers from around the world and guess what did I find today on "The New York Times" online?

That's right: cancer and free clinics, one article after the other, showing in few lines how messed up is the system we live in.

One says, roughly, that a (pardon my french) shit-load of money is poured into drugs research that are, basically, not as much effective as their price should suggest; the other says that a clinic in Milwaukee, that ACTUALLY helps people's lives, is going to be left to....well...die, just because in Washington (and that's just A capital of A nation, do not forget) nobody really cares and probably because nobody of those in charge have some relative in treatment in that abovementioned free clinic.

Now, I may have the facts all wrong, I'm not saying I'm speaking the absolute truth but there is one detail I really don't get, a relation between federal regulated (I'm talking in international terms, with "federal" I mean also "national", for those who don't live in a federal state) medical care and prescription drugs: one is provided by the national health care, and more often than not is quite expensive, the others are produced by private companies and, more often than not, their selling prices do not match AT ALL the results.

Are the pharmaceutical enterprises intentioned to stretch a lot more the concept "you can't put a price on hope"?

Because to me it seems they are riding that horse hard and quite undisturbed by those who close free clinics for insolvency.

Why the Hell the health-care system in almost every nation in the world is always on the brinck of collapse while those who produce the very drugs that are distributed in and by the medical network are bathing in money like Scrooge McDuck?

Aren't they both essential parts of the very same indispensable machine?

To me it doesn't make any sense at all but, then again, I am an unemployed blogger who just stares out of his window.

Anyway, I hope to hear something less gloomy from my window tomorrow.

Goodbye fellows