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.