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Il Premier più bersagliato degli ultimi 150 anni

That is, a study on hate.

A mentally ill person throws a brick on the teeth of a man . Such news is likely to remain limited to purely local, with unanimous expressions of solidarity with the victim and some mild debate about madness and the difficulty of managing people with severe mental illness, often left alone with their families.

A mentally ill person throws a brick on the teeth of a man rich, famous and very controversial, which has made many enemies over the years . In this case the news would certainly have a much greater spread in proportion to the fame of VIP involved. His friends would be outraged and would seek to make the guilty pay dearly and who should be cared for. His enemies are divided between fair trade (because the violence is never an acceptable choice ethically) and carrion ("oh finally someone got there"). Here's an example

vippissimo: Fabrizio Corona you this?


omnipresent, a lover of the saying "talk to me for better or worse, just that you continue to talk about myself, always surrounded by beautiful women, self-confident to the point of encroaching into attitude, rude, verbally and sometimes even physically violent, prosecuted (and convicted) extortion, fraudulent bankruptcy and criminal association and other amenities? Well, all you can say except that the Corona is a type that goes unnoticed or let other people indifferent.
People like him have such an ego, such a cult of personality , which leads them to spill over from all limits "conventional", and therefore also draws extreme reactions: you love them or hate them, they are not idolatrous or they can suffer. This extremism is not accidental: The Crown will also have a temper, but he uses it with skill to cultivate an image of himself that satisfies him. Being the most famous and most controversial celebrity of the moment is his desire and his choice. Se ciò comporta avere un nutrito gruppo di detrattori a controbilanciare (ed esaltare) i suoi ammiratori, a lui va benissimo.
" Molti nemici molto onore ": parola di un altro famoso superuomo italiano.

Se una persona come lui ricevesse una mattonata sui denti da un folle, mia nonna direbbe semplicemente "mi dispiace per lui, la violenza è sempre sbagliata, ma chi semina vento raccoglie tempesta". Ossia: non condivido la mattonata, anzi la condanno, ma secondo me non è un caso che la mattonata se la sia presa proprio lui. Non credo che nessuno considerebbe mia nonna una feroce fomentatrice d'odio, una mandante morale della violenza. Le eventuali carogne che si facessero una risata soddisfatta alla notizia would be considered bad and cynical, but never, ever be accused of being guilty of aggression.

But now say a sentence like that could cost you dear, dear! Because it just so happens that yesterday a mentally ill person has actually pulled a blunt object on the teeth of a man rich, famous and very controversial, which is called Silvio Berlusconi and is our Prime Minister. pictures of his bloodied face had not yet been fully deployed, which was already the controversy flared up!
In a normal society, the debate (except for some inevitable slide) is essentially limited to two points: 1 - why a mentally unstable, under the care of 20 years, has not been recognized as potentially dangerous and 2 - because, although it was clearly altered , managed to approach the Premier potergli so much to throw directly on the face of a blunt object? For the second time?

(okay, a cynical bastard like me also note the incredible retaliation of the head of this government, which has strengthened controls against illegal immigrants and set up patrols to protect citizens against violence, struck by the representation of the Cathedral Milan shot by an Italian speech to his audience ...)

Clearly there is a problem of national security and private molto molto grave! Negli USA, ogni aggressione ad un esponente politico (e ce ne sono state) hanno sollevato questo problema. Idem in tutti gli altri paesi del mondo!

Invece in Italia, la polemica verte sul clima d'odio che, secondo i partiti al Governo, sarebbe stato generato ed alimentato dall'opposizione. Ed io ieri sera ho dovuto passare due ore a difendermi, perchè, in qualità di antiberlusconiana convinta, sarei parimenti responsabile di quanto accaduto in quanto il mio essere contro Berlusconi (come persona e come politico) alimenterebbe questo clima d'odio che ha armato la mano dell'aggressore.

MA STIAMO SCHERZANDO?

No. Il morigerato Ignazio La Russa, colui che dava del pedofilo and that a protester his left to punch another , she said: " when doing demonstrations for a party but not against one person and hate-this is the result. This is the result of the politics of hate. " Maroni is ready to launch a series of measures to obscure sites that glorify violence and hatred , but mind you, only those against Berlusconi. Those who advocate the death penalty of two cruel masters, the ones no, that's not hatred. Too bad, could be an opportunity for reflection on violence, rather than be just another maneuver on a personal basis!

Apart from the fact that, now that Berlusconi has been physically attacked, it seems that no one can express more dissatisfaction with himself and to his politics ... But what does the opposition and those who, like me, who professes antiberlusconiano with the attack of a madman? Obviously, I'm sorry it was hit, but I remain deeply antiberlusconiana and my opinion to him as a person and as a policy, does not change!

If anyone has turned into a political uproar unworthy to blows and insults to all opponents at all levels ( BALLS , you remember it?), Machismo, the cult of personality, racism and sessisimo , dumb jokes and verbal violence, that's Silvio Berlusconi. He managed to look like a superman, constantly in the spotlight and always over the top, to love or hate no half measures. And most has surrounded himself with people who use the same relentless verbal abuse continues. If

now comes a Madonite teeth for more during a rally in which they let go and newly to the usual verbal excesses against the protesters, my grandmother would say that if you went looking. But my grandmother would wrong, because everyone seems to forget that "the bomber" is not a political activist, a communist jerk, a protester violates anti-b-day, an angry unemployed, an immigrant irregular and not an evil rom ... No, this is a mentally unstable person, who has targeted the most VIP of the moment. He could very well be John Lennon instead of Berlusca. The only difference is, while Lennon would continue to like the Berlusca (unless you change its policies and attitude) will continue to dislike, and I have every right to say it and think no one dares to even insinuate that this makes me a co-responsible what has happened.

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COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Dear Mr. Travaglio, I swear I did not copy its arguments , I had already used them both last night that this morning, I have witnesses ... Of course she tells her very best ... But there is a certain harmony ... how about to hire me as a collaborator? :)

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Wounded Knee (people are fragile things, you should know by now)


The Editors are right: people are fragile, we should know and be careful of what we submit that the. I always try to keep that in mind, but unfortunately sometimes I forget. Especially when it concerns myself, let's say I have a tendency to overestimate my strength!

This time, deaf to the entreaties of my meniscus, I dragged my old Silent and tired limbs in a three-day fire in Rome, winning the Editors of the concert, a tour of the capital and the manifestation of B Day No In theory it should not be nothing too athletic: we had booked a B & B close to Theatre concert, which was located on the map Urbe ass, and then move increasingly using public transport. But we did not come to terms with the landlord, in the literal sense!
As you arrive by train, we expect to solertissimo the hotel, that in a Aho and a pat on the back of the taxi drivers in a row there kept us very happy to announce posto, allo stesso prezzo stracciato, in un suo nuovissimo hotel proprio in centro. L'albergo è effettivamente centralissimo, la camera a dir poco lussuosa, il personale gentilissimo... solo che quando chiediamo indicazioni su come raggiungere il teatro, suscitiamo reazioni preoccupate: "ah regà, q.lla zona llà nun è pproprio bbella 'a notte, sete sicuri che c'avete pproprio d'annà?" Si, siamo sicuri. "Vabbè, è fascile: prennete er tram n.14, scennete ar capolinea d'a prenestina, annate su dritti pe viale tojatti e poi traversate. Ma me raccomanno, regà, non date confidenza, non state a sentì a nessuno!"


Ok, prendiamo il cestino da portare alla nonna, pull on the red cap and we start jumping. Scennemo ar terminus, Annam on straight avenue, not Damo confidence wolf (anfame!), and after a good Sgambati in the middle of a tundra species (which littered mollichine for the trip), we finally arrive at the theater. We jumped in, and our boldness is rewarded by an enjoyable concert with performances by groups already shoulder Wintersleep and Maccabees, which give two very different but compelling interpretations of alternative rock (the first I liked most from the echoes of indie rock, the latter would not disfigured at the Summer Jamboree).

On stage, decorated with strange Pupino (Gormiti lovers too? mah...), arrivano poi Tom Smith & Co. Un'ora e mezza di musica e divertimento, fra vecchi successi e nuovi pezzi più elettronici che, dal vivo, rendono decisamente meglio: in this light and on this evening, an end has a start, you don't know love, bones, bullets, the boxer, the big exit, escape the nest, eat raw meet=blood drool, smokers outside the hospital doors, like treasure, when anger shows, the racing rats, you are fading, bricks and mortar, walk the fleet road; e come bis munich, papillon, fingers in the factories. Ho cercato di stare buonina, ma quando hanno attaccato la mia preferita non sono riuscita a trattenermi ed ho iniziato a saltare come the rest of the audience, which is heated gradually, but then he has not stopped since. Result: large-scale production of endorphins, but spitefully patella kneecap out of place ...

Following mollichine under a nagging drizzle we go back (more or less limping) at the bus stop and discover with horror that no longer pass trams, buses are all directed to the warehouse, and that night there is no trace. We look a bit ', then we must accept the sad reality and started to walk toward the center. 7 km of oaths avoided thanks to the great heart of the Romans and my face cu .. riosona: we meet a fact which is petrol and I wonder if you can give us a shamelessly tear in the center. Unfortunately, it is practically got home, he says, and confirms, however, that the direction is right. Small consolation, we thank him and leave again. But we feel sorry for him, because after we hear a car that combines a few meters: it is he who is moved to pity, it brings us to the Termini station. Too bad not to know his name, but thanks anyway again, dear motorist blonde you picked up four chilled creatures, telling us that you would have married Saturday and then so you would not have stayed, even one thousand one thousand GRAZIEEE!

The next day, after the disorientation to awaken in a room of stucco and studded with red brocade curtains, we leave to visit Rome Capoccia. Rains, try to do the indifferent with our raincoats, but eventually give in to the weather and we Refugees from friends emigrants home for an afternoon dedicated to upgrading the native village gossip. Back at the hotel in an atmosphere of Blade Runner, including rain, illuminated windows for Christmas with the homeless huddled under a few passers-by shivering at the mercy of crazy traffic, and an impressive array of police in riot gear have to be vigilant empty squares. .. Rome, the nun is stupid tonight!

Saturday but the gods of civil protest are definitely on our side, a sign that the weather is a lump of subversive left. It approfittiamo per fare un giro veloce ad ammirare Fori e Colosseo baciati dal sole e fingerci tranquilli vacanzieri. Tuttavia qualcosa ci tradisce (non so se il capello lungo da dissidente di Silent oppure la mia mise viola da capo a piedi), tanto che veniamo accostati da due impavidi rappresentanti dell'ordine che ci chiedono i documenti, li osservano, ci intimano di aspettare e spariscono per un quarto d'ora buono! Dopo essere stati doverosamente schedati, ci rechiamo in Piazza della Repubblica, dove il popolo viola inizia a radunarsi. Ci raggiunge il più grande blobber da manifestazione che la blogosfera ricordi, armato di macchina fotografica e spirito critico, e ci avviamo.

Apart from the well organized nuclei of the few parties that have officially joined the event, there is everything from kids to old people, men women children, with posters of all types (most home-made undeniable wit) and all shades of purple. The atmosphere is festive but combative, there is music and dancing but also sound invective against our Prime Minister and the whole Italian political class in general. I look around and see people swarming from all sides, and already sogghignamo at the thought of the ridiculous numbers that give the police: the fact that, according to them there were only 90,000 , but I was there and on arrival at Piazza San Giovanni we can not even to enter, dobbiamo raggiungerla dalla strada laterale ma anche così avvicinarsi al palco è impossibile.

Salutiamo il blobber e ripartiamo con un dubbio ed una speranza. Il dubbio riguarda la reale incisività della manifestazione: ok eravamo una marea, ma nulla comunque in confronto alla maggioranza silenziosa degli italiani, quella che crede a tutto quello che passa la TV e che coltiva un il proprio orticello ostentando ermetico menefreghismo agli ideali ed ai problemi del paese (salvo non esserne direttamente toccati, nel qual caso trovano facilmente un capro espiatorio negli immigrati, nei comunisti, nel nemico pubblico di turno additato dai mass media). Loro non manifestano, non partecipano, non domandano: sanno benissimo che il re è nudo (And goes to whores with public money) but they do not care (even envy him) until the ration provides the right amount of promise amazing, well-being micragnoso and reassuring stability. To them we will always be the protesters girotondini pathetic, and as long as they vote at the polls will be compact as we continue to disintegrate in a constellation of minor stars: just to say, the B Day No abbreviations were as Marxist-Leninist Party of Italian, Collectives Communists, the Brigades of Resistance ... were already old in 1946, someone update them please!

Hope we respect your pathetic girotondini: maybe this event so unusual, and by people born from the Net common in stark contrast to the moldy opposition parties (all so taken by exchanges of favors and power struggles by not being able to see how real people are now totally alienated from their politics) will serve to shake them from their haughty complacency, and force them to think that the upcoming votes, the party could win the purple card. My hope (weak, naive, idealistic as you want) is that the purple people has given a jolt, not so much to Berlusca (capirai. ..) when our mummified opposition "" Queen of the world "- ie the force public opinion as it is defined in a beautiful book of the French sociologist Jacques Julliard (Princeton) - went away with the scene, has closed to parties, has made her run after those. And if you lag behind those of the aged on their own feet and limped twentieth century, the "queen" has run move with great strength and agility thanks to its super-turbo called web .


so be careful, you mummies you can not even pretend to do more in opposition to oust Berlusconi might fail, but you will ... The electorate of the left is fragile, you should know: Think carefully about what you're doing go look at the e. .. consequences !

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Shantosissimo Matrimonio Indu

Or how to spend a weekend festive and decidedly alternative among enlightened divine incarnations, yoga meditation teachers, families, fair trade, scholars philosophy, hippies of all nations, mantra singers, instrument players eastern markets of incense, floral wreaths and bouquet of spices without having to go to India. Yes, because I mean for a Hindu wedding celebration of love with Hindu ritual (clarification needed for my local readers, who may misunderstand and tease saying "eccerto, ciambotta, if a marriage is always in du '"). Archived

the worst joke of the century, step to relate this particular event. We leave Sunday morning, a delegation of three women and one man, henceforth known as the stoic, because the railroad strike, we had to put up 400 km closed in a car and progestogens saturated with emotion talk! If there is proof of this friendship ...
After hours and hours of merciless spetteguless, rain, asphalt, stopping plin plin, gray Po valley and blocked highways full of Milanese neurasthenic, we arrive at the hotel. We park through a hole that makes us understand the meaning the word "optimism" and deposited their meager luggage in two rooms that embody the style "scalcagned recicling" (but then we Marches, our motto is "if they're clean), so we sling to the place of the meeting.


In arena, where many people are already waiting patiently in line to receive a pass to attend the ceremonies, the couple immediately intercept, to work as volunteers for the nonprofit organization that organizes the event. Before we explain in detail how to play things, examine whether we really understood (we have), check whether we are dressed properly (we are), encourage us to enjoy the evening and dentro di loro sperano che non gli faremo fare brutte figure: saranno dei genitori meravigliosi!

Prima di metterci in fila per il pass (tanto dobbiamo prendere i numeri finali perchè i matrimoni si fanno per ultimi), ci portano a mangiare alla mensa interna insieme agli altri invitati, dove pizza e pasta al forno si accompagnano al riso al curry e insalata di tofu in un tripudio di sapori e colori rigidamente vegetariani. Alcuni degli ospiti sono titubanti (tra paura dell'H1N1 e diffidenza dei sapori insoliti): io mi sacrifico e lascio a loro il monopolio della pasta al forno per lanciarmi nell'eroica impresa di spazzolare tutto quello che abbia un vago aspetto o sentore esotico. L'assenza di reazione della mia colite mi convince di aver fatto the right choice.

bodies refreshed, it's time to think of the spirit, we receive the pass and enter the room where he, very kindly, we are asked to take off our shoes and sit in silence. Everyone was prepared for the arrival of "holy ", the Hindu spiritual leader considered by some teacher of life and meditation, a missionary in the service of others abandoned (whether they are afflicted by poverty, economic or spiritual), but for more faithful she is the embodiment of pure and perfect deity (this, however, in every living being, according to their beliefs). From what I read before leaving, are already very well prepared to meet this persona: una che parla di tolleranza ed uguaglianza, che invita le persone a farsi tramite dell'amore e della compassione iniziando lei per prima con un caldo abbraccio, che apre ospedali, difende le donne e si fa portavoce di istanze ecologiche non può che starmi simpatica, indipendentemente dal mio cinismo religioso.

Il cerimoniale inizia con i riti di purificazione, a cui segue una breve meditazione e poi il discorso della santa, tutto incentrato sull'amore per gli altri e la consapevolezza di sè, che mi fa pensare come tutte le guide spirituali parlino la stessa lingua, indipendentemente dal contesto storico/culturale in cui si trovano a vivere, ma mi fa anche sorridere per le sue parabole prese dal mondo moderno (senza ricerca mistica siamo come computer senza password, cellulari senza campo). Durante la meditazione, mentre tutti intorno a me cantano OM ad occhi chiusi, io tengo i miei ben aperti e guardo: vedo gente che piange ed altri con un sorriso incredibilmente sereno, signori attempati in tenuta da nonni compiere gli stessi gesti rituali del rasta trasandato, del giovane asceta in tunica bianca e della coppia fighetta, oltre a quattro goffi corinaldesi vagamente spaesati.

Dopo il discorso, inizia la parte centrale dell'evento: l'abbraccio. Quelli che hanno ricevuto il pass si mettono in fila e, tra canti, mantra e meditazioni, vengono tutti abbracciati dalla holy person, practically invisible on stage, surrounded by aides and loyal. From ten in the evening until seven in the morning, an uninterrupted river of people lined up for a hug. While the numbers run, we will take the opportunity to review the procedure room with the couple and, around midnight, sneak to the hotel for a few hours sleep. Holy no, it makes all the sleepless night, but we do not feel guilty: after all she is the incarnation of God, we just four unbelievers who do not make it longer keep my eyes open. Time to rest the weary little head on the pillow, soft and white as a cloud, and it's already dawn! The metro is still closed (but quan'è soon?) arrive breathless at the palace, where we find that our numbers have already been exceeded, but no one is telling (everything here is love and tolerance) and there we queued to take the embrace of the Divine Mother.

When I reach the stage, are prepared by the assistants that make me kneel, I take off my glasses, I purify touching the face and neck with a white handkerchief ... I fear the same as for the person before me and that before that and who knows how many others, and a vague little voice whispers in my mind like a mantra "H1N1", but the feeling is still very soothing (and then me to go trance just me touching your hair and do not understand anything). Arriving in front of the holy I look up to my mischievous smile from "not here to be authentic but sincerely appreciate what you do" and finally I see an Indian lady in his sixties, with graying hair but without a wrinkle, despite the high natural fiber hat silver, plump, with a wonderful smile and a look so sweet. A nanosecond is another hard-working assistant puts me in the right arm around the saint's life (er, no wait, all st'intimità, I do not ... maybe it's not the AC-) and I literally sank his face in necklaces flowers that adorn the holy, who hugs me tight! Not a hint, a formality, no, this woman hugs you really tight around the neck and breast! And murmurs of the sentences (I really can not, ah if only I was a bit 'more careful when there was a course of Sanskrit philology as the committee!) With a beautiful vibrant voice that seems to rock you for a few moment, then I leave by hand in a candy ... Lemon! Really beginning to think that she'll read inside ...

get off the stage with an incredulous smile ... I do not know what they have tried others, I do not know what we've done moved my friends. I had the feeling of having embraced my mother and my grandmother put together very spiritual, very tender. The row comes to an end: our friends come along with five other couples, beautiful in their colorful saris, and agitated as all married couples of any denomination. When their turn comes, we return to the stage and the saint blesses them while they perform a short ritual, symbolic and intense ( you can see one here). The event ends with the bride and groom greeted by the entire assembly then paraded to the stage while the holy sprinkled with flower petals. One thing that continues to impress me (in addition to loving forces of the increasingly diligent assistants) is the scent: 10/15 thousand people (scalze!), many of whom have spent all night there, and anyway there is always a good smell . Even in the most pressing interest, as the final stage.

Holy took leave flowers and songs, la gente inizia a defluire (sono le 9 di lunedì mattina, molti si sbrigano per andare al lavoro) e sotto il palco restano solo i sempre più alacri assistenti (se li avesse visti Brunetta sarebbe schiattato di invidia) e un gruppo eterogeneo di fricchettoni che continuano imperterriti a cantare e ballare in estasi... una specie di woodstock in salsa al curry, insomma. Noi recuperiamo le scarpe e ci rechiamo in mensa dove gli sposi hanno preparato un piccolo buffet, sempre vegetariano, semplice ma buono. Forte della positiva esperienza della sera prima, mi accingo ad addentare un tramezzino quando mi accorgo di uno strano fenomeno: lentamente si avvicina l'incarnazione del fricchettone per antonomasia (a piedi nudi, con dreadlocks, beard, a few tattoos, necklaces loose, torn jeans, faded shirt lisa with Indian symbols, etc. etc.), middle-aged, probably Anglo-Saxon, with a huge smile and clasped hands in a gesture of good wishes. He looks at us all with a benevolent gaze (in a bit empty in truth), and always with clasped hands raised a long, lean leg crossing over the bench and approaches the table, separating the hands just enough to grab a couple of sandwiches and a mug of tea, and always smiling blissfully goes to a table away to eat in quiet solitude, love and brotherhood ooze from every pore, and then repeat the same operation to another nuptial party, and so on ...

And after him, he began a trickle to sneak that leave us between the nervous and exhilarated. Some will infiltrate and then also call friends, but the maximum it reaches an Italian woman who first eats anything it can, then start with calm determination to prepare portions of the fine to be wrapped in napkins to take home for dinner, making the 'inventory, "oh how nice, I take even this small piece of cheese so I do not miss anything" ... At this point I burst with laughter but I try to contain myself because my friends have the look of the murderess champion who defends the territory from invaders. The Stoic Meanwhile, thanks to the training the day before, will test the skills of dialectical infiltrated by pointing out that their is a marriage and were not invited, and noting the answers best. But in the end because they complain, if spouses and freeloaders are united by the awareness that everything is love and sharing? Take another piece of pie, the brother with dreadlocks, but then let me eat, ok?

Eventually, all good or bad they are filled, and we can enjoy a little 'company of the newlyweds before returning home. We are happy, excited and tired (especially the stoic, the thought of what awaits him in the long return trip), but we are already planning to return to the next opportunity to better understand the spirituality and Indian culture, let us embrace a little '(as the affection is never enough), and maybe sneak a few refreshing radiant!