About Israel-Palestine peace
I perfectly remember, as now, when I was in Sinai, after a long journey in the desert.
«I’m too old to continue this neverending trip, but you, who may choose, look for a better country, Moses.»
Poor Moses! He was set with his Promised Land, full of rocks and sand, and lack of water. There had been at least somewhat oil!
Travels do-yourself
I perfectly remember as now when I was in Polska. There were so many peoples in the camping, ready to pass the Vistula.
«I’m too old to come with you, but take care with these travels do-yourself. Russia is biggest, Napoleon. Better a good agency.»
Poor Napolean! That winter was so cold.
Why I hate opera
Today at noon in Italian television there is the traditional New Year concert. In the past it was from Vien, with musics by Strauss family, but since some years it’s from La Fenice of Venice, obviously with Verdi’s musics. My wife likes very much this stuff, but for me it’s a great pain, even with stomach cramps, ugly affair during New Year lunch.
I perfectly remember why I hate opera. I was five years when my parents sent me to municipal colony, as we called that institution, the only way in those years for workers families to get children at mountain or sea, together, supervised by staff. In Italy those were the first years of television, and nobody would scroll people from magic box, even with a bulldozer.
That evening, I perfectly remember as now, after the meal in refectory we had on TV an opera, now I think it may be the Cavalleria rusticana, by Mascagni. There was a woman, on her knees, forwarding a little chapel on a side of country street. She was singing, singing and still singing.
I was tired, after a day playing in the big courtyard. I had a great sleep and she was singing, singing and still singing. I was sitting on a bench, with the big table on shoulders. I was envying the buddies on the other side, who could support the head to table, while mine was lolling. I asked the miss, as we named the girl who supervised us, to accompany me.
«You know the way, go to bed.» – she said and none had scrolled her from magic box.
I was five years, remember please. I had fear of the big courtyard, full of shadows in the night, after the day sun, and of long unknown corridors. But the woman was singing, singing, still singing, also there, forward the chapel. At last, not resisting, I dealt the threatening darkness, the mysterious places of big building, all bigger in my eyes of child. I took a door and was in bed.
Next morning, waking up, I saw another miss and other buddies.
Alright, since then, I’m almost in my sixties, I hate opera. Better Tokio Hotel.
The Free Trade
I perfectly remember, as now, when I was in Palestine, where I had known a man, eager to enter business at all costs.
«I’m too old to be your financial consultant, but at my advice you have asked too little, Jud. At least invest wisely your thirty dollars.»
Poor Judas! He tried to enter trade of rope and similar, a moment before it would fall disastrously.
I will speak of Free Trade and economic liberalism, a day or another.
Allies and friends
I perfectly remember, as now, when I was in Paris, France, with an enthusiastic revolutionary.
«I’m too old to support you in this chaos, but beware from allies and friends, Roby.»
Poor Robespierre! He didn’t.
Romano, same to you.
Dialogues
I perfectly remember, as now, when I was at Pesaro with a young man named Vitellozzo.
«I’m too old to accompany you to the party, Vitellozzo. But be careful with that bitch Lucrezia. She have so bad notoriety.»
Poor Vitellozzo! He didn’t trust to voices about his lover Lucrezia Borgia, great investigator of poisons.
Walter, be careful in your dialogue with Berlüsca, he neither is a beatiful woman. Better to keep away from him.
Putin’s election
I perfectly remember, as now, when I was at St. Petersburg foundation. Czar was afraid of retards.
«I’m too old to partecipate myself, Petr. But don’t fear, there will be always a czar in Russia»
Poor Petr the Great, as they called him after! He didn’t know that All Russians czar would not have been from his family!
Will survive democracy in Italy? Berlüsca parties
I’m telling about his political parties, obviously, Forza Italia, Partito del Popolo delle libertà, or what heaven he will call.
Last night I was awake, suffering from insomnia. In my case to suffer is a wrong word. With sun mind is selfgelding by taleban rules, this is right, that is wrong, this is useful, that not.
But night is irregular, the night is opened to wide wilderness; mind may go free whenever and wherever, since courage and heart hold. My best thoghts come me at night. I’m enjoying from insomnia.
Last night I was dandling my thoghts with an ancient song of Aqua, Barbie girl. How ancient? Let me think. Uhm, in Paris, France, perhaps. There was so nice people, indead. Yeah, it was there, I remember as now. Marie Antoinette, the queen, was so fond of Barbie girl. I remember well, I tell her:
«Netty, I’m too old to do your steady counsellor, but let me give you an advice. With all these new songs, you’ll lose your head.»
Poor Netty, she wasn’t bad. Once she asked me suddenly:
«I love girls. D’you think it’s wrong?»
«Why, Netty? Me too.»
Sweet remembrances! But let’s turn back.
All right, I was listening the refrain:
Come on Barbie, let’s go party,
ahahah yeah
Come on Barbie, let’s go party,
uhuh, uhuh yeah.
Sudden intuition, Berlüsca parties are Barbie parties, where life is plastic, it’s fantastic. There is a bunch of Barbies, rather seasoned, but a bunch. Big Jims are to be broken-winded.
