I decided to tell a story. Like all stories are observed beginning with a "Once upon a time ..."
There once was a fat child and naive, but so naive as to not know yet to be neither fat nor naive, because in addition to being a quite impressive thinness, juggles spigliatamente among her peers, wreaking havoc and killings in the hearts of doe-eyed. As a child, and not having yet had the mental disorders of adolescence, hormones, girls and everything else, you could not consider at all affected by some eating disorder, ate plenty, drank enough, it was poop regularly, but could not do increase the fat layer that some of his peers cradled so sweetly. Not that it mattered much, but the fat man hidden inside him pawing and shaking from the pain, shouting and cursing (and acciderboline ciribiricolccole) desiring one day to be able to win the freedom of that body, skin and bones. It was the eighties, the second half, when the world was still divided between good and bad and although we did not know clearly distinguish what were (the good and the bad ones I mean), TV screens are more convex dreams that never aired in the form of Japanese animation, with its depopulated the Commodore 64 and Amiga with that of the twenty-six, he has taught for addiction computer science and love for technology. The days ran long and endless, the weeks turn into months and then lasted blinks of an eye when we stopped to riosservarle. Autumn is finally dreamed forward to a snowy Christmas and throughout the remainder of those four weeks of summer were the only oratorio coveted goal, where the time to be bored with the one that was so narrowly accepted banknote with the face of Galileo dated by your mother in the morning, you could buy an ice cream or candy and twenty fags spend it all in, to find the missing figurines Volpi Poggi and no one had ever even seen from a distance with binoculars.
Meanwhile, the fat che è in ogni individuo, si anche in voi, si dimenava: “Perché mangi tutte quelle caramelle e merendine e non mi concedi la libertà?” ma il Bambino Grasso Che Non Sapeva Ancora Di Esserlo non lo ascoltava, anzi non lo sentiva nemmeno, talmente si crogiolava nel suo autocompiacimento dell’essere smilzo. Passò qualche anno che il Bambino Non Ancora Grasso trascorse tra alti e bassi, lunghi e stretti, spessi e sottili, senza mai ascoltare il ciccione che era in lui, non dandogli la minima chance, la minima aspettativa, la minima briciola di pasticcino.
Fu così che una sera, dopo l’ennesima iniezione di penicillina in una partita contro gli Mumps won at the last 2 to 1 with a kick at the end, the fat man took control: the guard was lowered, the Child Magro was exhausted for the disease or just thought for a moment how beautiful life from non-fat groped making plans to conquer the world. The Fat, with a skilled and agile maneuver unworthy of its nearly 100 pounds, Magro relegated the Child in its deepest subconscious, starting to gulp down tons of snacks Mulino Bianco, tons of Nutella, pounds and pounds of trash, losing interest for girls, sports, and almost all interpersonal relationships. The domain undisputed ruler of this fat was so early. I wish I could say Magro that the Child was somehow aware of his status of "not more", but in captivity, along with too much sugar eaten up, they send the brain into baby food, the pancreas to the creator or even the awareness of having the tits could move him from its torpor. In the early days followed the first few months as the programs followed the pounds overweight, over the years, the faded colors of life around him: all shades of red and yellow heat lost, the indigo blue were transformed soon ashen alteration of what had once been; also green and orange when they lost their meaning of existence, the Fat Boys were no more than the white and black. Ormai il numero dei menti somigliava sempre più alle pieghe di una fisarmonica; l’addome, ormai simile a quello dell’omino Michelin, cascava sopra dei pantaloni larghi abbastanza per farci entrare il proprio padre; la schiena si incurvava e le ginocchia faticavano a reggere cotanto peso adattandosi in pieghe malsane. A sua discolpa, Sua Grossezza il Lord dei Prosciutti non era del tutto stupido, anzi era ai livelli di intelligenza del suo prigioniero sottopeso; era curioso, imparava alla svelta e faceva galoppare la fantasia ad una velocità impressionante. Forse è per questo motivo che il suo dominio incontrastato durò così a lungo, è risaputo infatti che nessun sovrano mantiene il potere senza una buona dose di arguzia, intelligence, contempt of danger and a supply of semi infinite cov Mulino Bianco. His empire in fact pass unharmed through the revolutionary upheavals of puberty, the upheavals of early adolescence, keeping well away from the disappointment in love, girls, and sometimes even by his friends for the sole purpose of preserving power.
The years flew low between primary candied fruit, chocolate cream and the end of the First Republic, and those averages hover without quotes of any kind other than the election of '96 that you still pay for the mistakes , and in a remote desert ITIS between Como and Varese, flew over the period of Pindaric between a new Europe and the Genoa G8.
One evening, the wind changed. And it did not bring with it more or the fragrance of youth, nor the taste of high-calorie food, but only a new breeze of hidden knowledge and hidden and suppressed that reached the dark secret that the poor child was left locked Magro for more than ten years. The wind always brings with it a counsel, who is listening, it's a "put on your hat that makes a cool cat" or "put a foot in the October Revolution", it does not matter. The fact is that during that night, our hero escaped from the dungeons where for more than a decade was remained shut. It is an exciting story full of twists, a couple of flashbacks, the butler invariably guilty and a surprise ending involving a priest, a Swiss Canton viados and the Government, but this is not no place nor time for tell it. It was already evening when, taking advantage of the excessive attention of a guard for his noisy ass obese, that person who was the Child Magro sneaked into the throne room. Hidden behind the sumptuous curtains, past colorful tapestries and paintings of old gray-haired, the monarch could be seen bent under the weight of its chili and exhausted from too much food swallowed. The eyes were still lively and dreamy, but the look did not seem happy or hungry, just tired, and when crossed to the Magro who had been a child, with a smile Messer Porcello grassissima dissolved in a soap bubble, leaving behind nothing but a scent lard. And the skinny girl understood. He understood that the Stout had always been within him, which were nothing more than the double side of the coin, the same half of pandoro, the two butts of the same sausage and that neither could live without the other in a eternal alternation, in an eternal struggle between good and evil, between freedom and slavery of calories from sweets, including obesity and anorexia. still the thin man happy lives of its thinness, and never forget what it was twenty-five kilos ago, without having to forgive the baby fat in one day so far, took control of his life. Without forgive him for having made him regret the wasted years remorse or missed opportunities, the Child was the one who occasionally Magro, now allows the fat that is in him to have a good time for a few minutes with a little 'chocolate or a feast of bread and cheese, and is still looking for a woman who may be able to share with him the memories of a childhood spent on the baby fat.
"Was machst du von Beruf?" Is one of the first things I learned in Germany, along with "Wie geht's?" And "Deine Titten machen mich wahnsinnig." Well, what am I doing working here in Germany? Well if you can explain it to my mother, you are very good, I do not have it done. Not because she does not know what a photon or what is an FPGA, a nurse mica studied by scientists, but I think even my father, who comes from a technical education, has some difficulty explaining to his friends because his son, the tender age of 25 years, has given up home, family, work, the row of women who waited at the door (although my house even had the door) to go in a foreign land to seek his fortune. Well since my company, or where I work. The company is not mine, of course, otherwise I would have to enjoy my decamila € per month with a beer and a thousand pounds in hand, certainly not to write on the blog. Here I work here, pay no attention to the gray skies of Berlin, this is set as "default color".
I have my desk, my computer, a lot of paperwork, a lot 'of disorder and internet access in GA that I dreamed the night. We have the espresso machine subject to unlimited tax paid by the company, but the sugar you need to bring from home. Like, "why?" Here one thinks of health: caffeine, no diabetes. To be honest is a bit 'a euphemism for the word "espresso", but the pig makes the device work perfectly, because my Polish colleague was the cradle as her granddaughter. Fortunately, our coffee is not comparable to the liquid tar that you need the Polimi style vending machines.
The working day began punctually: between 8 am and 11.30 am more or less everyone in the office and more or less do their eight hours a day. For my arrival at 9:05 and I leave at 17:15, eight hours for work, 10 minutes lunch break. You work to live not the other way. First thing to do, right after you turn on your computer, check the countless e-mails I receive e-mail on the job. A week or two, usually. Contrary to what he does any other Italian worker with an internet connection available, I ordered not to use Facebook at work is a matter of fairness, why do not you come and say that I love hanging around instead of doing my duty . But what exactly is my duty? Simply put my professional role is that of a developer firmware (VHDL based) on FPGA platforms della famiglia Xilinx per applicazioni di management ed elaborazione di campioni provenienti da sistemi di misure fotoniche... Capito un cazzo, eh? Vediamo se ce la faccio a farvi un esempio. Un mesetto fa il capo mi dice che quello che prima si faceva fare al software, mo me lo devo smazzare io in hardware. Proviamoci, dico io. Dopo una settimana di schizzi, scarabocchi, bestemmie (in italiano), ore ed ore a pensare, ad interpretare ed evidenziare, ho partorito questo:
Come potete leggere chiaramente, il tutto funzionava benissimo. Peccato non facesse il lavoro per il quale era stato progettato. Allora ho tirato fuori questo dopo circa un’altra settimana e mezza:
Ovviamente, dopo avere eseguito una bel po’ di test, sulla carta il tutto funziona da Dio, come il seguente grafico può dimostrare:
Peccato che, ad oggi, dopo un mese di lavoro, una volta provato sull’apparato, non funzioni una cippa e mandi in crash il computer sul quale lo sto testando. Il capo oggi, molto amichevolmente, mi ha dato due settimane per sistemarlo. Ma settimana prossima è l’ultima prima del mio rientro in Italia per le feste, quindi speriamo di cavare qualche ragno dal buco. Ad ogni modo, questa è la dimostrazione che i hard years of study at the university are served something that I learned that a good engineer is aware of its potential and knows his chances. You saw how I was good inside when those spaces? But they are not completely satisfied of matching color, I missed the blue and I had to use the pen. For Christmas I'll give a box of crayons.
Hard work, in Germany, also brings sweet rewards. Like this one:
Or a chocolate Lindth St. Nicholas with a lot of "Frohes Fest!" Written on it. For those who were wondering if: you, our secretary spoil us ...
Then, every time the boss comes out with the bears ...
... or with the thirteenth and fourteenth year as ... I prefer the bears to two months per year, eh, but it makes no sense to argue. : D
In recent months, moreover, I also had to deal with the Penguins. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I am not referring to those not in clerical garb and even the poor prisoners of the zoo in Berlin. One fine day a package arrives for my Russian colleague with a nice label like this:
Since the size of the box, boh, a 10x10x10cm cube, l’idea che possa contenere dei pinguini era alquanto improbabile. Beh, che stupido,certo è pure scritto sull’etichetta che non ci sono pinguini all’interno. Però magari è un divieto: divieto ai pinguini di portare il frack, c’è anche il papillon! No, non credo. Vietato appoggiare pinguini sulla scatola! Geniale, magari ci appoggio un cane, un gatto, un tenero koala, ma non un cazzo di pinguino! No way. Ci sono! La scatola contiene pericolosi oggetti satanici, non adatta a suore sotto la maggiore età (65 anni). No non ci siamo: non dare la scatola ai pinguini, potrebbero conquistare il mondo o, chessò, la libertà. Beh potrebbe andare se the penguins look like these here on the side. I finally had to ask someone more experienced than me (Google) to find out that the signal in question indicates that you should not freeze the packaging. I would expect quite a snowflake crossed, a refrigerator closed with a padlock, a lemon ice on a red background, but not a penguin in frack.
Some might now ask: but after all these fucking six months you can know what did you do at work? Or should we believe you drank coffee, defeated the Penguins, eating biscuits, chocolate and murdered the entire world population of gummy bears and drawn with crayons writing (with an illegible writing) words in English macaroni on a sheet of paper which would certainly have liked to stay a tree while they are not forced to use so infamous?
So does that mean I failed, I'm a bad writer, I could not explain, I failed to convey clearly the result of my so hard and arduous work. I could ask the boss for a further confirmation, to understand how to be more clear, but may confuse you even more since last week I changed the neon lights in all offices, because I was the only high enough.
Post Scriptum: For those who want to learn more about the gummy bears council this post.
... Semm and I left, touch cum de de védar büceer a touch, a life Noeva ended quand el maar while you qéla vœgia the pica scpáll the ...
And here I am to repeat my note-depth on Italian politics. Nobody cares? Yeah, that's why, as the title, my opinion is only a couple of pennies ("My two cents" in the U.S. or a "dime" in Italy). On October 7, 2009 the judges of the Consultations were expressed on the constitutionality of the so-called "Lodo Alfano", creating havoc with their decision, thrill, fear and horror.
For those who had not understood, or perhaps intentionally had not yet explained it to him, the said Ruling imposed by an ordinary law, not constitutional, a provision that would effectively amended Article 68 of our Constitution. The offending article is that concerning parliamentary immunity. Article 68 is in force in force since November 14, 1993, having been amended by the Constitutional Law 3 of 29 October 1993. Before the constitutional amendment, subject to a criminal prosecution was necessary parliamentary approval to proceed with the Chamber. If the Chamber denied the authorization, the lawmaker was not processed until the end of the engagement. After the dust Tangentopolesco (or do much Duckburg Topolinia this term, right? But makes the idea of \u200b\u200bhow it ended up all over the year) during the first 90 Article 68 was amended as follows, requiring that "without authorization of the respective House, any member of Parliament shall be subject to personal or home search, nor can they be arrested or otherwise deprived of liberty or kept in detention, except in the execution of a final conviction , or if caught in the act of committing a crime for which the arrest is expected required in the act. " "Similar authorization is required before members of Parliament to wiretapping, in any form of conversations or communications, and seizure of correspondence." All clear?
Mr. Alfano and his merry band of scamps parliamentary majority has seen fit to reintroduce parliamentary immunity for the four highest offices of state: Prime Minister (Silvio), Head of State (Napolitano), Chairman the Chamber of Deputies (Fini) and the Senate (Schifani). Strange coincidence, the only one with pending criminal trials is the majority leader Silvio Berlusconi. For banks of the defense before the Constitutional Court, the supreme self-governing body of the Italian judiciary, lawyers - and MPs - Niccolo Ghedini and Gaetano Pecorella, together with Piero Longo, marked the center of the defensive strategy of Lodo Alfano: "The law is the same for everyone, but it is not necessarily its implementation, as indeed the Court has reiterated, "is the motivation with which the lawyer Ghedini opened his harangue. The attorney cited as "the rules on ministerial offenses, where the law distinguishes the ordinary common citizen by the minister." "You can not play the dual role of Head of State and defendant to fully exercise their right defense and without the sacrifice of one of the two. "
Then he says that being tightened sanctions in case a minister commits a crime directly related to his office, there is a difference in law enforcement. So for a Premier who has committed a crime, should face trial, the disparity in the law makes the process itself incompatible with the office of President of the Council, and is therefore the process must be removed, not to the President must resign. For those who have read Orwell, this is a pure application of doublethink, there is no question of a possible understatement in which to express and reinforce a concept denies its opposite, but a shrewd abilità di distorcere la realtà secondo il proprio volere, solo mediante l’utilizzo del verbo. Insiste Pecorella: "Con le modifiche apportate alla legge elettorale (voluta da questa maggioranza, n.d.r.) non può essere considerato uguale agli altri parlamentari (il Premier, n.d.r.). Non è un primus inter pares, ma un primus super pares". Per citare nuovamente Orwell, come ha fatto il britannico “Times” su questa vicenda, questa sembra una frase scippata a “La fattoria degli animali”, libro che non è null’altro se non una spietata metafora del totalitarismo, in cui in una società che predica la totale eguaglianza tra gli animali, si afferma che qualcuno di loro is actually "more equal" to everyone else.
I heard a comment in direct heat of a Parliamentary Assembly of the PDL, with drawn sword defending Berlusconi, created a curious parallel between what they did by introducing the founding fathers in the Constitution Article 68 and the decision to cancel the Lodo Alfano. When asked "We think that the founding fathers were in the wrong?" The parliamentary left in an "unspoken" a kind of synecdoche in which the assumption that the former Article 68 was erroneous, therefore it is also the whole constitution. Although his accent Sardinian memories, unfortunately I do not remember the name of that honorable. Sin has demonstrated his ignorance. In 1946 the times were different, and it is historical revisionism. After the fascist totalitarianism, the new Republic was in need of stability, since its catholic leadership. At that time the immunity was necessary, unfortunately it took fifty years and tangentopoli to allow its review. And fortunately. Why the late 40's none of the founding fathers had the foresight true, without going through a fictional non-believer, if only to understand that the media, with the approach of the 2000s to become the new opiate of the masses. According to Montesquieu (about 1750) in a normal rule of law, the supreme power is divided in three aspects: the executive power in the hands of the government, the legislative power in the hands of Parliament, the judiciary, which lies in the hands of the Judiciary. As you may know not everyone in the eighteenth century there was no other means of information that the print media, too bad it was only a lucky few know how to decipher. With the advent of literacy, the powers, three are now four. The fourth power is the media. That's right, it is because of the media that the information be amended for use and consumption of power, not necessarily one of the other three. That is why the so-called fourth estate can be stronger than all the others under certain circumstances. Council's vision for beginners the film "Citizen Kane" (original title Citizen Kane of 1941) in which a not exactly unknown Orson Welles shows us the disturbing story as a newspaper magnate attempt, just using his media power, to get elected as governor in the U.S. and as a result of the fourth estate still not get done (ok, I apologize for the small spoiler). As he wrote Ezio Mauro, editor of "La Repubblica":
"In a formula - aberrant, and greeted with applause only in Italy - one might say that the Chief Executive said in this case used the law to escape the judiciary, producing with his own hands and those most prone to a safe conduct tailored to his person in order to maintain power without having to reckon with the law. " there I just add that our chief minister keeps his hands in two out of four, but three out of five powers: executive, the legislative majority and the media. The judiciary seems firmly in the hands of the left (it seems to admit that may not be impartial, right?), But the fifth power? there, and how, at least two thousand years. In the past it was the pope to crown the emperors, religion is nothing but a sort of media power is exercised by means of superstition, professed in bleak places capable of accommodating hundreds of people at a time. Well, thanks to scandals Summer in the Church have turned, reluctantly, touch and vision, his shoulders. would wonder why. Why is so determined to stick to power in the blood, teeth and even toenails. It's simple, says the highly- Giuseppe D'Avanzo back to "The Republic": "policy, to Silvio Berlusconi, is nothing but the most effective way to enhance and protect its business. This has been so ever since, out of graduate course in law, you give the business. Stronger political ties with local and regional - and some "check in the mouth" - become a real estate developer. The policy allows him to christen, outside the law, the first national television network. Collusion with the policy - the corruption of a head of government and parliamentary control of eighty - enables you to get, by the Chairman of corrupt, two emergency ordinances and by Parliament, a law that requires the RAI- Fininvest. Not really a Prometheus economy in 1994 is broken and bankrupt (the debt burdens of Fininvest - 4000 billion lire - exceed operating income for the group). He lost but overwhelmed by the pimps and brothels tangentocratico invented "policy entrepreneur" by converting the company into a party. It 's still the policy that allows him to tamper with seventeen Read "ad personam", codes and procedures to avoid criminal convictions for a varied number of crimes (accounting fraud, tax fraud, embezzlement, corruption) to total impunity "Alfano law" which provides him with a parliament became his shop . Yeah, right, missing the part of the hero Vittorio Mangano, but if we as the sixth power of the Mafia, Italy becomes worse than a joke. We're all like now: let's pretend that the Mafia does not exist. But Berlusconi is a victim? Sure, it's just a victim of himself, everyone, sooner or later, what he deserves. He is just a victim of his past actions: the troubled sale of television rights, Mondadori judicial corruption in the award to snatch a Carlo De Benedetti (now owner of the group-L'Espresso Republic), the largest Italian publishing house. In short, a showdown between sworn enemies. To return to the fourth power, unfortunately (Silvio), or fortunately ("La Repubblica"), seems not yet entirely in the hands of the Premier. The time therefore seems ripe, the media campaign of print urges him still in his hands, the Church runs like hell raising his cassock and bruised legs skinny without showing the slightest sign of underwear, the international press the wand, the escort if they do not spin anymore. And the opposition is doing? The
IdV attacca il Capo dello Stato, talmente impegnati nel loro giustizialismo da dimenticare che in Italia non esiste il diritto di veto. Che vergogna. Napolitano, insieme a Fini, sono le uniche persone ad essere venute fuori senza il minimo ammacco da questo pandemonio, il primo firmando il Lodo Alfano, il secondo bacchettando da vero super partes la coalizione dalla quale proviene.
Il Partito Democratico? Se anche ha una parte in questo caos (i famosi “scossoni al Governo” teorizzati da D’Alema a pochi giorni dagli scandali delle escort, mi spiace per tutti ma non potevano essere un caso) il PD ha semplicemente dimostrato la sua deficienza politica, mettendo in ginocchio Berlusconi e la politica che egli rappresenta nel momento sbagliato, using (eventually) means that dirt had not had the courage to use the time of the Bicameral, at the time of Prime Minister D'Alema, in the days when we were discussing a conflict of interest. Of course, the timing was not appropriate: how can we expect to gain power and destroy an opponent without having neither a leader nor a common political line? Idiots ...
is that the spectrum of the fifth power goes back on, like a cancer in the ranks of the Democratic Party, the cursed Teodem do rehearsals with a new Christian Democrat UDC and again relegate the temporal power in the hands of God whose utility is questionable for the consumption of the caste of the Church. The left
radicale, orfana delle polo Lacoste del vecchio Bertinotti, si è ormai guadagnata l’attributo di extraparlamentare. Qualcuno le dica che i tempi di Berlinguer sono finiti.
E nella maggioranza?
Il PdL ovviamente si schiera, chi con Fini, chi con Silvio.
Le parole di Bossi non meritano, invece, il minimo commento.
In tutto questo calderone si inserisce anche la legge per il rientro dei capitali dall’estero. Nient’altro che un regalo a mafiosi, corrotti e farabutti pur di tentare di raschiare il fondo di un barile il cui fondo non esiste più, da quanto è stato raschiato a fondo.
Infine, per quanto riguarda la politica internazionale, trovo alquanto Crazy investiture, so to speak, a "champion of peace," Barak Obama. The most powerful man on earth at least had the good grace to blush and say that "not sure he deserves" the Nobel assigned. There are only two: either the gentlemen of the Academy of Sweden had a desperate need for publicity, to be still going strong even with the wind to mess up the Canute painters, or the last year no one really wanted peace more than Chief of the country that continues to kill people in Afghanistan and Iraq and allowing the inside to keep the death penalty. In this case, the world is exactly the same spasm. But maybe it's just an award that includes an omen for the future, where we can only hope.
said that, I retire to deliberate with my friends leftist judges of the Consulta. At least nine out of fifteen. Along with 72% of the Italian press to five national TV channels in six of all arrayed against the Premier, together with Fini that is too filthy still in its institutional role in the past for being leader of the Fiamma Tricolore and finally the Head of State, a former communist came to power gnawed babies and drinking blood from skulls virgin Masons fallen. In short all the ingredients for a great PARTY!
Pay attention to me: the next election board voted no.
"THE WAR IS PEACE FREEDOM IS SLAVERY
Ignorance is strength."
George Orwell, "1984." Date of first publication 1949.
Warning: this post contains purely grammatical disquisitions that we can cause intestinal obstruction to a corpse and that, therefore, could make you regret the good old school.
As I have stated, the Germans seem to be constantly invaded by Germanes and therefore it is necessary to the learning of Germany, their native language. Let's face it: at first glance may seem like a fucked up language. Then, slowly, when you start to study it seriously, you attend class, you begin to utter a few words, you fully understand the Badassery of that idiom. If Latin has prematurely left this world because of its complexity and its variations, I can not explain how Germany is able to survive. Here we accept everything and more: verbs, adjectives, articles, pronouns. In certain cases (nominative, accusative, genitive, dative) the verb, adjective, article or pronoun undergoes a change minimal, but that is enough to send you into total confusion. Not only that, there are an infinite number of particles that are attached to the verb's meaning and change within the sentences a bit 'more complex move to right and left without any restraint or respect for anyone. For example? The verb "machen" (to do). Beautiful, I like it. But if I add "zu" (zumachen), I became "close", if we put a bell '"auf" (aufmachen) means "open" and a wonderful "aus" (ausmachen) becomes "off." Moreover, these particles can be placed or attached to the verb at the end of the sentence, obviously changing the meaning of the verb itself! But it is not over yet, is also used to say open "öffnen" and close using the good old "schließen", not we run the risk of confusion, no? Sounds terribly complicated? Wait until you read the rest.
There are four letters in the good old Germanic language goes all proud, a bit 'like the English ñ is proud of her: "ö" is pronounced as in our Varese, a beautiful "or" closed. "ä" is pronounced "is" "ü" the usual Varese with the "u" closed and narrow "ß" is a simple double "s", the Swiss, from the top of their minds they thought to eliminate unnecessary and character I'm writing two times the "s". This makes the enormously angry Germanes without any delay claiming that because of this, to understand a German-speaking Swiss need subtitles in-real. Despite the literal and phonetic similarities with the best dialect lumbaart do not try to say that in summer you Kalt, because you all look bad. Here more than a bit 'of Kalt you can have in winter, when days are short, the average is around ten minutes and you have to climb the ice fall and kill l’orso polare per rientrare in casa dalla finestra, a stento raggiungibile nonostante i quattro metri di neve.
Ma in fondo il tedesco è facile. La prima regola che ti insegnano è che il verbo è al secondo posto nella frase, sempre e comunque. A parte nelle domande, che è sempre per primo, a meno che non sia una w-frage, perché allora è sempre secondo o a meno che il tempo non sia composto, perché in questo caso va spezzato in due, l’ausiliare (o il modale) secondo e il resto alla fine; certo se ci fosse una frase subordinata, che non rispetta affatto questa facilissima regola di posizionamento verbale, il verbo della frase subordinata, appunto, va messo alla fine, anche se è composto, credo... Chiaro e limpido, vero? Poi ci sono i pronomi tutti declinabili, il pronome relativo che è fatto dall’articolo stesso, dei fantomatici pronomi definitivi che mi fanno un po’ paura, uno strano complemento oggetto che a causa delle preposizioni si fotte gli altri complementi rendendo necessaria la declinazione, un bellissimo articolo negativo (kein/e), sei verbi modali e, last but not least, il fenomeno dell’agglutinamento (o agglutinazione?) delle parole!
Il Germanico è una lingua agglutinante, non vuole necessariamente dire che contenga glutine, bensì che parole diverse si uniscono a formare tante nuove parole dalla lunghezza allarmante. Esempietto facile-facile: “Fahrkartenschalterhalle” that is a bit 'to mean hall-where-you-are-the-door-to-do-i-tickets. But what is ahead in German? Advice? Never use the word "obvious" in German: selbstverständlich, which misses a cock with clumping, but use a word so fucked up to say a huge cock is beyond any reasoning. I do not ever be using.
There is a possibility you have to ask what time it is. Well, in Germany the right words to use are "Wie spät ist es?" Unfortunate that translated literally want to say "How late is it?". To me that's okay Stakhanovism German, but this is pure historical pessimism of their ruling class, basking nell'autocompiacimento into believing that the subject is always late, yelling could do with Hitler, their favorite phrase: "Schnell, Scheisse ... Schnell !!!".
If anyone were to ask me how late it is done, I pledge to respond with something like "I do not know, but it is not late ..." The numbers
Germans behave so strange. Quiet, again applies the metric system and all good Germanes knows how to count to 10 using fingers and those using up to 20 feet, a good order of magnitude more compared to the Italians know that without a calculator to count up to one, but only because we reason with the pea. Children do not play here, however, to one, two, three - star, but at eins, zwei, drei - Polizei, perquotendo the victim that does not stop in time with wooden batons fleshy engraved with a swastika. But back to the numbers, if up to 20, for better or worse, we learned that each language follows an anarchy of his own (including Italian and German) here we are faced with the apotheosis of nonsense. Even in this case is the natural order of things to be changed. You have to say "twenty"? Get ready to say, one-and-twenty, all attached: einundzwanzig. The climax is reached at 555 which reads fünfhundertfünfundfünfzig. An overdose of "u" that condemn straight to eternal damnation the most pious of the neo-Latin linguists.
Last but not least, if you happen to end up in Cruccolandia keep in mind the three most important phrases for beginners: 1 waste Ich kein Deutsch. (Literal translation: "I speak no German") 2_ verstehende Ich nicht. (Literal translation: "I do not understand") 3_ Busen sind Deine Riesige. Mochtest du ficken? (Literal translation: "Your boobs are huge. Would you like a fuck?") Unfortunately they were also the only well-recorded phrases in mind idol Giovanni Trapattoni, who during his adventure in Germany with Bayern-scandal ended his interview with a fantastic "I am finished" (Ich habe fertig) rather than saying "I'm through, becoming a cult for young Germans, and also for Gialappa's.
PS I have tried all ways to find anywhere the famous "Ipse Dixit" Mai Dire Gol did that in '98, just the press conference Trap in Monaco, but my search did not match any result. Possible that in that vast sea of \u200b\u200binformation that is the World Wide Web, this piece of football history is gone irretrievably lost?
"Italy is a country in which there is a 'fascism lite' I do not like at all. Italy is a nightmare from which I hope the Italians wake up soon. Italy is the country I love. "
's already been three months since I left Italy, half of my Probezeit has already arrived and with it have vanished also the first twelve weeks of German. Only three months, but I already spent a life when I was working Finmeccanica, when summer was starting, when I did not know a word of Germanes. Well Summer is beautiful here and gone, Finmeccanica is only a memory, and German is difficult to understand, a bit 'not to speak (without great pretensions to grammatical correctness, if you have a good vocabulary). The school to which I am writing on paper is good, is not the Goethe Institut, sin which only has two flaws: the secretaries when they talk it seems that you take the piss (exact words of a fellow Bergamo) and the level teaching is linked (at least nell'Abendkurse, evening course) to the skill and desire to do the teacher. To le prime sei settimane il mio insegnante norvegese sapeva fare il suo mestiere, ma la restante metà del corso è stata pessima. L'insegnante era una quarantenne frustrata che basava le sue lezioni sulle fotocopie di un libro degli anni '60, parlava da sola, iniziava dopo e finiva prima dell'orario pattuito. Insomma una copia un po' più femminile del mio insegnante di Inglese delle superiori (quella vecchia spugna di Barozzi, per chi se lo ricorda). Così, usando come uniche armi la buona volontà, la mia ricevuta di pagamento ed il mio buon senso l'ho fatta cacciare, minacciando di non pagare per altre dodici settimane anche se non sapevo ancora se il mio capo mi avrebbe pagato il corso, in barba agli obblighi contrattuali. Actually it has a little crooked nose, but I can never tell if their noses for a particular reason or always distorts whatever. In three months I will have some answers.
Meanwhile they have already partially entered the habits and customs (this does not mean that you will see me dressed up in traditional costumes, with red suspenders, white shirt and green shorts). Using a bicycle to move over short distances (for those long is the S-Bahn) a few days I use to go to work and even for shopping. It is a kind of training, will report in November because my beloved Golf in Italy. One more reason to leave it in the warm Italian soil for the whole next year is that last week I kindly left on foot with the battery ground.
The bike still comes in handy for moving here in the plains, stiffness in Terga separately. To make matters worse a few hundred meters from my home to unravel the miles of cycle paths, the most famous elle which built on what remains of the old pavement of the wall (called Berliner Mauerweg) in the south of the capital that stretches over fifty kilometers. Throughout the vast region around Berlin, there are bike paths that can take you anywhere, plowing prairies of immense fields of barley, wheat, maize.
Berlin is still a green city. Right in the middle, facing the Brandenburg Gate is Tiergarten, a kind of Central Park in New York. There apparently is very similar. people jogging every morning, walk dogs, it takes a walk, there are those who take the afternoon sun and evening we organize concerts. It is in front of the Tiergarten (and two hundred thousand people) that Obama made his speech during the election campaign of 2008.
Another city park, as I mentioned in past posts, is the Mauerpark. I've redone a ride in the hottest day of summer in Berlin, where they have touched thirty degrees, so to document a bit 'because Germanes are enthusiastic about the karaoke. Noted by the wings of the crowd.
There are people who, thanks to us Mauerpark bell. In addition to organizing the karaoke guy (who not only do you pay, but if you go to sing also offers a bottle of beer), there are so many people with the "returnable" manage to get to the end of the month . These people (mostly elderly) are grabbing all the bottles left on the ground or thrown in the bins by those who frequent the park. Here in Germany an empty bottle is paid 8 cents di euro ed a giudicare da quante ne ha prese il signore in questa foto, forse non ti fanno diventare miliardario, però ti aiutano a mettere qualcosa sotto i denti.
A proposito di cibo: sono migliorato parecchio a cucinare. Pensavo già prima di essere al di sopra della media maschile italiana nell’arte culinaria, ma ora sono paragonabile alla media femminile (ho detto paragonabile, non fraintendiamo). Sono diventato bravissimo a fare le torte. Grazie alle ricette segrete datemi da mia madre ed un forno a microonde (un must per un uomo single) i nove chili che ho perso il primo mese saranno già per metà recuperati. Certo, all'inizio non sono mica tutte roses and flowers, the results were very encouraging, because I never turned on a microwave in my life.
But the scientific method invented by Galileo can be applied also in the kitchen and so, after countless failed attempts I managed to make three cakes to offer to my colleagues for my birthday.
The head was so enthusiastic that he told me that to make the engineer are wasted and that maybe I would agree to change jobs. Taking into account that are currently being tested does not sound very good.
What usually eats a single man Italian in Berlin that? Breakfast is light, a slice of cake and a cup of coffee (mocha strictly). At noon, a sandwich-looking face (picture) in which various cheeses and typically German bratwurst.
the evening, typically meat and side dish beans, peas, carrots, potatoes with onion sauce and a little garlic. The only pasta on the weekend because it's too long to cook. next step? The risotto, mashed potatoes, polenta (without copper pot though) and some delicacy in meat, say, duck in orange for example. So, if I could by deception to invite a girl to dinner at my house, you can never say that "In the midst of a romantic dinner, she ran like hell because he has offered a Simmenthal.
To stay within the cooking I made the serious mistake to accept food from strangers. Well actually I've accepted by the owner, but the result remains that it was a mistake. Why? Why I agreed hands down a repulsive Möhrensuppe (carrot soup) from the yellowish color that my hostess kitchen at least twice a week in big pots and which fills the belly. Aside from the color, which made me understand what he meant by that chunk of "The Goonies" to "I made a bottle vomiting that seemed true, and the smell, I went to the desire to taste with a fork when I examined the contents with a high content of garlic cloves in whole seeds.
Needless to say, finally the fact that ... Möhrensuppe
Each week the lady comes up with the soup in question and every week I do go to the sink. We can not tell me that sucks ... D 'On the other hand I hope that the huge number of pieces of garlic a day does not clog the drain. However last week was able to trim two dishes: the usual stuff and yellowish green beans sautéed with chicken breast. These completely edible, and actually good! Sin has been able to put the icing on the cake giving him even two additional accessories: lemon squeezed and adds to the soup (according to her to make it good, but the result is not changed) and a pot of plain yogurt to add to beans!
The end that made the Möhrensuppe already know, green beans, instead, I ate them alone, and yogurt for dessert.
"You're a jerk." "Why?" "I do not know, but I like to tell you. "
After a month in German is finally time to establish a budget: within 3 months I have left Italy behind, I left work, family, friends, because I had no girlfriend, I have changed state, country, city, work, everything in too short a time to realize it completely. Finally live on my own.
Certainly, the micro apartment that has become my luxurious home has a ceiling that is high only an inch of me, un'odiosissima carpet in the bedroom and a dingy linoleum in the kitchen, nothing that vaguely resembles the shutters or blind, but despite this I wake up every morning at 5.30 am, I must say that I am just fine. Also the price is low, I pay only 350 euro per month, including Internet access, heating, electricity, telephone (only for calls in German) and use the washing machine's owner. Board, wash, clean, cook and sew and darn if necessary, all of which are beyond the reach of the engineer average, although the military did not even iron his shirts. And to think I knew a being full of arrogance that at the ripe age of 23 could not BEND shirts and toenails was CUT from his mother. However what is most problematic about living alone, needing then a certain amount of experience, is that lentils depicted on the packaging of canned food are dangerously similar to the beans. Another thing to keep in mind is the end of the food. Who knew that tomato sauce, once opened, should be eaten after three days? In short, it is written on the label, but far too small. And then the words should be flashing to attract the attention of the inattentive consumer. If I were still in Italy I turn to some consumers' association. Instead they are in German and then I can guarantee that past open for a week and a half, is still good. Idem hot dogs expired six days (which is why they cost so little) I will try a consumer association Germanes requiring the accuracy of the schedule. The bread to make toast but if you keep it beyond the third day after the end makes the mold. I really want is to appeal to a consumer association ... Usually I eat toast for lunch that I prepared the day before, but my head is usually going to make kebabs for those who want, and paying, of course. I like a lot (and then eat at least 2.50 euro for a pound of stuff) just is a bit 'pensantino afternoon and I abbiocco the salt. So I will limit myself to two kebabs a week ... The problem is that over time could also kill me ... Engulfed by its ulcer perforating die is not definitely a worthy end. The most important thing remains the fact that I changed jobs. Finally, I do not scratch the balls 8 hours a day, even if it happens at times that have squeezed their brains too Oretta the last steps in a trance in front of the monitor, his eyes vacant and foaming at the mouth. Finally, the electrical engineer and I do spout a good salary, who the fuck are interested in becoming a manager? Luckily not to build more missiles) The first thing you have given me, even before starting to work, were the business cards, to squander the wind.
The company, despite being a small company (we are 11), è leader nel Photon Counting (questo sconosciuto) ed ha una forte base multietnica. Ho un collega polacco, uno russo ed uno di origine cinese. Si parla inglese, ovviamente, e devo dire che nell’ambiente lavorativo in Germania, credo si possa fare a meno della lingua tedesca. Comunque sto frequentando un corso base due sere a settimana. Dopo un mese so dire i numeri e li capisco (il più delle volte) ed ho un vocabolario che raggiunge addirittura le 30 parole. L’altra sera ho speso un’ora e mezza per scrivere una mail alla padrona di casa, che a quanto ho capito è andata in un centro benessere, per chiederle quando torna. Un’ora e mezza per scrivere dieci righe. Non sembra, ma è difficile esprimere concetti sapendo coniugare solo il presente dei verbi e nessun tempo composto... Come se non bastasse l’altra mattina ero sull’S-Bahn (la metropolitana di superficie che mi porta al lavoro) e stavo leggendo un libro sulla mia PSP, quando è salita una mandria di piccoli germanesi, avranno avuto al massimo 7 anni. Ovviamente erano molto interessati al mio giocattolo ed hanno cominciato a parlarmi. Io non capivo loro, e loro non capivano me quando tentavo di districarmi con le poche parole che conosco. Insomma, se non riesco a farmi capire nemmeno dai bambini, che speranze ho di abbordare una ragazza? Alla fine, raggiunta la mia fermata, sono fuggito a gambe levate lasciandomi alle spalle una frotta di bambini additanti. La Tedeschia comunque è proprio una strange land: you can not see black people around and there are strange yellow stars on the jackets of some individuals. For me they are scavengers or something. Strange that you can not see around even a jew, oh, well ... The women are tall and blond, the men are tall and blond, all blue-eyed, the children are too blond, too high to them, with eyes of ice and greet you in a strange way, they raise their hand held to 45 ° making a "Sieg Heil!" that leaves little room for imagination.
Obviously I'm kidding. Berlin is a multicultural city, has the highest concentration of Turks after Istanbul and that is why the are well Kebab prezzo, giganti, unti quanto basta e di una bontà divina (anche se in genere sono considerati la via più breve per l’obitorio, dopo la classica revolverata alla tempia). Qui sono tutti in fibrillazione per il ventennale della caduta del muro (vacca Eva, vent’anni) che si terrà il 9 Novembre. In tutta la zona centrale della città, davanti alla Porta di Brandeburgo , al Reichstag , a Potsdamer Platz, c’è una linea di mattoni per terra, che prosegue e taglia strade, edifici, piazze. É la linea dove c’era il muro fino al 1989.
In Potsdamer Platz , di fronte al Sony Center ed al grattacielo della Deutsche Bahn ci sono cinque o sei pezzi di muro, solo per fare da attrazione ai turisti. Devo dire che lo facevo più grosso, più spesso e più alto. Forse però erano i bunker e le torri di guardia della “linea della morte” ad essere il maggiore espediente. Mi sono un po’ smarrito nel vedere quella striscia di mattoni che taglia la città nel mezzo. Pensare che praticamente da un giorno all’altro gli abitanti di una Berlino non avessero più la libertà di muoversi non solo nel loro stato, ma nella propria città, pensare che i treni che passavano a cavallo del muro ed entravano nel territorio controllato dagli Alleati, non si fermassero alle stazioni. Insomma, mi ha fatto un certo effetto scattare questa foto.
Nonostante questo però i Berlinesi sono rimasti uniti; i tedeschi, in barba alla Guerra Fredda, ai russi ed agli americani, alle crisi dei missili ed alla Cortina di Ferro, sono rimasti un popolo unito. Alexanderplatz è per buona parte occupata da info-point sulla storia del Muro, con grandi striscioni che evocano le date più importanti e la scritta “Wir sind ein Volk” (noi siamo un unico popolo) campeggia ovunque. C’è un percorso interattivo tra i cartelloni che spiega (in tedesco ed in inglese) la storia di come si è arrivati alla costruzione ed all’abbattimento del muro. Poi c’è una vetrina in mezzo a tutto questo, with some historical relic. And look, look what I found.
A mythical Amiga500! The same as I have in my room and play video games as yes and no when I was six years. The same monitor, the same keys. The caption reads: "Since the summer of 1988, the Environmental Library in East Berlin worked with a computer-Amiga500 a donation of Alternative List party of West Berlin - initiated by Roland Jahn. This new technology allowed the deployment of tens of thousands of leaflets and proclamations of opposition to the revolutionary regime in the autumn of 1989. " It has a certain effect and I think that we used to play Golden Axe, people used the same Amiga500 for something so important. A few hundred meters from Alexanderplatz, in addition to (or on this side) of the wall is the monument that I could not visit. There is a little park, with some bed and some small tree. At its center are two bronze statues.
Two individuals have been surveying for hoary east. One standing and one seated, dressed in long raincoats, people staring into the distance looking for something that I am sure you will not be easily forgotten, in search of the dream that they conceived, that seems utopian, but in the end has not proved useless. He was chased by many, has been and is still exploited by too many today. Certainly here capitalism and competition have come to claim their victims, even among the peddlers of hot dogs.
short! That was also the orange vane! I would I have bought two for level playing field.
Before coming here I had never seen a monument that could also be classified as a death trap. I am talking about Holocaus-Mahnmal . The monument is a memorial next to the Brandenburg Gate which should be considered a warning to future generations, not to forget the Holocaust. Ok, but regardless of the profound meaning, is also a death trap. It consists of some migliaio di steli di calcestruzzo di diversa altezza, tra le quali ci si può camminare o, per i più intrepidi, possono essere scalate. Il problema è che le vie tra una stele e l’altra sono ad angolo retto e, fino a prova contraria, il calcestruzzo non è trasparente. Ebbene, sfido chiunque a percorrerlo senza rischiare di andare a sbattere contro qualcuno che sbuca da una via laterale. Potrebbe essere un buon modo per fare nuove conoscenze, a parte i lividi, si intende.
Berlino è una città piena di artisti, anche la mia padrona di casa lo è. Fa foto e filmati alternativi, mostre fotografiche e di quadri ( Questo è il suo sito). Diciamo che qui you can breathe a remnant of the Cultural Revolution of '68. Every Sunday at Mauerpark (Park Board) is a giant flea market where you can find a bit 'of everything used stuff, much used, almost new, etc.. etc. Between the stage and the flea market, on a hill, was a piece of wall long enough prey that is obviously the best graffiti artists around. On the lawn, weather permitting, we meet every Sunday at least a thousand people (no exaggeration), there are those who buy, the seller, who is playing (with a lot of amplifiers, microphones and lights), then there are concerts organized in front of a small amphitheater carved into the hill, food and beer abundance, artists and jugglers, Punkabbestia, there is one who does the karaoke as I have said is sought after by the Germans and even a guy with a bag full of tools and keys for each system you usually bike there on the prairie in exchange for a few euro. With the fact that it was simply the Wall and a few hundred meters of land (ok, the "death strip") to share the freedom from totalitarianism, I think that the policy has pushed to maintain a degree of anarchy and but always within the intellectual freedom and rigor of reasoning typical of the Germans. There's nothing out of place, you move from one place to another by public transport which are ramificatissimi, timely and clean. I move primarily with the S-Bahn and my Golf I have to force to turn it on at least once a week, let her do the rust. Before December I really believe that document it in Italy and will only pay the 200 euro mark in 2010, he will spare, so, in 1000 insurance -.-'' Thank goodness I did not take it to the new diminished. Here are all the bicycle, loaded on the train and with rain or wind, they reach the nearest station to the office or go to the grocery store. Ok to assess what happens during the winter months, but I think the story does not change. Suffice it to say that with time the crowds that gather, rather, who we are, with fifteen degrees you see them around in a shirt and shorts or skirt without stockings and thongs. Here there is always wind, is a background to which I have yet to get used to. The first day of work my colleagues and I were in t-shirt shirt, cotton sweater and jacket. There you can imagine when it is summer (like today, twenty-five degrees) and décolleté necklines that you see around. I do not know why but women here seem all the great chicks, blonde for the most part but even more do not joke at all. In short, the land of toys for every male-alpha. Too bad I'm a male-omega, but not point out. I knew that the hardest part of this adventure in Germany is not stato il nuovo lavoro, non sarebbe stata la lingua, non sarebbe stata la vita da solo, ma la cosa per me più difficoltosa è trovare nuovi amici, fare nuove conoscenze. Purtroppo la scuola di lingua non è sfruttabile gran che da questo punto di vista. La gente va e viene con troppa velocità, per lo meno per me. Memore del consiglio di mio padre: “Se vuoi fare nuove amicizie devi andare in chiesa... Si che le figlie di Maria sono le prime a darla via.” (testuali parole) Domenica scorsa sono andato in chiesa. Era piena di giapponesi che suonavano il violino. Il più piccolo aveva penso 3 anni il più anziano sui 10. In verità ero stato invitato da una mia compagna di corso sessantenne giapponese, al saggio dei suoi allievi. Il famigerato “Metodo Suzuky” consiste in 78 ore a settimana di meditazione con un violino in bilico sulla testa stando sotto una cascata di acqua gelata, cilicio e fustigate due volte al mese e esercizi fisici tostissimi. In verità quando ho sentito parlare di Suzuky ho pensato che al saggio finale i bimbi dovessero suonare il violino mentre sfrecciavano di traverso con un motard o facevano una penna stile Valentino Rossi. Invece ‘sti pischelli alti un soldo di cacio se la suonavano da Dio, impressionanti. La cosa più divertente è che il metodo Suzuky imponga un coinvolgimento anche dei genitori, almeno uno di dei due. Anche loro prendono lezioni con i figli senza un loro strumento ma usando quello dei loro pargoli. Non pensavo effettivamente che there were so reduced in size violins. Well in the middle of the test, the stage is empty of kids and parents were up, with violins and microscopic children sang together a catchy tune. Fantastic! Too bad I forgot to make a pregatina, so the Lord has not accepted my plea and I have not seen even a daughter of Mary. What can you do, I want badly:)
"Every man is in the power of his ghosts to chime the hour in which his humanity awakens."
Having moved to Berlin from well 10 days I begin to feel nostalgia Italian soil. In fact I do not know how to move forward, are a nostalgic sentimental.
I miss the bidet!
This is not hard, time is short, with all the chores to do at home (washing, ironing, cleaning, cooking) and I have to also make a couple of showers a day or more without a bidet ... Other than that I do not miss anything. Of course, nothing. Because in Italy it is not nothing left: no more half-season, there is no religion and there are more beautiful songs than once (Mark Charter docet). Not only that, in Italy there siamo persi un altra cosa ancora più importante: la Politica. Il Bel Paese è ormai in ginocchio sia dal punto di vista morale che culturale e la televisione occupa il ruolo fondamentale in questo rimbambimento generale. La gente ormai pensa più ai reality show che alla vita vera e propria, indebitandosi per comprare l'iphone o l'lcd da 45 pollici solo per vedere le partite di calcio in pay per view, si veste Cavalli o D&G per poi accorgersi di non arrivare a fine mese, magari perché non ha calcolato che il mutuo è a tasso variabile e la rata questo mese è aumentata a dismisura. Tutto questo solo perché i mass media impongono determinati usi, costumi, esigenze che non sono necessarie. Come si suole dire: il troppo stroppia. La mia is a general criticism of our leadership, I do not stop to the right or left, north or south, to the dogs or cats. How credible do you consider a country where it took the campaign to force the European elections has often been head of government to participate for the first times in the event of April 25, in which the annuity Storace also calls for Republicans Salo, they apply showgirls, letters, letteronze, and Mastella? How do you still believe in a political class that taxpayer money will buy villas in Kenya, which on one side exhibits photographs of the feasts of the premier private two days before the election and the other starts toast to the birthday of a certain half-rebuilt eighteen who plays the vamp behind the regrowth of his black hair bleached and basks in the flash of the flak that the actress even at the polling station? But then, I say there really need to "photoshopped" 'ste damn pictures?
Okay, you've voted in Italy, I did not. For technical problems, of course (embassy, \u200b\u200bdocuments, etc.. Etc.), But if you're wondering who I voted for the answer is simple: none. Tab, nothing, not even white because I'm sure someone in the seat or somewhere else a segnetto we can also put it. Why? You simply do not feel represented by anyone in the political landscape today. I omit the right because I never ever owned and I do not belong. I had to vote the League that even though it has made in its factories as time keeps the PCI and xenophobic drift squad? Apart from that Silvio is a special case, how can you be represented by people like Cicchitto, Bocchino, a charlatan turncoats as a layman ultraradicale Capezzone that is passed to the official spokesman of the PDL. While in 2004 railed against the Pope, Binetti abortion, now defends the words the Holy Father has spoken in Africa on condom. At least Dini and Prodi dropped after he gets re-elected from the ranks of the PDL is not done nor seen nor heard. I am surprised that there was no candidate with the UDC, the champion of Christendom party headed by a divorced white credibilissimo the Emanuele Filiberto. I would not have voted even for the PD: it is a party without an identity that can not even decide which group to join the European Parliament, which is rumored to give space to young people, but in reality it is still run by the usual unknown D'Alema, who at the time were to save as many as 400 million euro has been expressed by combining two votes opposed. The project is fallito nel momento in cui si sono volute unire due realtà, quella post-comunista dei DS e post-democristiana della Margherita, che non potranno mai convivere se non al prezzo di rinnovare completamente la classe dirigente che porti idee che siano sì nuove, ma anche condivise all’interno del partito.
Se il comunismo è fallito con il crollo dell’URSS ed il capitalismo ha dimostrato il suo fallimento con il recente Credit Crunch, bisogna trovare altre vie. Anche se i governi di ogni dove sono costretti ad un pesante intervento dello stato nell’economia (Obama docet) è assurdo ancora oggi pensare al vecchio concetto di lotta di classe (per lo meno nel ricco “nord” the world), yet the radical left is still against all, against everything, even against itself fragmenting into a thousand pieces only to have a seat in parliament. Of course this is only because they, too, that link, it showed the internal struggle to Rifondazione about a year ago when in a party that had barely reached 3% of the votes were reported in the challenge of internal fraud and Vendola Ferrero. If I were dead, I swear, I turn in his grave. And the good Di Pietro did not say anything? It has the merit of having made a more concrete objection to Veltroni, the demerit of being elected to have a certain Sergio De Gregorio (self = grab votes) which contributed to the fall of the last Prodi government, but a party that is based on hatred towards the Prime Minister has neither history nor the future.
And now two months after the earthquake in Italy, happened by accident in the electoral campaign, no one had the courage to propose to donate the full 8 per thousand for reconstruction rather than being reserved to religious beliefs (in 2008, there were More than a thousand million euro). Meanwhile the news Aquilani silent and suffer the cold at night and hot during the day locked up in the tents of the Civil Defense.
While there are still those who believe that there should be a strong man, the socialist bloc throughout Europe: it has begun a new Fascist?
"Ai guasti di un pericoloso sgretolamento della volontà generale, al naufragio della coscienza civica nella perdita del senso del diritto, ultimo, estremo baluardo della questione morale, è dovere della collettività resistere, resistere, resistere come su una irrinunciabile linea del Piave". Francesco Saverio Borrelli - Inaugurazione dell'anno giudiziario, 12 gennaio del 2002.
As a child, and not having yet had the mental disorders of adolescence, hormones, girls and everything else, you could not consider at all affected by some eating disorder, ate plenty, drank enough, it was poop regularly, but could not do increase the fat layer that some of his peers cradled so sweetly. Not that it mattered much, but the fat man hidden inside him pawing and shaking from the pain, shouting and cursing (and acciderboline ciribiricolccole) desiring one day to be able to win the freedom of that body, skin and bones. 
It was the eighties, the second half, when the world was still divided between good and bad and although we did not know clearly distinguish what were (the good and the bad ones I mean), TV screens are more convex dreams that never aired in the form of Japanese animation, with its depopulated the Commodore 64 and Amiga with that of the twenty-six, he has taught for addiction computer science and love for technology. The days ran long and endless, the weeks turn into months and then lasted blinks of an eye when we stopped to riosservarle. Autumn is finally dreamed forward to a snowy Christmas and throughout the remainder of those four weeks of summer were the only oratorio coveted goal, where the time to be bored with the one that was so narrowly accepted banknote with the face of Galileo dated by your mother in the morning, you could buy an ice cream or candy and twenty fags spend it all in, to find the missing figurines Volpi Poggi and no one had ever even seen from a distance with binoculars. 
The Fat, with a skilled and agile maneuver unworthy of its nearly 100 pounds, Magro relegated the Child in its deepest subconscious, starting to gulp down tons of snacks Mulino Bianco, tons of Nutella, pounds and pounds of trash, losing interest for girls, sports, and almost all interpersonal relationships. The domain undisputed ruler of this fat was so early. I wish I could say Magro that the Child was somehow aware of his status of "not more", but in captivity, along with too much sugar eaten up, they send the brain into baby food, the pancreas to the creator or even the awareness of having the tits could move him from its torpor. In the early days followed the first few months as the programs followed the pounds overweight, over the years, the faded colors of life around him: all shades of red and yellow heat lost, the indigo blue were transformed soon ashen alteration of what had once been; 
also green and orange when they lost their meaning of existence, the Fat Boys were no more than the white and black. Ormai il numero dei menti somigliava sempre più alle pieghe di una fisarmonica; l’addome, ormai simile a quello dell’omino Michelin, cascava sopra dei pantaloni larghi abbastanza per farci entrare il proprio padre; la schiena si incurvava e le ginocchia faticavano a reggere cotanto peso adattandosi in pieghe malsane. 
Hidden behind the sumptuous curtains, past colorful tapestries and paintings of old gray-haired, the monarch could be seen bent under the weight of its chili and exhausted from too much food swallowed. The eyes were still lively and dreamy, but the look did not seem happy or hungry, just tired, and when crossed to the Magro who had been a child, with a smile Messer Porcello grassissima dissolved in a soap bubble, leaving behind nothing but a scent lard. And the skinny girl understood. He understood that the Stout had always been within him, which were nothing more than the double side of the coin, the same half of pandoro, the two butts of the same sausage and that neither could live without the other in a eternal alternation, in an eternal struggle between good and evil, between freedom and slavery of calories from sweets, including obesity and anorexia. 
