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Rating: I don't know about you, over there, but I don't have a clue about geopolitics.
Just like the 97.83% of any specific subject/topic related to any field that can be dissected by the human mind.
And this despite the fact that about twenty-odd years ago I used to buy my trusty copy of Limes by good old Caracciolo at the newsstand; clearly, I never read a page: the purchase was made solely to give myself an air of a sort-of pseudo-fake-intellectual with the noble newsstand attendant and, on the other hand, to try to justify the compulsive purchase of pages of the best illustrated press of the time: the myth-making Caballero (in a luxurious bound version) was one of the most high-sounding titles.
In reality, I’m telling you, I really wanted to be present, therefore I sat through these almost two hours of tangled proto-political-war-like discussions focused on extremely complicated topics related to spheres of influence and the delicate balance between the current world superpowers (which as everyone knows are Liechtenstein and Djibouti) solely to carry out an ongoing check on a fact that has been gnawing away at my mind for a long time now.
To do so, I strategically booked the event months in advance, that is, from the moment I learned (the triceratops I host in my garden told me: it’s more updated than I am) that the well-known geopoliticist Fabbri, director of the monthly Domino and a semi-regular presence on TV when discussing both wars and their derivatives, would be attending not far from the wrecked cabin.
The dramatic risk of failing in my intent was the inability to access the event since the archaic yet tiny Electra theater hosts fewer than two hundred spectators. But, by booking centuries in advance, I secured my spot. Even in the front row: a strategic position essential for the urgent "verification" within my competence.
And now, after having listened to him carefully and especially scrutinizing him well in person, sitting (un)comfortably on the stage a few meters in front of me, I can affirm with absolute certainty and without any margin of error that good old Fabbri, besides being ultra-prepared in his rants, endowed with embarrassing erudition, also equipped with sharp (self)irony, there, as I was saying, now I can finally affirm without any possibility of error that, indeed, He is really him: one of the heroes of my childhood:
the missing Lurch from The Addams Family!
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