alessioIRIDE

yes, but when is the barbecue?

hugoniot, I don't spit on you because I perfume you!

Fidia, my personal story is linked to Italsider just as Pernusconi's is linked to the mafia. I grew up in a house that overlooked the cannons of Italsider; my grandfather worked there, I used to go to the sea where Italsider discharged... in short, I would feel at home :) an invitation from you is unavoidable :) I'm coming!

We can talk until tomorrow morning, but I don’t think we would understand each other. If I generalized, it’s because it’s impossible to get into specifics. Based on my personal experiences in the north, I have to say that most of the people there disgust me because they fit certain mental characteristics that I inherently dislike. As a resident of the south, there are two million things I hate, but the only redeemable aspect, which, as far as I've seen in Padania, you’ve been deprived of for a long time, is conscience. People differ only by the place they live in, and I can tell you that in Naples, except for about 15% of the human cases that vote out of belief, the rest either don’t vote or vote hoping that the new one will sodomize them as soon as possible, leaving them to their lives. It may be simplistic philosophy, it may be common opinion, it may be that orgies are an everyday occurrence, but that’s how it works in Naples, and as long as it’s like this, and it will always be like this, I’d prefer to be born in Naples, amidst drugs and the Camorra, blood and concrete, rather than in the middle of Resdent Evol (of course, if you decide whether to be the policeman or the zombie... I don’t even know you). The aggression towards the Rom camp that they showed you on TV (damned TV... people should, like I'm doing, only talk about what they see and not what they’re shown) was carried out, organized, and maneuvered by the Camorra. The reasons? Probably the Rom were doing their petty thefts, something they can’t do here because without permission, nothing gets done. I’ve been living where I am for three or four years, and they’ve never harmed anyone... just explain things to them, forget about fingerprints (I’m obviously joking... long live the state, if it existed, if it wasn’t a Camorra with a flaccid dick). I don’t know... think what you want, that’s fine, but for me, I know, and since I’ve seen and heard, I’ll repeat it: ten times better Naples than living in the desolate lands of Padania (and this is said by someone counting down the days until graduation because then I’ll be free... mine is an educational discourse. It’s better to be educated in Naples, to see good and evil with absolute simplicity, trying to survive, than to be educated in the north... of course, there are exceptions, but you can’t base your thoughts on human cases... or can you?)

bartleboom... if someone calls me a camorrista or maradona, I shrug it off. But you, on the other hand, took it to heart (it’s like the third time you’ve repeated that you called me that... who cares, really). Maybe I hit a nerve… I’m sorry, next time I’ll talk about the Pokémon movie, they won’t get offended.

<< Someone might think that a boy like the one I’m describing is miraculous. In fact, you cannot be anything other than a bourgeois, that is, a student in his first or second year of high school. I would be willing to admit the miraculousness if you were from Milan, Florence, or even now from Rome. But the fact that you are Neapolitan excludes the possibility that you, while being bourgeois, cannot also be inwardly kind. Naples is still the last plebeian metropolis, the last great village (and moreover with cultural traditions that are not strictly Italian): this general and historical fact levels the social classes physically and intellectually. Vitality is always a source of affection and naiveté. In Naples, both the poor boy and the bourgeois boy are full of vitality. >>

dear psycrotopic, your post is an extraordinary example of mediocrity and from what I understand, you're Neapolitan. so you really hit the mark with a bazooka on a target in archery... the political class, the camorra, are trifles... the real problem is the zombies roaming Italy and the world and the essence of my review, which still escapes after 25 comments, as if I were some hermetic poet, was precisely this: why should I care about the world, why should I care about Italy? I'm Neapolitan, I live in the last VIVID Italian city, where consciences have not yet been completely fucked over, where people commit crimes just to follow their own path (a deplorable fact, but better than accepting Berlusconi as a saint... at least they keep a spark of life), where we still retain a glimmer of reason as we have made living in shit an anthropological issue... the point of my review was: you have your beautiful industrial waste, you’re Northern Italians, are you proudly tough? then throw your fucking industrial waste in your lands, try to surpass the limits set by the law less than the Roma that you despise so much or if you really have to commit crimes, do it in your beloved Padania. do you want to vote for your fucking Mario Merola called Berlusconi? fine, do it. but then let's build a wall. Italy ends with Tuscany and Emilia. south of Naples, it goes back to the Ottoman Empire and the story finishes. obviously, it's a provocation but I'm tired of being treated like a criminal wherever I go. zombies, Northerners, fucking lobotomized, you can kiss my dry and hairy Neapolitan ass if you want, but you can't put it in danger... if some friend of Berlusconi, since you all are, feels offended... well, tough luck for him. as far as I'm concerned, they don't even exist. today I escaped in my car and on my way back from Baia I was looking at the bay and everything beneath it... I felt alive, I didn't desire to be anywhere else and being more cultured and smarter than what the Italian state asks, expects, and above all demands is a good achievement. we live in a place that from the outside looks incredibly alive... obviously, it needs to be understood and comprehended and certainly, a housewife from Voghera can only understand how to make polenta. that said, let’s move on to honesty: I hate you... and I say it with the utmost reason possible. I hate the assholes who come here to dump their shame, I hate those fucked up Milanese all busy with tomorrow who would write on my report card in second grade, Maradona or drug addict just because I come from the last anarchic city, I hate those who are dead inside, I hate those who talk about garbage without knowing what it’s made of, I hate those who talk about garbage without having at least one dead family member from some cancer that has tripled in Naples in the last year, I hate the assholes who tell me ah Naples, I hate those who generalize, I hate the Northerners who listen to Gigi D'Alessio, I hate everything that you represent. I reread the comment and I sign it as well. it may be a reactionary drift and I'm reactionary by choice, but it’s not just this... it’s that I truly disgust you. with this, I say goodbye and go to sleep among the carcasses of garbage that Berlusconi forgot to collect. FOZZA NAPOLI, FOZZA LAVEZZI

when you finish the trial of intentions, watch the documentary and feel a little guilty, or maybe write a review about Iron Maiden.

I don't think I'm speaking in clichés or accepting them at face value; on the contrary. I didn't choose the place where I live. It's where I was born, and I'm not passively enduring it (in the sense that once I'm done with what needs to be done here, I'll pack up and leave, but not to Italy. In this little Italy, I can only live in Naples). I don't love Naples, quite the opposite... However, I consider myself lucky to have been born here rather than in Milan, Verona, or Reggio Calabria. That's it... I'm not a localist, and I always say what needs to be said. It's not that Naples is devoid of flaws; there are some monstrous ones, but I prefer the monstrosity of the abnormal to the monstrosity of the norm. If there are any offended Northerners by my review or by the transposition of my issues, I don't know what to do... Obviously, I've struck a nerve unintentionally. That said, I greet you as tonight we're heading out to flush out the Roma! Tschuss.

my mistake to think I could write about serious things hoping to be understood. forgive me, now I’ll return to my dumpster!