Valeriorivoli

No, you don't have to force yourself to do something, but all those who rack their brains to receive, comment, and various mishmashes have a flair for writing, right? They are journalists in pectore, aren’t they? I’m not aligning myself with the censors, but my status of creating novelty should not only be acknowledged but at least not vilified, as so many curs don’t hesitate to do; it’s a matter of artistic osmosis whereby the national letters draw from my flowing eloquence, rinse their laundry in my ideal Arno, and extract new vitality. I thought I’d find an Arcadia on Debaser, not an abbey of censors. I love you all... I know I can sometimes seem pus-filled...

As usual, when one is incapable of using editorial means, culture and stilnovism lead to the most vulgar crudeness, like pale and diarrhea-ridden schoolboys, touching the sacred mother… eh, broken-ass MOTHERFUCKERS? I am born posthumously, as a certain philosopher said, I know from primers and alphabet books, your great-grandchildren will admire my renovatio idioma, you have done nothing for literature… retrograde and tardigrade.

I didn't think I was hated so much, expired brain they told me, or spoiled... I don't know how much cruelty there is in this world.

and speak with your own phrases, like this: v.a.f.f.a.n.c.u.l.o.

alessioiride what the hell are you talking with that fag of a nickname. Old shoe, scream the last scream old woman with the casket...I'm an anthropoid genius, you are still evolving. Watch out for the Grays, basic biological unit alessiairide.

solopirla fuck you and shut up. Who called you here? I will smash your shitty face.
Fantozzi is pure metaphysics.
And then how the idiots, the satellites, the drudges, the Ganymedes, the little servants of these four stinking fags line up... I can speak Italian however I want... my syntax is vibrant for reasons of time, my imaginative lexicon is Renaissance and creative; it is the future, you are dead letters. Study from Pinocchio’s ABC books. You are puppets in the garbage, maybe you are dead. I'm talking to myself.

Cammarota is an idiot; it's truly a gratuitous statement... THIS MOVIE TO SAY IT with FAntozzi is a CRAZY PIECE OF CRAP, not a masterpiece at all. LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD by comparison flows like a music video rich in meaning. GO TO WORK, IT’S DAYTIME.

THE CONCLUSION is that you are spineless homophiles, blind from birth, with the third eye fucked for centuries... just take any little treatise on physiognomy, like "L'Uomo Delinquente" by Lombroso, or on the physiology of astral influences, or the same ancestral psychic atavisms that swarm on our faces to grasp behind the intellectual facade that of the born perverted ex-priest, with impeccable delinquent stigmata, remnants of incarnations in the church's corruption that have been teeming since the dawn of Christianity, gathering the female scum of the low empire. Indeed, low empire, what am I talking about? It’s a Uranian epidemic, you are queers, you are blind, you are too many... TO THE PYRE.

But then this is a Pasolinian epidemic, a Masonic plot... filthy dishonest leftist intellectuals, I do not judge Pasolini for his homosexuality, I do not suppress the inveterate uranist, but I lash out against the rotten Catholic communist artist who babbles a message that makes no sense with his films. I took a film history exam with the hairy Guido Aristarco, Pasolini was among the studied directors, and I know more than you little students, cinema is a term coined by us. Regarding high poetry, the temporal boundaries dissolve... but what am I talking about, with four little idiots who have read two books and seen three films with a red thread, pontificating, bleating, flailing. I don't have a fake, either.

Grasp the Pasolinian contrast between the need for the sacred, terribly low human tendencies, and Marxist thought. For you, this is nonsense; for you, a man must be one piece, for you the inner torment does not exist, and you do not understand that it is what elevates the thought of an artist. You are a poor fool. And it's no use pulling out your university credentials to act superior: as soon as you express a thought, you reveal all your narrow-mindedness. And all these friends of yours who have met this and that, to me, sound like bullshit. At least as much as you know about fakes.

I don't flaunt a single stupid curriculum; I draw the line when I hear the nonsense and low-profile parties that swarm on Debaser. If I quote Dante, it fits; it serves as a term of comparison... even if Cecco d'Ascoli considered him a traitor of the faithful of love... see, the fact is that I have a truly pantagruelian library, and the miserable ones don't faze me; I'm not homophobic; I liked Crowley's poetry, who was bisexual... Then regarding friendships and the stories I tell are true, go to my site and you'll see a photo of me with Eva Grimaldi for instance. Welcome to the new Myspace! The stories I tell are true... THE DEAR PASOLINI used to go to Primavalle among the ragazzi di vita and would get violently beaten in a group with him tied to a pole and s...mized with a spade, it's the story of a former inmate who is my friend from the neighborhood who met Pasolini when he was young... it stuck in my mind that he couldn’t be touched in the face, otherwise he would hit you, as he had also done karate.

Listen, put aside the pretentiousness that your bookish comments display, as they have a literary parvenu vibe. For the sake of accuracy and editorial ethics, if you have any decency, inform yourself thoroughly about Totò's bibliography, just like you would with any other author, before shooting judgments with your four loud proclamations from your little corner; I was saying that Cammarota was a notable name in film studies, specializing in the fantasy genre. The book is wonderful, detailed film by film, with great literary and essayistic depth. Cammarota also published a book on Vampires in cinema, awarded in the film essay category in 1985. Perhaps that book on Totò is out of print, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. So before you speak, reflect and dig deeper, for the sake of intellectual honesty, and don't fire mindlessly with such brutishness. Read between the lines and come back in September. Testina.