marpado

When Vasco Rossi still meant something; not that it was much, mind you, but the character of Vasco had a little something to say. He was fortunate and quick to take up a niche that had remained empty until then in the stuffy Sanremo Italy, and his desire to sing about the emptiness and discomfort of youth with that bare and simple language marked his success. A kind of very watered-down rock (we were and still are in Sanremo Italy and had to take it slow anyway), which, however, given the style Vasco was going for, could only have a short life. And indeed, it did, as confirmed by the reality of Vasco post-'93 (but even post-'84 if we think about it), a pointless money-making puppet, created for the use and consumption of the hordes of brainless people who infest our poor country, folks who think it's poetry to do the "figa" gesture with their hands or yell "prendilooo com'èèè" while spreading their arms and showing off. However, Blasco is certainly blameworthy, but only to a certain extent: as I've read somewhere, Vasco Rossi adapted to the fans he found himself with, and instead of retiring when his ideas ran out, he continued to make money off of them; after all, who among us wouldn't have done the same, given the opportunity... A note of merit for this album, at least here there isn't the classic track with disgusting pedophilic allusions, which was instead a staple in previous works. A review that's too sparse.

I quote comments 23 and 24, a review that tries to be funny but fails, with middle school humor. And I also echo Bartleboom: by trashing this crap, we only play into the hands of those behind baboons like these two or Marco Carta or Finley: talk about them, even negatively, as long as they're talked about. They'll make money anyway, and the twelve-year-olds in heat will still buy the CDs, especially after reading a bad review, particularly if it’s just one negative review among thousands of fluffy articles and blogs infested with bimbiminkia, if only out of curiosity or for the thrill of "going nl kulo a quegli frocioni alternattivi di sto kazzo di debbaser hihihihi!!!"

And you, sciusciola, haven't even understood what I asked you: not the grammatical analysis but that of the sentence, that is how the phrases connect. DON'T YOU THINK IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER AFTER 'sia ora che,' I don't know, a 'you decide to drink...' rather than that completely disconnected sentence? As for metrics, it was fine and also syntactically correct. In reality, this, like so many other ramblings from the great Blasco, confirms that this jerk writes his "songs" in two minutes, and he doesn't even reread them or have someone read them for possible corrections, aware that any crap that comes from his pen and is signed V. Rossi will be taken as Gospel by the herd of sheep like you, dear Sciusciola, no matter what is written or how it is written. You are automatons without critical sense ready to gulp down any diarrhea as long as it has the right label on it. And the best part is that you talk about poetry...

but sure, you can also write with the initial of the nick capitalized...

Venusian, what a beautiful image...

Sciusciola, now that I think about it, I doubt you even know what the term fake means, but I wouldn’t be too surprised; you vascorossiani don't know so many things...

@Newromantic I think the summer and the resulting exposed nudity have hurt you...

Sciusciola, look, I'm one of the few in here without a fake account, so if I were you, I’d avoid repeating the same nonsense over and over. Anyway, I realize I’m wasting my time with fan-types of the national Blasco; characters like you are the stuff of sociology thesis material, no doubt about it. Since you tend to engage with Vasco's detractors always following the same pattern, I can't help but think you're forming some sort of subspecies of human beings, a kind of reverse Darwinism where the less gifted (intellectually, in this case) proliferate instead of becoming extinct—a sort of modern Neanderthal, where aggression is inversely proportional to IQ: you insult, as your idol deserves, and then you start throwing insults back (a reaction that’s understandable, up to that point). Then you try to understand why Mr. Rossi deserves so much offense seriously, analyzing his convoluted texts in terms of grammar, meter, and content, only to conclude in a few lines that we are objectively dealing with an ignorant drunkard with disgusting quasi-pedophilic tendencies, with the same artistic sensitivity as a drunk illegal parking attendant, a person of the lowest moral and cultural level who has found great success in Italy because he has evidently unearthed hordes of fans at the same level. Faced with these practically irrefutable conclusions, cornered by the evidence but also incapable of responding with equal linguistic and argumentative mastery (in simple terms, since you, like good ignorant goats, can't respond in the same tone), you again resort to insults and hysterical attacks, trying, given the environment you’re in (a site with thousands of users who are way more educated than you), one last desperate attempt to seem a little less goat-like than you actually are, Clako rambling about hidden social meanings in a supposed folk poem ("he’s not a poor idiot, in reality Vasco means blablabla"), you Sciusciola attempting to randomly throw around slightly more sophisticated vocabulary, ending up only producing even more hilarious results (at least take the trouble to keep a dictionary handy, right?). As mentioned, you’re thesis material. P.S. it's spelled eBeti, with a B.

Pleasant as Donatella Scarnati's face at lunchtime.

Indeed, veRSeggiativo is as horrendous as luCubre. Sciusciola I really hope for you that you are a fake, otherwise you would be the living proof of what Stoney, I, and others have been saying for a while about Vasco's fans.