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Very good, Greg. But if you don't send me the book by Gribojédov that you reviewed, I'll create twenty fake accounts, flood the review with them, and stuff it all into one! :)

The piece is fantastic, five stars to you and the Cure, and thank you for introducing me to it.

Beautiful ligdjs, I finally managed to get "The School of Dictators," it's sitting there nicely packed on the shelf, waiting for its turn. "Fontamara" is a little masterpiece, to be read and reread.

Ah good Iside, life is extended where there is hygiene. Personal and environmental. So not under Iside's armpits :)

Hey, hey, but let’s not exaggerate with the nonsense about average life spans being extended thanks to medicine and other equally meaningless chatter. The review talks about serious issues; raise your hand if you’ve ever heard the name cisplatin before: I have, because I slam my face into these books every day for years, and it’s true that besides being toxic, it is most likely also carcinogenic. And this applies not only to cisplatin but to thousands of drugs, many of which are used in chemotherapy. And again, how many deaths for statistics... If I think that people in my family have really been used and discarded like guinea pigs – thrown into the grave, like so many cancer victims between the '80s and '90s – to produce statistics, to carry out active experimentation, it makes me want to pick up a rifle.
The real problem lies at the root; an unsustainable and inhumane lifestyle was accepted at some point in the last century. The development of heavy industry, the production of energy in conventional ways, chemical and pharmaceutical industries, the necessities of intensive farming condition the lives of millions, even billions of people around the world, without them realizing it and without perceiving the imminent effects on their health. But the problem should be tackled at the root, which is above all social and economic, before it becomes one of hygiene or medicine. A paradigm shift is needed. Let’s focus our anger where it matters, where it has always mattered. It’s a completely different story to wait for miraculous cures that don’t exist, to fall into this chiropractor messianism that throws me off; the human body is not a perfect equation to say: okay, I’ve eaten garbage for ten years and I have pancreatic cancer, so I’ll cure myself with medicinal herbs and homeopathic medicine, and in a few months the cancer will dissolve and flow away. The tumor is not an aspirin, and physiology is not a sudoku – enough with the nonsense. Furthermore, research is slow and spans decades not because it’s fruitless, but because there are precautionary principles that, by force, end up extending experimentation by years. Do you know how long it takes to say that protein X leads to the mortality of cancer cells, or to identify the activating or promoting agent Y, etc...? Do you even know how many tests, how much money? Do you know that for years now, due to cuts in funding for research, researchers and laboratory assistants are forced to waste time making cell cultures instead of buying them pre-made, because the funds have run out? And how much time is wasted on things like that... Three experiments a week, even twelve hours of lab work multiplied by five or six years just to manage to publish results that, best case scenario, will be incorporated into the context of other publications in ten years. But best case scenario.

I'll add it to the list.

"Here it seems like someone has styled him... and styling Johnny is like ironing clothes for Tom Waits or forcing Lemmy to wash himself. It's just not done, period." I remember seeing a PIL live where Lydon was clean, styled, and well-dressed; he looked like a wedding witness :) You confirm the best of this period, great as usual.

Ah, is that the cover of an album then? I thought it was a passport.

I like the review; it has the merit of addressing something that terrifies the modern man, a simpleton and a gassbag. I can say that I am "in the field," and I assure you that behavioral and environmental factors are taken very seriously by studies; in fact, the impact of these factors is one of the foundational certainties of environmental hygiene, trust me. And if what you say in the first part is true, very true, exceedingly true (and I disagree with the commenter above regarding conspiracies, which I believe do exist), I must say that I do not entirely agree with the assessment of the "alternative therapies" of Di Bella & Co., which have created the perfect confusion in public opinion to conceal what is an objective fact and scientifically recognized, often demonstrated by specialists truly with the sweat of their brow and decades of hard work. No one should be convinced that they can cure tumors with Bach flowers because it simply doesn't work. Just as there are businesses of fear, there are businesses of hope and illusion.

Here, having to leave a serious comment on the page, and preemptively noting that I’m not a reviewer but just a regular visitor of Debaser, I usually prefer not to take a blunt approach towards those who write for fun and pleasure. I think Debaser was born and has developed over the years as a tool to share music, cinema, books, and games in a way that differs from the methods used on this and other pages. The cold suggests that the only way to approach absolute masterpieces is to write in a schoolish manner: but why put ourselves through such violence, I wonder? It seems there’s this devotion to the cause in the need to bulk up the Debaser database with everything deemed noteworthy by humankind. I truly wonder what drives someone to feel the obligation to write something like this about Dante. Beyond the expressed or unexpressed content from TheWalrus, isn't it better—given the magnitude of the subject—to write about another work that one considers significant and connect it back to the Divine Comedy within their writing? I don't know if I’m making myself clear. At least one ends up saying something, instead of these meaningless lines, perhaps even prompting the reader to refresh their reading of the Inferno, which, as the good casamorta (the so-called "Three-Quarter Man," we glorify you, oh Three-Quarter Man) says, never hurts.