Dislocation

DeRank : 22,33 • DeAge™ : 3005 days

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In guilty yet innocent delay, I read, I nod, and I vote.
5/5
Blues, Peace, and prosperity.
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Amendment to the review: «La consecutio... (2)». See the old version From Here to Eternity - Giorgio Moroder - recensione Versione 2
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Modification to the review: "La consecutio...". See the old version From Here to Eternity - Giorgio Moroder - recensione Versione 1
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Everything is very beautiful.
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It’s our story, prof.
Where I am, obviously, the vitreous hippocampus and you, clearly, the c..., the ci... Guess!
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Do we want to do something to stop the treacherous @[withor] or must we really wait for a worse outcome that, in truth, never ends?
Let us then, come on, increasingly form Anti Withor Brigades, aimed at repressing his musical tastes and consequently putting him under arrest.
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Peace to their souls, of Plank and Jaki, who is NOT the best drummer in the world, a title that (excluding jazz) in Rock goes to John Bonham, and in its "beyond" branches goes to Bill Bruford, Ian Paice, Gavin Harrison, Carl Palmer, Stewart Copeland, and, Master and Commander, to Ringo Starr. Out with the knives, now.
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Ah, so now we're here competing, ranking? And it has been decided that the twenty-year period is a bit less grave than the foibe?
I read the book, as I read the previous one mentioned by @[lector], the author seems worthy of respect for clarity and, I believe, purity of intent.
If the review of the work aimed to be an apology and appreciation, our new (?) user has achieved the intended goal, but they did it poorly, even if they wanted to be one of the many who periodically try to introduce such topics to provoke that straw fire I mentioned earlier, soon extinguished, I hope, by the general indifference of the bystanders.
So, what do we do? Do we talk about foibe and the Dalmatian-Istrian exodus without mentioning at all the appropriation by the Italofascist regime of Slovenia and other charming Balkan sites along with the accompanying horrors of military occupation, fires, mass shootings, and the whole range of atrocities that happen wherever and whenever this occurs?
Let's do it, but if it weren't for the tears, we might as well laugh.
And there’s nothing to laugh about.
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Well, personally I've never appreciated the Gallinaccio Senese; it has always smelled fake to me, like a six-euro coin, the princessdaughteroftherichestkingdom wandering around the world, for heaven's sake, not even going behind the bridges to cut herself, but whatever.
The voice, come on, a divine punishment. A (???) braying song that would dishonor the fishmongers of old, with all due respect to the aforementioned fish workers who work like crazy.
The repertoire, well, an obnoxious lament with a fake guitar and distortion, always leather jacket, pissed-off glare of those who’ve seen too much, I know all the truths, I made a son, I did it for beautiful...
Enough, enough, for heaven's sake.
And then, come on, what kind of a trend is it to make tribute films about artists (a poorly indicative term for the subject at hand...) still alive and kicking? Isn’t the old, unquestionable apotropaic gesture no longer valid among them?
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Congrats, you old skin!