puntiniCAZpuntini

DeRank : 14,42 • DeAge™ : 7887 days

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  • Here since 21 october 2003
Voto:
<< it cannot be classified into any well-defined genre, >> This? Okay, the last three, one could say they're particular... but this one not only has a well-defined genre, it also has a reference band: Electric Wizard. Then I can understand when they say "but I didn't even know them," and I'm good with that, but this album is a precise, exact copy... of Electric Wizard. One hundred percent, you can't help but mention Electric Wizard ten times when talking about this EP.
Voto:
They also wrote it in an AL of the time, in the first issue that resembled a real newspaper (I think it was number seven). Gruff only did the scratches, and of course a couple of raps. Also, Ringo Starr was a member of the Beatles, but that doesn't mean he counted for much in the group.
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You are... you are... cruel, that’s what you are. You have no right to hit me so tenderly. Reminding me of that carnival of crazy love, of kisses under the swing ride, of long walks by the chemical toilets... that’s not fair. PS I liked Donatello... mmhhh... with that stick, who knows what he was doing...
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Today I put them back on (first day of spring, here), and both the one from the DeLorean and << fricchettoni senza appello e con le mani legate, condannati a sospingere in cerchio enormi balle di marijuana solo col petto. In eterno... >> came to mind. One of the most magnificent "things" ever written up here.
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I've already stopped considering you my little online buddy. Now I'm removing your naked photo from my desktop and replacing it with one of Yosif with two terabytes of Californian melopunk (remixed RnB by Estelle) covering his privates. What a disappointment.
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Wait, though, you didn't answer me: did you mess with Stefan? It's a duty of every man.
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Oh, because if I hadn’t said anything and you actually did it, just imagine how much I would have laughed while driving by in the off-road vehicle and seeing 4 Milanese idiots swearing and drinking warm beer in shorts! I ruined my own laughter, I saved your vacation for you. Check the place on Google Earth, search for "bugerru," and then move along the coast. You’ll see just one color for a few kilometers: sandy yellow.
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I don’t like it. You’ve written a very precise text full of details, references to chapters, dates, explanations of a thousand kinds... about a book that gives you no explanations, it throws everything at you and you take from it what you want. Very nice overall, but it doesn’t match the style of the subject at hand. Anyway, congratulations on the choice, I would have liked to do it myself.
Voto:
I was thinking of renting a camper for the dunajam: we could set sail from Livorno or Lazio (so Mich can come too), take the ferry on cargo ships that cost less, and save money on hotels. In the afternoon, we’d chill on the beach watching the sunbathers’ boobs like when we were young, and in the evening, it’s beer and rock'n'roll until dawn, always in flip-flops and baggy shorts. Yesss! You have no idea about the place; it’s the only sandy desert in Europe. No sunbathers (it’s May, Sardinians are born in June), no kiosks, no beer, no shade. There’s only one hotel planted in the middle of the desert, and it’s fully booked. I’m heading down Friday night, Saturday morning I’ll sleep on the beach, see the live show Saturday night, then Sunday morning I’ll crash at a friend's in Cagliari (which isn’t close) and head back in the afternoon. Staying there for more than two days and not in a hotel is suicide. And trust me, you won’t get a camper there in May; the little ancient asphalt will be buried under sand blown around by the winter winds, they only clean it up in June making it somewhat passable. Unless you have a camper converted from an Hummer H1, then yes. A car and flat stones in the trunk to put under the wheels after getting stuck in the sand, that's the only possible kit.
Voto:
I told you that they were much, much, much better live. Because you can feel Mani and see him face to face. If you didn’t carry on my crusade by telling Stefan to crank up the volume of the drums even on the CDs, then I’ll delete you from my imaginary friends list. Immediately. I always tell him (in my life, I’ve seen seven concerts, four of them were theirs), I could only do it once in Cagliari because I didn’t want to further disturb my already worn-out companion, but in Bugerru in May, I’ll annoy him both Friday and Saturday. He needs to understand, his damn guitar is really getting on my nerves. Seriously.