puntiniCAZpuntini

Mauro, haven’t they taught you the first rule of the fighter in boxing? Do you know what it is? "Never challenge someone you don’t know." I know you’re a fool because if you weren't, by now I would already have your address, your phone number, and even your tax ID. Unfortunately, I know violent people well, and they can’t believe their luck when they find an idiot willing to challenge them (including me)... you're just a poor lost child, that's all. But I insist because maybe you'll bring your friends, so I can tie you all up in a circle and defecate in the middle, leaving you there for two days to smell my gentle stench, you idiot. I really will do it, you know. You're still stuck in punches and kicks; there are legal consequences for these things, you know? Meanwhile, try to report me because I took a photo of you naked with an apple in your mouth, then let’s see at trial when the photos are presented in court... how good you’ll feel, you moron. Oh, Flinstones, we’re in the 2000s now. Come on, Mauro, come on... make me laugh, give me the chance to get to know you.

Come on Mauro, come on... at least sign up, so I can write to you. This is a possibility, right? You sign up, so I know where to contact you. When I come to Rome, I’ll tell you “I’ll be in such-and-such place at such-and-such time”, and then if you want to come, great, if not, oh well, it’s not like I’m going to go to the area just for you. Bring all the friends you want, absolutely no problem. Come on, you idiot... don’t you feel like playing? Come on... why did you bother going to the gym if you’re not gonna put it into practice?

Yes, but it’s pointless for you to insist. I CAN'T COME ON SATURDAY, BUT I WANT TO SEE YOU as soon as I'm in Rome. Damn, I'm not joking Mauro, I’m serious. I understand you might think I'm bluffing behind the computer, but I swear on my mother, my father, and my brother that I’m not joking. I want to photograph you naked with an apple in your mouth, piglet.

Come on, imagine your mother's face when she opens an envelope and there are photos of you at a 90-degree angle with a stick up your ass and "DUX" written in shaving foam on your fucking forehead. Come on, feel the thrill of fighting someone serious, not the little punks you talk about. Aren't you tired of easy wins? Come on... give me a contact, think how cool it would be... come on Mauro, I’ll make all my friends laugh for a few months... I’ll put you in a framed picture in my room, you’ll become famous Mauro.

Woof... woof. Let me explain again: oh poor idiot, I can't come on Saturday, okay? BUT I have to go to Rome in a couple of months, alright? When I go up, I want to meet you, okay? So, if you could tell me where the hell I can contact you outside of this review, that would be good. What do they care about you & me? Want to show off so strong and untamed? Then why do you need a crowd of spectators? Come on, now I'm starting to get serious, give me a contact so we can meet, I’m too curious to see you, and I’m also anxious to photograph you hanging from a gate, tied up with a Lazio scarf, the only piece of clothing a picture of the Duce slapped on your forehead. I won’t meet you in the city, I don’t want to hit you, I’ll just immobilize you and photograph you naked, and then I’ll publish the photos online, and I’m not joking, idiot... how much do we bet that on Lazio.It you’ll be the fan of the month? How much do we bet that as a deep dive on Burzum on de-baser it will be you with the shriveled little dick from the cold of the Roman countryside? Bruises go away, but screw-ups don't. I won’t hit you too hard, just enough to immobilize you and take some nice photos of you, and I’m not joking, idiot, wanna bet? You wouldn’t be the first or the last; I’m tired of hitting, it’s too easy and not artistic enough. I want to humiliate you to the limits of possibility. You know how cool it is when I take your ID from your wallet, write down your address, and send the photos to your mother? Come on, idiot, let’s play for real, contact me and maybe we can even bet some money, that way I can pay for my trip with your expenses. I repeat, idiot, I'm not joking at all, I’m very serious.

Well, then the Vanzina Brothers are a huge part of the history of Italian cinema :)). We have a different view of rock history, mine is very narrow, and yours is much broader. Let's do this, take 10 bands, no more than that, to put in the history of rock, can you place the Nirvazzi? :D I meant that, anyway I understand you and I agree, at first not only because I had a more focused view of the matter, taking it quite generously (very :D) I agree :)

A serious group that found Tarantuzzo is Titu(forse con la O) & Tarantola, those of "dal tramonto al trainbianco," they are cool, two or three albums can almost always be found online. It may not be an incredible thing, but for being "Mexican folk" it's pretty good, you can't really expect much more :D

Has a shoulder ever slipped out of place for you? Come on... if you still haven't experienced it, you have a unique opportunity to try it out on offer, don't let it slip away, grab on the fly what Gisas Craist is sending you attached to an unparalleled stroke of luck... come on, carpe diem mauretto, the stars... are smiling at you. (in fact, they're having quite a good laugh, you know the good laugh, right?)

Bark, bark, bark... bark. Phone numbers? Addresses out of town? Appointments? A concrete invitation to discuss? For goodness' sake... at least an email? What? ah here you are bum bum:... bark, bark... bark. Wait wait... how how? ah... no, that was another bark. And I notice you're also stupid, you keep talking about breaking faces, about little broken noses, about haia haia aka "oh that hurts"... you really have no idea what I mean, well, good for you that you're steering the conversation away, some things are always better seen in movies and read in the viùùùlenzha books you read after school, before cartoons. Come on, now you really intrigue me, if you’re real like you say there must be an interstellar appeal in seeing your face. Come on, give me your email come on... at least the email, how can you possibly think in your desolate little head that I would travel 1200 km to get there and maybe (maybe huh, not sure) you won’t even be there. Look, I’m serious, come on bark bark, send me an email, then we'll figure out the user profile at Debaser's expense, for the photo we can recycle that one from the physiotherapy membership... aaahhh (sigh à la "good old days", I guess I have to explain everything to you), the good times of swollen faces and broken noses, those were indeed easier times, now the world is so mean and cruel... lucky you that you’re still stuck on blood from little noses... ahhh (another sigh as above NDR)

Well... it depends, Nick: if you’re going for a serious date, bring a friend and dress up as porters ;)