Italy is a republic, and we like it that way.

miei cari, today I have been staying at home, reading, watching a movie, listening to music and reading newspapers on internet. Too bad I am not a man otherwise I would have also scratched my balls.
While I was reading the newspapers I found out that our so-called king and his semi-demented son have sued the Italian state for something like 250 million euros because in 1946 we made a law forbidding them to come back to Italy. The law was (unfortunately) abolished some years ago, and now they claim that they were phsicologically damaged by the exile. By the way they talk you might think that the poor guys were living for some 50 years under a bridge, having to sell rosted chestnuts and/or ass to pay the rent. Well, actually the truth is that they were living in Switzerland, full of money. You may wonder: where did the money come from? Well, during the second world war, when the Nazis were getting into Roma after conquering the north of Italy and slaughtering people all over, our brave, noble and especially tall king Vittorio Emanuele III (the grandfather of today's idiot) decided to flee from Roma to Brindisi, give himself in to the Allies (which were Italy's enemies up to 2 minutes before), taking everything he could get his hands on on the way and leaving the army without orders and the population to the Nazis. Obviously, being very responsible and brave, it took him 5 days to communicate to his people that, ops, ehm, you remember the Germans? Like the allies we had? Well, ehm, you know, they sort of are not our allies any more... I mean, ehm, no bad feelings, but these American and British chaps look sort of friendlier, and, well, not that we liked wurst too much, to be very honest. And since he was very brave, on top of being very tall, he sent the marshal Badoglio to tell us, perhaps he was too busy having a manicure. Needless to say, the Nazis got slightly pissed and massacred us, i.e. the poor idiots that were not part of the fucking royal family and had no connection to escape. It took us 2 years and some more thousands of people killed and cities destroyed to manage to get out of the war, with a country that had been half demolished, economy in ruins and every family with someone missing (especially in the North). After that, our noble, brave - and did I mention tall? - King figured that he wasn't exactly popular so he tried to bullshit us by putting his son as King. After that, in 1946 we made a referendum, became a republic and managed to kick the bastards out of the country. Enough? No. You might wonder: why the hell you guys went into war to start with? Well, in the 20 years before we had this fancy little dictatorship called fascism, headed by the guy that Gadda, Italy's best writer, rightly called "Mascellone" (big jaw, to compensate for the small brain), i.e. Mussolini. And, you might wonder again: and who the hell allowed Mascellone to get the power? You guessed right: our noble, brave and especially tall King Vittorio Emanuele III. The fucker not only did not send the army when Mascellone made the march on Roma, but also gave him government. And when Mascellone's guys killed Matteotti, a socialist MP, do you think our noble, brave and especially tall King kicked Macellone in the ass and threw him out of the window? No. Even because, being so tall, probably he could have just perhaps managed to give Mascellone a blow job, certainly not a kick in the ass. And, let's see if you guess right, who did NOT oppose Mascellone's racial laws against jews? Yes, our fantastic King. So that all of sudden the Jews, which were nicely integrated, were thrown out of their business and after some time they also started getting deported - at least the ones that we didn't manage to hide, because, for fuck's sake, if our neighbours are nice people, they can be Jew, Catholic, Buddhist and also aliens, but we don't give them to the Nazi because Mascellone decided that we should become Hitler's inflatable dolls-. And then our King decided that being King was not enough; no, he had to become Emperor. So we went and conquered Albania and Ethiopia. And since the Ethiopians for some strange reason did not really wish to become part of the Italian Empire, our noble King allowed our army to go and gas/burn the guys, women and kids included. OK, you say, but why should you punish the sons of the mistakes of the father? Right, his son and the heirs have no fault if the King was an idiot. So, theoretically, it was right that we let them come back in Italy. The only point there is that idiocy seems to be part of the genes of the Savoy family. The so-called King of Italy, Vittorio Emanuele "Prince of Naples", the guy that is asking for the money, was the guy that in the 70s was getting bored on his yatch (again proving how horrible was the "exile") that he decided to get his rifle and start shooting randomly. Too bad that he shot a 17-year old kid. Then some time after he made comments about the racial laws his granddad did not oppose during fascism, saying that, at the end of the day, they were not "that bad". And after having allowed him back in Italy, after not even 4 years he got thrown in jail because for corruption, prostitution and I don't know what else. And in jail, not knowing that he was being tapped, started saying that he had bullshitted the French judges that had convicted him for the murder to the 17-year old kid. So my point is: do we really need more idiots in Italy?
So, there are 2 things we could do:
1) ship them to Switzerland, close them up in their villa in Geneva and make a lake out of the country.
2) every Italian that was in any way damaged by the Savoy family should sue them back for 250 millions. You want to get greedy? We can be much much worse.

on the road

miei cari, as of tomorrow I start another of my usual wanderings. So tomorrow morning I will have to wake up at 4:30 (which probably means that I should be in bed now and not in front of a computer) and I will fly to Milano. The best thing is that I am going for work, which is pretty much amusing. Saturday morning I will go to the plant, then my dad comes to pick me up and we rush to the airport to go back to Frankfurt. I wanted to stay until Sunday, but there is the Thanksgiving party at the Seidels' and I have already missed it 2 years. Then Sunday big washing day and on Monday I take my little Jean Jacques, drive to Euskirchen and then from there to Brussels. Then on Friday I will leave to go to Antwerp to visit our Preeti in her new flat. And she promised me that she will cook some chicken biryani... tassssssttttyyyyyyy:-) After that I assume I will be back in Frankfurt, even though never say never.
Other news: last weekend OSte was here in Frankfurt visiting. We didn't do a lot, apart from going around, getting very drunk (me at least) at Yara's party, then going to the museum of modern art and then to the Ethiopian restaurant, where OSte fell in love with the waitress. And then we got Jean Jacques from the dark corner where we had left him all alone for 1 day and we rushed to the airport because OSte has this theory that you need to be at the airport 1 before the flight for domestic flights, 1.5 hours for international flights and 2.5 hours for trips to the US. Weird. So obviously he was super early and he had to enjoy the nice service of the German duty free while he could have arranged a marriage with the waitress instead. Shame on him:-)
Other news is that in the last 2 months I was told that 2 guys that I thought were good looking are actually gay. Obviously I started freaking out. Now there are 2 other guys that are tasty and I am just waiting for the moment when they introduce me to their boyfriends... In simple words, I am going paranoid.
OK, now I really need to go to bed otherwise tomorrow I will look as if a truck has run over me. Which is nothing unusual, but unfortunately it triggers all sort of questions from my mum which I am not too willing to answer.
ciaociao

I'm back - and on facebook

miei cari, after a sequence of small little shitty posts I am back and writing - even because I went to the "Mexican" restaurant with Jasmina and the freaking spinach is coming up and down from my stomach.
I joined facebook, since everyone is on it anyway. They have all sort of weird thingies you can add. Let's see how long it takes before it becomes boring like everything else. One of these applications you can add is called bookshelf, or something like that: basically you go on amazon and search for a book you read or you would like to read. When Carletto sent it to me I thought it was great. Then I found out that most of the books I read are way too weird for amazon to list, so I added around 40 before getting bored. Now, since I have my old little beloved blog, I can write here about what I have recently read. This week I read 2 books, one about food and one about wine. The food one is called "cuochi si diventa" ("you can become cooks", meaning that you don't have to be born with the gift) from this guy called Allan Bay, who, despite the name, should be Italian. It is a book about what to cook and how to do it. Some things are interesting, like a veal stew that I will probably cook - even because now I can start cooking nice heavy food, it's getting cold like shit in this country. He also has some nice tips on the soffritto (the cooked onions + other vegetables, sometimes, that you use as base for the food), about taking the alcohol out of the wine before cooking with it and about broth. Some of the dishes, however, sounded slightly shitty, especially the sort of "Indian" ones he proposes. Let's see. The book about wine is called "Elogio dell'invecchiamento". It is interesting, especially when he describes what you learn in the sommelier school in Italy and how some people can really look like idiots when they start tasting wine (I assume everyone has the friend that believes that if you don't throw everything into a decanter and then don't sip from your glass as if you were a cow, sound included, you are an ignorant). He also describes some wines, some of which I have never tasted, some of which, given the description, I think I won't be that eager to taste anyway. Net, the topic and themes of the 2 books are interesting. Unfortunately, they are written with the ass - expression from my dad that means that they are written pretty poorly. I find it strange that noone could check them before; sometimes the sentences are embarassing for how badly written they are.
Now I started reading "... ma l'amor mio non muore" (... but my love doesn't die), a book about "origins, strategies, documents of the 'alternative' culture and of the 'underground' in Italy". Basically something that amazon doesn't have for suuuuuuuuure. Some parts are really interesting. Some parts I cannot even understand: "la tendenza gauchista a fondare una teoria scientifica e legittima dell'apirazione del proletariato alla vita non c'interessa. Il tema della decolonizzazione e' gia' discorso sulla illegittimita' della carcerizzazione" - "we are not interested in the gauchist tendency to build a scientific and legitimate theory about the dreams of the proletariat. The theme of the decolonization is already a discussion on the illegitimacy of jailing" (could be that some of these words don't even exist in English; I have some doubts that they actually exist in Italian to start with). I find it interesting to read books written in the 60s and 70s, their Italian is the most convoluted shit you can get your hands on. Or, if you want to see it from their point of view, probably we are becoming so ignorant that we cannot understand a sentence that is more complicated of "Fini ancora papa': la findanzata 35enne è incinta" ("Fini - a politician - to become dad again: the 35 years old girlfriend pregnant again"). Probably, as usual, truth is somewhere in between.

Trier is nice

miei cari, I am right now at home with my parents visiting. Yesterday we went to Trier, very nice town, with an historical center, all sort of nice shops and very cute buildings. If they have a Xmas market we should go there, much better than Frankfurt. All for now. ciaociao