There are days that you are tired of the national conversation, the talk of the guests to sit in the parlor of the communication to the public, paid for it, what for? Educated, pedagogizzarti, instruct, tell you how he thinks the majority of common sense and pure-of-mind, so you can bring your opinion to that declaimed in tones no appeal from the certification of political correctness, the rationalists, the realists, the purpose gggente knowledgeable of and how does the gggente out there. There are days when you are bored with the show as a sea-sick, like a cake with exaggeration, and you do not get more complicated to pretend that the flea circus of a show it is spectacular. No more even want to make the effort to respond, to bring the dialogue on the rails and profit if not interesting, at least credible, and then turn the channel, do you shrug, you devote to your hobby that you'll be looking forward to the well-being from ' ignore the din of filthy scrofulous and ravanare in troubled waters, the piece of intellectual and maître à penser a restaurant, but number five.
The flag and the national anthem, the crucifix on the walls, page after page of talking with the sociologist, who for years every Monday from magazine shoots for teens merry platitudes about love and its derivatives, then there's the same old decrepit we propina its obsolete considerations, and holy cards of newspeak worthy of respect, kiss-cards by which to turn to for clarification on the prospects for social and victimization on the chessboard in the Middle East, they face surprise or incattivita typical of old, that expression of the acid or saccharine you hope never find on your face looking in the mirror, yet there are those who treat them like family whose picture is on the mantelpiece next to the presenter who was on TV for decades and we want more good than uncles that we see only at Christmas, and we would like to attract to the dashboard to remind to go slowly, consumers of my shit I love you slowly go and buy a newspaper, turn on the TV, continues to buy the products advertised. There are days that you feel like hear a voice come from heaven, and tell everyone, one by one, tell us what we are really ear, tell gigione behold, verily I say to you that you are a gigione, chissachì and tell him you think you here . The faces of the people, there is also a picture to capture the faces in the given time.
The other I saw a sign on the news, a sign hanging in a shop window, it said 'Closed for pain in the ass' and I thought that merchant is a genius, I thought as I understand, it appears. It would take a key such as Facebook only instead of 'I like' say 'pain in the ass' so when I read the part of invective and conspiracy theory, alarms unjustified and calls for calm, the reasons for the neurotic and insinuations are screaming to click 'pain in the ass' and a voice thank you for having expressed a level of appreciation, and dealing with a mechanical hand to write a note on my taste in the records of great computer world to choose who should know what I broke the balls and what seems intelligent, so I dished up the slop and is not obliged to wind it to stay afloat in a morass of nonsense articles and broadcasts headless I want to sender with bounce Happy birthday to be catapulted into worlds far away, no tangent, which also vanishes the memory of the media bombardment that destroyed the few remaining neurons in the heritage of intelligence human. There are days when we hang that sign there, and allows the brain to get back together as much as possible.
The endless arguments over everything, the benaltrismo, indignation, disqualification, to step back, to resign if the Pope, who once again have not elected a black pope, some people took it as a racist decision The Pope opens mouth headlines say that the Vatican explodes in anger, the Church declares war, what? Ideas, as if practiced against the denial of the dinosaurs or the funeral refused to stupid. Until yesterday, the Church was also a fascist, not today, depends on the wind and the electoral conveniences, like the League, yesterday was stupid racist xenophobic splinter you come today with us to govern together. And the picture, if you subscribe to an electronic version of the daily paper I'll show you exclusive pictures of the stolen girls disguised as a policeman, a nurse, and call them prostitutes and filth but did say that has not been established, the maximum then just a disclaimer, a twenty-eight pages, in small, in the corner. The nuclear, nuclear energy no. The referendum, events. What a skylight that is balls' is Italy. Do you realize that you're watching a movie, these professionals are given the five Pirlo under the table while speaking on behalf of all of those all but a small part, idiots and gullible included, recognize what they say, are well formulated, pseudoragionamenti proposed. There are days like today that one turns there, does not accept the logic of their team together, get ahead of the acids in the stomach, feeling of watching friends and saying and doing the same things, dressed alike, think alike . In place of the rosette nationalist we all have a shirt that says 'closed for pain in the ass' and stop buying newspapers, advertised products, go to the polls, watch tv, leave them to wallow in their own m
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