Stories and News

Stories and News No. 836 Tomorrow, Saturday Jan. 30, in Rome there will be the Family Day manifestation. I remember when Silvio Berlusconi was there… it was funny. Maybe, even after an ocean of scandals, he will join the cause. Anyway, I want still give my contribution to the war against the foul, rainbow dressed enemy… Why homosexuals should not win? ( Read to the end... ) * Because homosexuals already have the right to live together, and are eligible for membership of most local authorities. Parliament, however, has to deal mainly with the administration of a vast nation, the maintenance of the Army and Navy, and with questions of peace and war, which lie outside the legitimate sphere of homosexuals ' influence. Because all government rests ultimately on force, to which homosexuals , owing to physical, moral and social reasons, are not capable of contributing. Because there is little doubt that the vast majority of homosexuals have no desire for the wedding

Stories and News No. 835 I read that tonight there will be a meeting in Milan, Italy, of the political group ENF ( Europe of Nations and Freedom ) led by Matteo Salvini . There will be, among others right-wing leaders, Marine Le Pen . Matteo Salvini and Marine Le Pen. Matteo Salvini wanted to be Marine Le Pen. And Marine Le Pen wanted to be her father. However, Salvini and Le Pen, in the world’s tale, have always been the same person. O character... Once upon a time there was he , or she , as you like. No matter the genre and all its diversities, because the story must slide smoothly and, above all, be popular. There is no room, therefore, for social and moral complications. So, let the story be. Take Little Red Riding Hood and he comes in and starts to knock on every door and everyone is out, also the mother of the girl child before going to her sick old grandma waiting in the woods. "Enough of the wolves," he shouts. And so other slogans, all in their woods ,

Stories and News No. 834 The nude statues of the Capitoline Museums in Rome, Italy have been covered so as not to offend the Iranian president. Tell me if there is better metaphor for the modern paradox around beauty and all its diversities... Once upon a time there was the hiding land. The nude statues, of course, but it is not just a casual event. So, no one will be entitled to buckle their chest, filling it with false pride to seize yet another opportunity to reject the usual patriotic refrain. The blanket of fools alarms and anachronistic follies is wide. Too wide. Otherwise, we would not talk about the hiding land, but the land that once hid, but then it understood. Fortunately for all, the land understood and it went on, inside present, even before future. The hiding land works with daily obstinacy. It hides normal desires of wonderful creatures and wonderful dreams of normal beings with the same nonchalance. It hides entire chapters of its past history, but not co

Stories and News No. 833 A new planet was discovered on the end of the solar system... Once upon a time there was her . Or he . Call them , too. Call them what you like, so this is granted and, rarely, actually blamed. Because it happens again, again, and again. Call us , this time. With the eyes that look farther, necessarily. Think about it, really. Who could look at the very antipodes of today better than those who bet on that mirage their present time, their souls and the last wishes? The good news is that we give up, once and for all. The war is over, because the enemy is gone. Civilian casualties will finish the count of their own. And an empty space will widen on the spewing press. Just a few seconds, all right, because while the trendy goat dies, you will quickly find another one to crucify. Nevertheless, it does not concern us anymore. So, good luck to the next. Indeed, take everything. The earth is yours. What you screamed like yours, and also the one that

Stories and News No. 832 I read that in Middlesbrough, England, they had the questionable idea to distinguish the homes of refugees from the "normal" neighbors by painting red entrance doors . With the risk, among other things, that the houses will become an easier target of racist attacks... I am Baseema . I am seven years old and my name has a precious meaning. It means smiling . Now, there is smile and smile. My father says that mine’s value is double. Because I smiles before and even after having discovered the real sense of things. For example, take this red door’s thing. When I saw it the first time I smile, really. What am I saying? I heartily laughed, as when you eat something good. That is, when you eat something. Big . A red door? And we are the only ones to have it? Why? I asked my mother while she mended. My mother does nothing but mend the few rags we call clothes, where holes are ever much more than the rest. That is the story of our lives,

Stories and News No. 831 Clash of the coaches in Italy during the last minutes of the football match between Napoli and Inter yesterday night. Mancini accuses Sarri of calling him f****o (a very offensive term to say homosexual), while the latter said he after apologized to him... Let's assume that. Let's assume, on the contrary, from another angle, in short, from where you want to watch the whole thing, that the slur and all its synonyms is replaced with the word male . And let’s imagine that we also live in a world where males are the alleged dangerous species. Imagine being males in that same planet. Although being described as a male , in all possible worlds, at the end of the games does not mean anything. Nevertheless, follow me. Imagine finding yourself, since the day you have recognized the male expression as the best approximation of what represents your gender identity, seeing the latter associated to every kind of aberration, mockery, disease and shame.

Stories and News No. 830 I read that a sixteen years old boy, identified as Ali, has died of starvation in the city of Madaya, Syria, under siege since July 2015, adding to the tens of deaths due to malnutrition denounced by the United Nations. This is his story… My name is Ali , I was born at the beginning of the third millennium and I am, was, sixteen years old. Forever. Equally, for every day to come, I will be Ali who won . I started to defeat enemies that would dwarf adults everywhere, even with voice amplified by "keyboard cockiness" and "couch arrogance", since I was just eleven. The war erupted, at that time, as usual. Synthesized and shredded on newspaper good for fish and chip without even waiting for the next day, crumbled and reassembled in images and videos whose only special effect is the convenient likelihood. Yet, the war exploded and then started to bite life with more or less blind fury even in my invisible existence. As usual. The

Stories and News No. 829 Once upon a time there was a house. Actually, no. A suitcase, if you prefer. Look, your choice. Imagine something that is able to contain. To welcome, indeed. Draw it as you wish, the stretch and the color inspiration do not matter. What really counts is that it is empty. Done? Fine, if we may say so. Now look. Do you see the child before you, beyond your authoritative desk? Ah ... is she a girl? It is the same, this time it is really the same without discussion. Because whatever you will define the young alive protagonist, the common thin is nothing. Because the house, the suitcase, everything you had figured able to contain, welcome, it is blank. An immeasurable absence, an uncomfortable obstacle to face even for the wildest fantasies, rightly fearful of yet another disappointment. Like a boa constrictor that just believes it had swallowed an elephant. The child in the house, the girl with the suitcase, the hairless creature with the evanesc

Stories and News No. 828 Dear Danish Government, I heard that you're starting to use the right to seize our goods in order to cover the costs . I did not really want to talk about rights. Especially mine. Maybe because I have forgotten what they are. Or, perhaps, because that is the best thing I remember. That's why I won’t complain. I will not raise my voice to put at risk every single moment that still awaits me. I will not oppose the umpteenth abuse. Because living another day and go on like this until there will be road is the true paradise. Hell is only one form of the latter you will give us, despite we already know how it is done. For this reason I'm here, now. Confiscate, confiscate as well, but you will not find any money because my parents used it to buy time for me. All you can roll out ahead like a red carpet, even if blood colored. You won’t discovery any jewel of any value, in my mother’s case, because she exchanged it for an always open wi