Vdeio Incesti Italiani

Rapa Nui

The jump was long this time. Maybe too much. Four thousand miles in a straight line of the Ocean (WATER) landing on the only chance to guess the rock and lived within a radius of many kilometers. Rapa Nui.

Randomness: can not otherwise be revealed this navel of the earth in a clearly wrong. The same chance that was wrecked here a royal subjects with plants and birds in tow. The megalomaniac towering statues with their backs to the sea seem vain and desperate attempt to defeat this terrible possibilities, here so obvious, to find a reason, at least one direction, and finding in 166 square kilometers. But the space is too little and too loud to ignore Ocean mysterious questions as profound as life and fear.

Only fear can give the power to sculpt the mountains giant stone monoliths of tens of meters and hundreds of tons. Fear and the incredible survival instinct allowed to carry them along the coasts and to erect, with stones and sticks, as powerful protectors, desperate human response to the unknown. In concept, in reality, nothing new compared to the rest of the world. However, it remains the charm of a place so unique, wild and exquisitely human.

But what we know of the history of this land is very little, the fact that when they run out the spaces in America, the Creoles of children conquistadores have addressed the 'attention to Polynesia. The massacre was swift and humiliation continued officially until 1960, when Rapa Nui has ceased to be the courtyard of the Chilean army and its people (400 survivors) are now full citizens.

But we insist that the leap is too long, the gateway to Oceania, another people, another deep and fascinating culture, other massacres. If not quite another story, certainly another dimension. And in all honesty the matter is too much, we prefer to stay with her head between the Andes and from the heart to be crushed by these giant moai . the evening, imprisoned by the tropical rain and continues to play dice, making us realize that once again, roll to roll sooner or later a Yatze exit.

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Chile, Chili, Chiloe

Shaping the content, a task not always easy. But also give substance to form, it can often be a serious problem. We are facing a dual problem here in this country from Chile as absurd and incomprehensible content. Although a point has to leave, both aesthetic and informative.

Chileans are a people punished. Visi sober and clean, looks away, quietly and softly. Imbued with humility governed not seem capable of creative outpourings, despite the their hospitality almost grateful. The sixteen years of military dictatorship, the presence of Pinochet as the supreme head of the armed forces lasts until 1997 and a process of democratization is still made difficult by a militaristic constitution, they seem to be the case. Clear that a president like Allende and Neruda as an ambassador in Europe, spanning the '60s and '70s, were a considerable danger to the stability of the North American empire. Ome c sharp pitch still resonate today in the words of Henry Kissinger, then-undersecretary of state for president Nixon ( "I do not see why we should just sit in hand at the sight of a country that is becoming common because of the irresponsibility of its people "). Add to this, then the isolation geogr AFICO and understand why the Chileans now appear as forms of themselves.

But the young, the tradeoff here is Dante. Orde adolescent, musicians and poets who filled bars and public spaces, intellectuals and their emulators that analyze and beers problems, loose cannon personality that stain the streets and neighborhoods. This is the first generation fully freedom, the daughter of a generation of prisoners, which seems to exist a tacit agreement to ban the ban, a world at your disposal.

obvious, perhaps, the content, except that in this country exists only North and South as the sun sets in China.

(in order to understand this part, we recall that the following letters in the alphabet are pronounced the English way: ch = ci, ll = gl, que = that , here = who)

To reach the island of Chiloe you have to cross the Chacao channel arriving in the town, Chacao. The colectivo then proceed eastward, passing through Caulin and Ancud.

then descend to the south, leaving Quetalmahue and Pumillahue overlooking the Pacific. After the mysterious Manao, Linao Lliuco and finally arrived in Quemchi , where you can admire the island Caucahuè . Proceeding south you will touch the unnecessary Tenaùn but will open the doors of the pretty Dalcahue . From here, thanks to a bridge, you can roam almost freely on ' Isla Quinchao , group Chaulinec , and visit the capital Achao . But it certainly will not want to stop here, and then with another colectivo you travel to the eternal Chonchi . At this point, instead of going on the island Puqueidòn , you will turn to the east, where you can enjoy the fresh water lakes and Hullin Cucao . To complete the visit, and the tongue twister, you should touch the extreme south of the iso and admire the two towns and Queilen Quellón. For the more fearless, 's Isla Latécoère and Yatac Punta, where you can take a boat or Chacabuco Chaiten.

A final warning: do not get close to the lagoon or Chaiguata Caleta Quiutil . Lost souls seem to have been spotted by tourists dyslexic.

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America can not be understood apart from its mystical and magical side

La Negra not stand to have fingernails longer than a few millimeters. Every day before the fire, devotes half an hour of his time to file them with a piece of sandpaper and clean the sand mixed with silica that accumulates in the spaces left by the thin skin.

La Negra has seven children, five and two its not his. Each knows the story, the emotions and the shape of the scars that life has left him.

The sky is clear, it can be seen even through the glass dirty stuck in the mud wall that protects his room. It's cold, but there is still light and duende, mischievous imps, are still far away.

La Negra spends most of the day in bed, with his back against the wall and his hands busy to decorate cards and rectangles of fabric. His mind runs away as fast as her fingers ply thread and needle while his mother's heart is suffering, full of magic, the children away.

Sometimes a few words, bursts of speech, the reach, Penelope eternal, dragging it into reality. Then he gets up, approaches the fire, warming a mate herbal farming and realizes that it's already dark outside. It prepares for its meaning to ward off evil duende approaching the house. Alely, black dog, will help in this task, as faithful every night.

La Negra does not believe in magic, but it can cure evil with a jute thread. Baudelaire Rimbaud does not know either but it keeps the heat. Bears six silver rings at the hands of a somewhat 'opaque as the color of his eyes while bronze skin seems carved from the smoke that sucks almost constantly.

So back in bed, and she senses rounder as far as he insinuates in the difficult communication with the duende out there. No one knows if he sleeps, dreams or waking.

Negra Oh, oh American heart!

Angel of the nails long and dirty hands. The rest of the body looks clean although it is covered by a large and majestic blue poncho-Argentine. Appears out of nowhere, the dark blue spot in the garden where green-brown houses mo. Drag and drop a big bag full of hay, dinner for his fiery horse that lives in the same courtyard.

Angel has a gray beard and unkempt, a receptacle of some kind of spices, which around lips swollen and purple. The same approach that the horse's ear and began to whisper that perhaps words. Serrano, this is the name of 'animal , neighing and responds in a genuine dialogue hallucinatory. When the attention of the horse is captured entirely by the food, the Angel come to us.

It comes with a bow and an equally elegant movement brings out the endless folds of poncho a tambourine without bells. With the same elegance also appears a dark glass bottle and plain, from which two quaff burning gulps. A magic potion, he said, "Para el sentimiento enfocar" . At this point, accompanied with a pace and raw power, begins to sing his story.

Lost love, lost her son, found the horse and wagon and painted wooden covers. He then began the journey to his homeland, Argentina eternal, nine years in the moors, people, wine, ghosts, stories, elves, mountains, shepherds, tears and legends. The wide brim of his hat Coya vibrates in unison with his voice hoarse, shouted and unstable.

And so we know the tia Selva, the dog is so fat that is impregnated psychologically. The buxom women and maternal Mendoza. The spirits that protect the bay of Ushuaia. The saga of the large family Lorca, 18 children endowed with the most bizarre. And with its ability to singer, magician and illusionist we find ourselves protagonists of his poetry, and we look stunned and naked in his speech.

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Medieval Italian

Here is the letter written about two months ago from Brescia, Paolo Scaroni, the victim of a beating of madness by a department accelerated.

Ill.mo Interior Minister
President pc pc
Prime
pc Minister of Justice
pc Mayor of Brescia
pc Prefect of Brescia
pc Quaestor of Brescia
pc Mayor of Verona
pc newspapers TV and

am writing this letter on the eve of the anniversary of a date that has changed my life: 24 September 2005.
My name is Paolo Scaroni, Castenedolo live in a small town in the province of Brescia .
I was a breeder of bulls. I was a normal boy, with friends, a girl, passions, values-even healthy- sports and just curiosity. I was in fact a lot of sport and travel when I could. I was especially a big fan of Brescia.
A normal person, like many, would say Lei I no longer (for Brescia fan of the truth I was, although not can no longer live game at the stadium as I was wont to do: singing, jumping, enjoying or suffering ).
Everything changed on September 24, 2005, in the Porta Nuova train station in Verona.
That day, the equivalent of thousands of fans from Brescia, including many families and children -I decided to follow the Lioness in Verona with the best intentions, for what promises a crucial challenge for our Serie B. After the game, we were escorted to the police station without any hitch or tension. After I went to the bar below the station, I was returning very serenity to the train reserved for us fans by bringing water to the rest of the company (it was a very hot day and we were almost all dried). All other fans were ready to make the cars faster return to Brescia. Lacked few minutes and platforms of the station was completely deserted. What rather strange given the period, the time and especially the city where we were, nerve center for the passage of trains.
Suddenly, without warning or apparent reason, I was overwhelmed by a charge of "lightening" of the department on duty that day for rapid maintain public order and beaten to death, without even the possibility of shelter. Taken from the beating by his friends (themselves affected by the fury of batons), I went into a coma within a very short and almost died.
After about twenty minutes from having lost consciousness, I was loaded onto an ambulance -opposed, more or less covertly, by the same department that I had -attacked and taken to hospital in Borgo Trento, Verona. There have been operated emergency. There have been saved. There I got back from a coma after several weeks. There I spent a few months of my new life. A life of hell.
Meanwhile, my family, in a state of mind that hard to imagine, was under pressure and threats that my story maintained a low profile.
My friends did not go any better, despite all efforts to bring out the truth . Obviously, some things I have mentioned above sapute long after my aggression. The rest I discovered thanks to my lawyer.
From the findings of fact and through many witnesses, a picture emerges disturbing, almost beyond belief, but for this to be made public. Following serious injuries at the public prosecutor of Verona started proceedings against policemen and officials identified as authors of the injuries suffered by me. Although the Judge for Preliminary Investigations
has twice rejected the request for storage, Public Ministry has not yet exercised the prosecution against the suspects.
I wonder why this happens and why I have denied justice.
Today, after losing almost everything, I remain so pending a trial, not so obvious, given the background and attempts to discredit me. Besides the police were all masked, and are not identifiable (as this possible?), Although there was a person to command them recognizable. After so many lies and malice outputs so instrumental in my account as a result of the story, I look above is the dignity returned.
Ill.mo Interior Ministry, though my story has not attracted the same sensation, reminiscent ' The tragedies of Gabriele Sandri, Carlo Giuliani, and in particular Federico Aldrovandi (happened a few hours away from mine), with a small, big difference: I still my story I can tell, despite everything.
(We would like to add the murder of homeless Giuseppe Turrisi on 09/06/2008 and the last, that of Stefano Cucchi)
The dynamics of the events mentioned above may not be identical, but the will of kill yes, it was the same. Otherwise, it explains the persistence of these people to me, especially considering that there was a real danger it was all quiet, I fell to the ground, I was completely helpless . But the beatings, as described by the medical report, there were more stops.
Perhaps, I thought, than the life they wanted to take away the soul.
In short, in a few seconds I lost almost everything they had lived for- that I feel every day closer to Frederick, and for no apparent reason. always obvious that there is a justification to unleash such cruelty and efficiency.
My physical functions have been reduced significantly, and despite the long that I undergo rehabilitation for years with great tenacity will not have much room for improvement . I know almost for sure: the only thing that works as first in my body is in fact the brain active as never before. After four years I not yet established whether this was a fortune. I lost my job, although he has a stubborn father who insists in running the my company, stealing time and value to its commitments. I lost the girl. I lost the taste for travel (more often than those who were pleased routes have become real their ordeal because of my physical condition), despite still push me very far.
I lost a great many certainties, concerning the Freedom, Respect, Dignity, Justice and with security.
security that she prays everyday, and try to impose adding new laws and new rules to those already in existence (until recently very effective, at least for public opinion). Too bad that these laws have not been able to defend me, Frederick, Charles and Gabriel from the excesses of those who represented at that time, institutions.
Ill.mo Minister of Interior, some things are hammering me more than anything: daily I wonder what it can push men to that. I do not have the answer. Every day I wonder if any of these tragedies could be avoided. The answer is always the same: yes.
In my humble opinion, what has allowed these people to leave the party worse if it was the security to get away.
seems paradoxical, but in a country like ours where people are talking about " certainty of punishment" and "responsibility" and "silence", the very people who should give the example act with impunity and not breaking any written law, dishonor rationally divided institution represented, defending one of their mistakes impunity.
Ill.mo Minister of the Interior, after so many speculations, I have come to a conclusion : if these people were immediately recognizable therefore responsible for their actions, they would not behave that way and I do not I lost so much.
then I ask: how is it that in Italy the police would not result in a sign of recognition immediate as is the case in most European nations ?
Ill.mo Minister of the Interior, I do not seek revenge, if anything, Justice. I appeal to you and to all people of good sense that these men are arrested and still unable to play in their "duty".
I ask that you do the job and nothing is covered up.

Sincerely.
Paolo Scaroni, the victim of a distracted state.

It seemed only right. In an Italy increasingly poor in content and more and more hateful and racist. The Middle Ages Italian. O Weimar Republic. Decide on a bit 'you ...

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In the streets, squares, palaces
children, mothers at home, workers
lot of money, a house, a job
all mad, all mad, all mad!
this is not my life, this is not for

me a war, a death, a great race to the death
everybody happy, everybody happy, you're dying
all mad, all mad, all dead.

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"El derecho de vivir no se Mendiga. If toma. "

Gabriel Tomas de la Torre arrived in Pampallana in 2001 by mule, 120 km from the first dirt road. In the middle of puna , the plateau is about 4000 meters above sea level and its extension is contained in a large sigh, one of many necessary due to the lack of oxygen. The uninhabited and many a shepherd children in homes scattered that have the same color of earth and mud. Here and there squads of llamas and sheep, biblical view of the strong sunlight.

Gabriel Tomás de la Torre arrived with the revolutionary idea of \u200b\u200binstalling a school. arrival was welcomed into the home of Don Cresencio , the spiritual leader and social community, a position gained through seniority. Sixty, maybe, some teeth, perhaps, carved and fatigue in the folds of the face. Gabriel stayed with him a year, sleeping with him for t err, warming to the same fire burned in the middle of the room and washing to the river, when the icy wind and thin permitted.
's been 8 years. The school today is recognized by the government and has three classrooms, t King stable masters and three rotary . Thanks the table of the malnutrition problem has been almost completely resolved. Were cost Ruite common latrines, wells rubbish, many people sleeping on mattresses and wood burning holes in more and more like chimneys. Solar panels have been installed for the supply of current in communal buildings. You have created even a small reference space, call Amola square, bounded by a circular enclosure of stones and centered enormous sculpture of Pusca no , to represent the working tradition of this people o. The community of 170 souls is cres they like to 265 pupils and the school in total 62. Finally, a few days ago, laid the foundation for the construction of a gigantic little as first aid center. But the real magic of Gabriel was not to allow this Incredi the social development as well as that of giving an identity to this indigenous community, the Diaguitos-Calchaquí . Geographic location to give a, a consciousness of the people, u na dignity as human beings by a handful of people that time forgot. Making sure that the gold themselves are the authors of this revolution. Gabriel Tomas de la Torre, the biggest and true revolutionary who has known the but .

survive on pastoralism. Raise llamas, sheep and some skeletal cow. They feed through the flesh of their animals and through the wool they sell. Qu esta after being cut with shears so crude as dangerous, is spun with the help of a wooden instrument called puisca . In its form and how it is used is reminiscent of a spinning top. The spinner grasps with thumb and index the apex of puisca and with a soft motion oe habitually spins in the middle of ell'aria or placed with a its tip to the ground, while the other hand the hyenas mant tightrope. That's how you create that warm and almost magical ball of the loves livelihoods for these people Diaguitos-Calchaquí .

"What calls people who spin wool?" " Puscanos. Actually you badly on us when we go to Cafayate or other places and the people there laughed and said, look at them there, the puscanos "" Perfect! this from now on must be the largest source of great pride for the people Diaguitos-Calchaquí of Pampallana . Building a large mo Pusca so that you can say one day: If you want to know the most talented weavers, come Pampallana "

The church was packed, the day and celebration. They are slowly, from distant parts, hours to walk attend the Mass of Father Jose , mestizos oe belly. Some children will receive the confirmation, the other communion, baptism others. The whole community, or almost. Many clothes full of color, some gray cat ca 50s futuristic eyewear gyrate in front of us and confirm the sacredness of the day. Even we in the church, glued to the atmosphere, and participate in small friendly ignoring considerations antiecclesistiche moments more comfortable. Children, dirty and many, smiling, corricchiano, sticky sweets are rubbed around the mouth, drop little excited cries and perhaps from space closed and crowded.
Wind infiltrating the spaces left by inexperienced hands, between the walls and tin roof, whose thundering noise and frightening the accompanying sermon d el care and seems a threat sent by God diabolical. Even the animals, creatures here treated as men, involved in selfless. But the most awaited moment arrives unexpectedly tatamente at the end of the Mass: starting to resonate in our ears the names of lle most important families in the village, around 6, which actually derive all the inhabitants of the community. So, in groups, males of each family raise a small altar wood, with holy vows and fluorescent, and carry it outside the church. This is where a group of people starts to affect more or less in unison, the drum that hung around his neck while the highest of the five sings with a small bandeòn (accordion) a short litany , pedantic, repetitive. Their alcohol level is very high, especially that of El Chiva that staggered and swollen eyes, or pretend to arties the long snake that is forming for the proc ession . The father, in the midst of the people, kicks off with a prayer boomed through a megaphone. We too are drawn into the people, and even from within we have the feeling of being par you a big, wobbly, cold and desperate souls barge that is struggling to not get lost in the vast emptiness that surrounds them.
When we return in c HURCH, orm the stable and with feet firmly planted in this surreal, it's our time. Do not climb on the altar to avoid conflicts of interest, and present ourselves to the community. Everywhere around us hard faces, worn by weather and fatigue, and property captured by our eyes and perhaps the western part of our discourse. We continue to talk and we seem to have no in front of an audience, but u n under Bosch. We end with applause led by Gabriel, but we understand that you have hit the target when we are received in private by Casiquiare Iloy Suares, head of the entire indigenous community Diaguitos-Calchaquí . Tall, robust, strong and determined, the or elected after he freed his people, to gunshots, a murderess schizoid (and thus have spent almost 200 nights in jail). The meeting is short and practical: we welcome you with a hoarse voice and talks about the profound health problems (mostly due to the arrogance of the doctors responsible the area) and agree on a few key goals. When his farewell handshake penetrates deep and gives us a force that will accompany us throughout our continu enza.

The first film I saw was Jurassic Park. The next day Don Crecencio went to Gabriel (El Maestro ) and having deceived by words and coca leaves the real reason for the visit, with reverential fear made the following question "But these animals live far from here, right?"

The long evenings spent talking with Gabriel, a man and incredibly profound anthropological intelligence, allows us to get to the bottom of some primordial dynamics as universal. Before the arrival of the school's people Pampallana lived mainly grassland farming and barter. Without bosses and utter anarchy, the only sign of design was the division of the land consists of stone and mud walls. In the first two years of development these people, aware of the vital importance of an institution like the school, did not show the slightest hesitation in giving available terr eni and especially labor. As well as donations, mostly school supplies and clothing, were accepted with great humility and gratitude. But over time, and with the arrival of the first well (mattresses, latrines ..) some mechanism has changed. The two richest families and conosciut and, with some extra blade so to speak, began to compete, vain, against the new "element" outside, no longer co-operate for the community. No one now pays his own workers for free, but only in exchange for money. Someone starts to expect even better quality and quantity of donations. Not only that, but the increase in sale of their products (meat and knife) against the foreign, godfather, teacher or doctor who is, overly friendly behavior is calculated.
Another example, cult Urals more significant is the relationship men have with women, summed up perfectly by " ramear . "Copper ar " means, in castellano spoken here, tear (miss) the classes of tola, low spiny bush and dry, the only source of timber in the area. This word is used to describe their approach with the opposite sex: the children multiply and their load is, of course, to his mother. Eight years of opening to the world not sufficient to influence a society so deeply patriarchal and ancestral mechanisms. You need more time, more confidence and the test may even be counterproductive. It is for this reason that Gabriel invites us to avoid any kind of education sess HAT, but be ready to accommodate any request that comes from them. So we learn that the development of any community (and in particular certain changes) should come from the people that is part and do not come from above.

And finally we, scattered and small doctors found in this huge puna . Thirty days of daily conflict and confrontation with a mind so far.
Pedro has 18 months, a fever from his horse, the lungs gasping and crying constantly. The mother, when we took him, does not seem particularly worried, rather very curious about our features. We quite alarmed, sent for Odorico, manager of health Pampallana , because he is to administer the antibiotic. The answer is that smell is bouncing shoeing a mule because tomorrow will definitely go somewhere away for several days.
What to do, what to think. The rage and the curses and the air we invest respectively. The drugs will lead them to him later, promise strategic ppata between the teeth. Then, boil the passes and leaves space for reflection. Is this what being away from home. Is this the meaning of what we call "experience". Understand how the content of speech can change radically despite the words used are the same. Understand that even the term "responsibility", if not adapted to the contingencies, remains tragically empty. And then again we close our eyes , lower the defenses (and arrogance) e ci adagiamo nelle loro braccia, lotta da inside, appena sussurrate parole.

DOÑA UBENZA

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Ando crying pa ' inside, although I
ria pa 'out.
So I have to live
waiting for me to die.

I give advantage to the winds
because I can not fly, until
grabbed my box
and start vagualear.

My race states to ask,
there in the mountains of charity,
not have the time and not give more, pray
praying because it will

sonic Valley stony
stone by stone to the wind goes, erasing traces
my pain
my heart is pure silence.

I crossed just in case,
fence no god exists
and take me pa '
hell with all my sheep.

do not know if there will be another world
where souls sigh
I live on this earth
fussing all day.

My race states to ask,
there in the mountains of charity,
not have the time and not give more, pray
praying because it will

sonic Valley stony
stone by stone to the wind goes, erasing traces
my pain
my heart is pure silence.

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False promises and a very strange optimism
her smile confuses Italian
against processes and many other bad stories
the president knows what it takes!

I can not hold me to reshoot
too much anger inside me I want to scream!
against the company and its police
where is freedom? And democracy?

not say no to this president! X3
no fuck that "his" people!

now that I think, has always said that my right to dissent and
obvious risk big but, I come home all broken!
no problem WE LIVE IN Let 'disinterest
SO GOOD TO PRETEND TO NOTHING!

I can not hold me to reshoot
too much anger inside me I want to scream!
against the company and its police
where is freedom? And democracy?

not say no to this president! X3
no fuck that "his" people!
this' man and too low ...
holdeth its own broken .... CAZZOOOOO

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Baustelle - The war is over

"Living is not possible," he left a note
useless

And despite the bombs nearby and hunger
Despite
mines left on the sheet of black words life
"The war is over is over forever

At least for me,"

And despite his crazy mother and her father
Despite Belgrade, America and Bush
With a bic scented
From actress burned
"The war is over"
wrote it.

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NO BERLUSCONI DAY





A national demonstration to demand the resignation of Berlusconi: "No Day Berlusconi" Rettet Italien, die Demokratie Rettet. Zurücktreten Berlusconi soll

Wir wissen nicht , passieren Was wird, nachdem endlich Silvio Berlusconi resigns.
We believe that the false "fair play" of some opposition politicians, only a lack of assistance of our democracy is over. But they will when the time is ripe to have to apologize to the voters.
But what we know is that Mr Berlusconi, a dangerous anomaly in the western democracy - which has in recent days made sufficiently clear by aussländerischen media, when Italy was a "dictatorship" - and that Berlusconi should not be there, where it is just that because he never really had to get there. This also
it is obvious, so he tried for a long time laws and constitutional amendments , Struggle through the use to him personally, such as the so-called "Lodo Alfano".
We no longer can see how he is our country for over 15 years, keeps at bay, as his ideas of "personal" state it incites against any form of free speech, as evidenced by the recent attacks on the free press, satire and the Internet is clearly the Außdruck.
We can ignore his incredible arrogance no longer, and his bloody entanglements with the Mafia and non, as his relations with Vittorio Mangano and Marcello Dell'Utri show.

He must resign and defend itself, like any ordinary citizen, on trial.

No Berlusconi Day



Italy Save, save democracy: Berlusconi should resign
What happens if Berlusconi resigns does not interest us, and we believe that the alleged "fair play" of certain currents of opposition constitutes an act of omission to give aid to our democracy, which they may have to answer to voters. What we know is that if Berlusconi is a serious anomaly among Western democracies - confirmed these days by the foreign press that defines us as a "dictatorship" - anomaly does not occur to exist, and indeed would never have happened. Berlusconi is so aware of his situation he is constantly working to change laws and the Constitution to his advantage (as in the case of the former law Alfano) and is poised to take further measures as authoritarian portend its recent Statements in Benevento. We can no longer keep quiet when faced with initiatives from a man holding the country hostage for over 15 years and, together with its proprietary design of the state is hostile to any form of free expression as evidenced by the savage attacks made to the independent press, satire, and network Internet in recent months. We can no longer stay quiet about the lack of prejudice to a man that the heavy shadows of his past makes suspected of being linked to the Mafia, of having sex with the mafioso Vittorio Mangano caliber or convicted for Mafia association to external competition as Marcello Dell'Utri.



He must resign and defend itself, like any citizen, the Court of the Republic against the charges that are laid.


http://noberlusconiday.wordpress.com/