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X: see test

On the official website Real Earth X you can download a small test scenario of the Dolomites X.
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MALA TEMPORA CURRUNT ...

have some time alone at home . I like to be alone with my thoughts were it not for my own thoughts. They approach to the mind, the first thin as strokes, then as a devious assassins up to make room for anxiety, panic.

bills, insurance, and VAT, the loss of revenue from customers increasingly in crisis, more and more charged with ... thoughts.

Outside the lights of the shops for next Christmas trying in every way to be more flamboyant and more hot but give me more sadness than joy.

Listening to the latest CD of Sugar and the music just does not help, it encourages optimism.

" Mala tempora currunt " said an old Roman. I wonder if addressed to the oracle of his time or ours.

pass. Everything passes. Hopefully.

The ancient Roman had also added "... sed peiora parantur " but certainly not this will be remembered for his entourage.

Damn! When I try I can not find ever. Where did I put? Maalox damn where are you? I

NAUSEA

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Tremiti 2.0

E 'release the new scenario of the team Real Earth X. This is the scenario Tremiti version 2. Characteristic buildings were added to the site and other small improvements. All about Real
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Coming soon ....

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MONTANARI

I happened to write on my other blog post treating the most diverse topics as often warm and most modern Muslims and their religion or politics absurd operetta of our country and never, until now at least, I got too passionate comments , agitated, exaggerated of those people I like to call "mountain people".

Who would have thought?

Actually a bit 'right to have as well, on two occasions, I discussed an issue that I do not know anything: mountaineering.

Well yes! I do not understand anything at all slings, wedges, ropes, cams, hooks, snaps and so forth.
I do not know what it means "bouldering" or that it means "indoor" rock climbing, let alone why it's called a "sport" and another "traditional" .
I have never seen nor the Mont Blanc massif in the Dolomites Alps, and my only experience is reduced in a walk on a crater of Etna, where I arrived on board a Jeep .
do not know, I never bothered to know either, despite everything, I'm interested.

My knowledge of the matter begins and ends in national print ads that beat, like a broken faucet, the losses in lives of aficionados of the mountain, the last of which, they say, a big 's climbing free: Kurt Albert.

admit my guilt. I gave the 'idiot "to that victim, but did not want to be an offense against the person but to his way of thinking, to conceive, that sport.

I offer, therefore, my most sincere apologies to anyone who is offended by my writings to begin dall'Ironman Valfurva that in addition to the sponsors' gadget has a name - Marco Confortola - Kurt Albert, whose memory is still alive among the inhabitants of the mountain and all, in fact.

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The IDIOT

Albert Einstein said: "Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the universe. " Sante words.

previously I happened to write on behalf of our modern heroes.
And do not talk about general commanders of troops designed to defend the native soil or the very common people who day after day has to live with two soldiers, always and in any case, must balance a budget for which will require more than four . No.
modern heroes are those who can live in a house surrounded by microphones and cameras on an island in the Caribbean or to pretend to be the new Robinson or even mountaineers who face the highest peaks the planet and then planting a flag on the death or accompany poor people who risk their lives and dies for a few dollars and for the joy of the moment dell'idiota then release of the interviews and photos.

will speak in this regard, dell'asprezza the mountain and how the man managed to dominate and crap like that. Omit, instead to report, or modesty or distraction, contracts with sponsors. Why, you know , man as the soul, is ethical and aesthetic, virtue and interest, heart and stomach.
I remember about our Marco Confortola, the Ironman of Valfurva the man of steel in Valtellina, who accompanied him to die after three Nepalese starving the good Lord has decided to freeze up and give the doctors office hoping to amputate, so that those stumps with our considered appropriate to stay more at home close to his affections.

We know that the mother of idiots is always pregnant, but, fortunately, sometimes the same cries for the death of his stupid son.
I read that Kurt Albert died. From the press I learn that these crashed for 18 yards on via ferrata "Hoehengluecksteig. Never heard of either before or alpinist of permanent way and I guess came on the same well despite my unforgivable these gaps.

I also read that it was he who coined the term "redpoint" in 1975 to indicate a climb free, without artificial aid of any kind. What stupidity! Today
the idiot is gone. The idiot is dead. And if the first was unknown to most today will be completely erased from the memories and I believe that humanity will survive this tragedy, no matter what.

nauseating

:-(

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ATTILA THE SCOURGE OF GOD

"you do me a great big favor ... ... ... chess as a house?" is not a question, even though it may seem, but a peremptory order followed an ill, treacherous and implied threats like "If I say no I swear ...".
"Come on! Please! It is six days, less than a week!" is the compassionate expression following the first request.
"I do not know how else to do and then ... I know that deep down you like it too!"
"Next - I say - shoot! You need?"
"Attila!" says my friend. Only three syllables: At-ti-la.
speaker and I know I already know what he wants.

Attila is a tabby cat, his cat. A six-pound cat, gray and striatum, with a pound of nails. Which is he tends not resist, they cry and cry out for vengeance bags sofas armchairs.
Those who know him lose faith in God
Attila is a weapon of mass destruction.

"But do not talk so!" I say "but for heaven's sake!"
"Look! I give you the keys of the house. Once you do see a day, give him a bag of food, a bit 'of water and if you changed his litter box. Nothing. A few minutes a day .. . for six days! "
"But porcaput ..." is the oath that I will strangle in her throat.
"Yes? You? And! You?". I mention it with a head and now I find myself in hand the keys of my friend.

Reach home at about 18.00. I open and Attila is already there, just behind the door. Rubs me on the leg and greets me with a feeble " miaooo " then gets up on his hind legs and sharpen the nails on my jeans and meat of my calf. The caress and he, the damned, he rubs his tail raising.
As agreed to make dinner, to a bit 'of water in the bowl and, taking advantage of his attention to the food, I go away from home.
Easy. E 'was easy after all.

The next day, a little 'later, around 20:00, back in the house and meowing Attila greets me stronger as to show his disappointment at being late. Runs to the kitchen and starts to turn around between his legs as if I wanted to hurry to the Serviglio lunch.
Quickly swallows the contents of the bag that I had paid the first few seconds in the bowl and jump with a leap Sun beds on the couch next to me.
Turn your head down and I understand she wants to cuddle. The
inadvertently scratch the throat and descend gently towards the belly. My hand is blocked by the legs and claws from the front while the rear with a series of two or three jerks I scratch around the inner arm. The feeling is the same as having touched an uncovered electric wire. A shock you dry through the body and from it rises a curse to the sky almost like a curse. But
Attila is there to head up and Sun beds on its side on "his" couch.
I approached the door and walk away. I've had too much and may even be enough for today.

"Ah, if she knew! You will not believe me! But tonight ... Oh my God! Tonight! We could not sleep a wink!" I said the lady next door neighbor of my friend open the door and feeling comes over.
"Good morning, ma'am!" What happened? " I ask.
"The kitten, the kitten of his friend's meow all night! Poor thing just feels! Do something! Do it for me. You know, I am old, I sleep at night and for that little bit 'I was awakened by that heartbreaking .... meow! Truly heartbreaking! I say this with the lady and her enigmatic and hermetic request tells me to take more care of the "cat" or rather just take the "kitty" and take it away from the house and possibly never to return again.
"Of course sir!" I say and add "I carry with me today! happy?"

Attila seems to have understood the program and I turn around rubbing even more than before. I'll take her up and after you open the door of my car slowly on the seat. The time to turn and he sits on the shelf for long.

reached home have the time to get the cat out of my arms now, light and quiet with a leap, jump on a cushion of the couch. Squints eyes and begins to "purr". It 's the new landlord at all. He moves with grace, without any fear, with knowledge.
spent the last three days with my new tenant without major trauma and without excessive damage. He cries a pillow quartered and suffers a tent that I wanted to change for some time. The back of my hands and my hands bear the marks of affection "kitty" but it will!

"Please bring him and I do not ask for more favors like!" I say to my friend.
"Thank you, thank you again. But he has behaved really badly? Sorry again." I said and picked up after Attila goes away.

Finally I took off half of that weight! I'd had enough! Ah .!!!.. finally alone! Only! Too much more! Seeking eyes Attila who has gone away. I fail to see although it is no longer with me.
I can still hear his " purr ... purr ... " to feel the closeness and warmth of her soft hair.
There is no more. Finally. And I'm alone, and I only tremendously

NAUSEA
:-(

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PLASMON GENERATION

When I go to my parents' house like to stay a few minutes alone in the room continues to be mine and rummage among the my things. Every object continues to be in the same place where I left off and even though it has no commercial value is important to me. Memories resurface always gently. I was given this ring in silver from a friend of mine who wanted a greater good friendship and I never had the courage to confess. This magazine instead, I received a gift from my classmate before moving to another city.

I do not like the memories. They make me feel bad. The memories you cry because time of your life and how much is spent unnecessarily. You yell what you could be who you were and become who you really are and you are. Now you can not do anything even if you believe that you do something. Is not it nice living memories and it is nice to have.

But in a drawer of the same cabinet that I see here is something again, a picture of the fourth grade class that I attended at the Salesian Institute in my hometown. 23 children in a classroom, placed on three lines, the highest and lowest behind seated or kneeling, each with a black apron, with the same collar and white bow with the same gray and light gray for boys for girls. Actually, the flakes were blue and pink but the photo is in black and white and shades of gray than the picture gives more consistency.

How strange, I can remember my friends even if not the names of all. There was a skyscraper, a tall boy, the first in the top left, and before him Ciccio, a fat boy in the class had given that very name. In the midst Andrea smiled and his ears earned a large part of the paper the picture itself. John smiled in the front row who had polio as a major slap in the face of which bore the consequences. Maria was the smallest in stature and Peter was sitting beside her with one eye perpetually ajar to hide his squint in felt ashamed. Denton named for its special image and the Abyssinian took over the nickname for that frizzy hair the color of his skin dark just the opposite German pallor of a corpse and straight-haired and blond.

For an absurd coincidence or chance a few days before I happened to see a similar class photo of the son of a friend of mine, The photo was in color and children's clothing made it even more colorful. We do not use the aprons and most certainly not the ribbons around his neck. Some say it is too reminiscent of the grim decades of a uniform and discipline.
All the children were smiling to the photographer to show off, almost everyone, a bell'apparecchio orthodontics. All the same, all beautiful, with small and insignificant nuances.

It 's the new generation pulled up with baby food and food preparations for children.
It 's the new generation that is bursting with health, ipervaccinata against everything and antibiotic coverage for all. I think where it fails the apron and bow thinks Plasmon to standardize the children but this is my personal opinion as mine remains the

NAUSEA
:-(

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people so '

some years now live, for rent, in an ancient palace. The nobility of this property is visible at the entrance where a huge eagle, I believe in plaster, dominating inside, the door and a stained glass window, placed in front of it, limits access to what in times past would have been a garden, but today is the storage of bulky water tanks and a noisy pump. The nobility is appreciated also fallen from the dust that powdered the stucco of the stairs, it obscures the lamps and bricks in my little flat coming off more frequently.

Outside the building there are shops, some of which, lately more often, change the owners of licenses and product categories, while the smallest of these sets with a banner proudly input, with a plate written in italics dark green on cream background; Fratelli Grimaldi - Tailoring since 1926.

Old Mr. Grimaldi I find every day sitting on a humble chair near the door, leaning on some cloth to sew and put one foot on a stool that serves as a banquet for the "tools" of the trade: skeins of thread, scissors, a piece of chalk , a thimble and other small objects. The other brother, I knew, died a few years ago and two others, a boy and a man in his forties help him get on with the job.

Mr. Grimaldi is a good person and I like to exchange a few words with him.

"How are you, Mr. Grimaldi? "I ask after greeting him." Well, but ... might be better, or ... probably will not ever get better than this! "I replied a bit twisted 'mouth.

" The crisis, right? "I ask the little' rhetoric and" No ... is not a crisis. Indeed, to be honest, I never blamed the crisis in this area. But take a seat. Take that chair and sit down. Here, near me! Chat ".

" You see! I have a store full of bags of clothing stores for a large part of the city. "He says." Well! No? "I ask knowing that it was in those envelopes is the origin of face to face Mr. Grimaldi." Yes, of course ... but you it is simple jobs to routine. To these I have to shorten some dress pants and shake, while those I have to change the buttons or any open slot. All works well, without interest, without joy. Did you know? you must also work to the delight not only for the money. In fact ... "and stops with the same face to face before.

" Indeed? "I ask to hear the reasoning. The old tailor, supports what he worked on his legs, takes off his glasses and remembering the times gone says: "Once they worked for little and that seemed a little much. We were all poor people and the tailor was used to hide the poverty. How many times have I "made" coats and jackets! and sometimes the inside was the most worn part of the surface! I also remember when, with Emily, my brother, we took some measures to make the wedding dress of the customer. Always with some half size bigger because, after the marriage, check the bacon. And that customer came back after a few years, because you had to do some other work, always in the same dress. Having to tell a customer that there was no help for her dress was how to report a bad diagnosis, prognosis. I also remember the faces of those mothers who brought their children new pants with holes on the knees in a fall during a football match. They waited in prayer our own decision in most cases very mild. But we were tailors and the workshop was our job. Then came the lords Marzotto, Lebole, Sanremo with their clothes on the assembly line. All the same, is modest in cut and in the quality of the fabrics but still we serve, we serve our thimbles to change any of the half-size or length. Today it is not so! The quality of the fabrics is very bad and the same clothes should fit only for a season or two at most. And then there are the new super-technological fabrics. They are called Hi Tech as Ceramide or Teflon or the Goratex. For me they are just plastic sewing impossible, difficult to adjust, ugly. Patience! "And shakes his head slowly how to conclude a speech Voilerie painful.

"Yeah Right!" I say come and immediately stopped "Today I give € 10 to shorten a pair of pants and 20 for a little work on a silk dress. earn well and I can not complain but you want to put ?..."

is not the same thing. It can not be the same. It can never be the same. Everything is changing and will change except that the

NAUSEA
:-)

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INTERRACIAL

Anna is the mother of a friend of mine but it's as if it were mine. Indeed it is not my mother but it is a my friend because you can discuss with friends and act like you could not with their mothers do.

Always attentive to guests' needs and, at times obsessively careful not to miss a smile, a gentle caress and a council and, perhaps, even a rebuke.

know you always and forever I want to know, and it will love the next.
"Good morning, Mrs. Anna. How are you?" is my greeting. "Hello, Good! Not really good: pretty well ... almost too bad!" his answer is that troubles me and worries me. "What happened? - Ask - are you hurt?" "No no no! We miss this one. And 'that ... I'm sorry, but I do not want to talk about!"
It takes a cigarette from a packet, the switch is to the side of the filter, turns his hands off and still retain it in the package.

"Do you want a coffee.?" Calls with a fake smile as a three euro coin. "All right! So we calmed down a little song about it? Make me company?" "Sure," she says and then immediately leads to a coffee table and two cups.
wants to talk, I feel, I want to scream and beat their fists on the table or in someone's face, he needs to say what the ruined stomach. "What happened?" I ask with a tone more energetic. "Marina. My grace is called Marina. He must not do this to me."

Marina is the daughter of twenty-five, pretty, student and worker, not to burden the family. A good girl! A sweet and edgy at the same time.
"Because unfortunately, what has he done?"
"He's a boy!" she says "a good guy, nothing to say, serious, sympathetic. She has a degree and knows three languages. But ..."
"Okay! But you must also convince you that Marina is 25 years old and had to happen!" reference in response. "No, no. You can not understand! He is a foreigner, is Senegal, Liberia or Ivory or better to say I do not know. For me they are all the same." "What?" ... Black? " I say.

head to China to imply a yes, but also adds a deep sigh, agitated and moves his hands as if to add something that does not want uscirle from the intestines and stops in his chest.

"Come on now Come on! Do not think Bluebeard or something! I think will be a nice young man knowing the character of your daughter. Come on! It's not the black man?" And I realize only when it is called having committed a gaffe terribbile that, fortunately, is welcomed with a smile from Anna.
"Who knows! I do not like this story!" she says. "But you already know?" I ask.
"No no no, but I also want to know and talk to him. To see what stuff a man is. ... And also never mind go!"
"Forget what?" I ask again.
"I think it is too ... too!"
"Even?" lengthening its response.
"Muslim! Not practicing, but not a fundamentalist Muslim. There!" And I told you all! " and finally take a deep breath as will satisfy a hunger for air.

"Well! Indeed! Guy to have a house, five times a day ... ... lies on the ground and shows you in prayer .... my ass is not ... you know, its the best but ...! " I do not know what else to add but it seems that my face has graced more Anna laughs.

We have finished drinking the first cup of coffee, but we need another and this time with the correct grappa. A lot of brandy. "Allah akbar!" my bark is lifting the cup. "Prosit!" Anna replied, smiling again.

We have the same feeling, the same

NAUSEA
:-(

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FACEBOOK

The daughter of a friend of mine to say that it did not understand a topic, theme, or at least a speech using a colorful expression, but highly effective: "I do not understand I've got a chip only lippa! ". The phrase conveys the idea throughout the whole.

Well I do not understand I've got a chip only lippa!

I read that "Facebook is a social platform that lets you connect with your friends and others who work, study and live around you." I have not so familiar with this kind of computer connection, but I too have had the curiosity to try to come into this world very popular and, in some respects, absurd.

After registration I followed the advice to search for old friends and classmates, and what surprised me is that many of those who tried were there. During working hours and office "I requested their friendship" that after a few hours I arrived promptly, a clear sign that many people, or at least many of my acquaintances and friends have nothing better to do than to stay glued in front of a monitor and a keyboard computer. The next day, opening the "About Me", I find five messages.

Curiosity is a woman but I will certainly too few female hormone and it worries me. I open the messages and friend requests, I find two people that I have ever met in my life, calls for two games - and Hotel city Pet Society - and a "Who are you? I do not know who wrote and distrust always presented first. This game, however, with Pet Society. I understand now that this is a boring play that has the advantage of even more stunned than I can think for yourself. After a few days back on my page and read: "John Tizio and Caio Mauro Giovanna commented on the photo of Harry." "What I care! I say to myself.

Scroll down the page and my "Mario Lavezzi has tagged a photo". Tagging , what does tag? I'm not going to deepen. I continue to scroll down the page and found two notifications and I realize I have 158 friends. Who would have thought! I do not have time to respond and write a few lines that suffered other friend requests arrive and impertinent questions make me believe that it is not so much about "old". Only after I learned that those questions were part of the last polls of the "social platform" that had nothing to statistics or science, but they were a hobby. Yeah! a pastime, not much unlike the old "chain letter" of the past.

I do not go out anymore! How do you stop?

answer to the last two friend requests, I write a few words on the board who knows who he is, I give to eat a horse of Pet Society and close it. I

NAUSEA

:-(

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NAUSEA SUMMER

E 'for some days that it's hot, really hot and already regret the winter and the days of cold and rain that accompanied us until a few days ago.
With the heat do not feel like staying indoors to melt the air conditioning was apparently done on purpose, when you need it there is always something that makes it work as it should be so, especially at night, come out and accept any invitation of a friend to go out to some place where they proceeded to lay out the tables. Hope
earnestly in the coolness of the outdoor spaces but soon you will have your disappointments, and with it, start your sufferings.

"A plate of sausages and cheeses accompanied by fresh salad "is the advice of a young-college-student-waiter, friendly, smiling, shiny with sweat." Drink a plug 400 double malt. Fresh, frozen actually! Take care! "Is the recommendation of my friend who obviously prefers the outdoor temperature of the beverage and food but the calories and the unknown power" hot, "especially for beer that is drunk immediately after being returned to the planet through a copious sweat that moistened our shirts and gives a warm feeling even more troublesome.

But that feeling of warmth, too nice to tell the truth because it is with friends who're going through a night, is interrupted arrival, suddenly, a limousine white, twelve feet by car, a long written - Bacirubati - goods advertised on the side of cheap clothing for customers increasingly tasteless. Blue LED lights, psychedelic light up the bottom of that car does not just end in itself but in return those lights make it even more horrible and, finally, the occupants come out that take place in the same table where I am with my friends . Three

bombshells, just dressed, smiling, flutters to life as two gyms immediately seek the attention of any audience. In the midst of the flock that a young Italian male greets people who do not has ever seen in his life, he smiles to others who do not know, meeting the smiles of others unknown. It strikes me in the right forearm a tattoo: Padre Pio in a 1:1 ratio. Now that's faith! Who is it? Boh! All right! And 'he! - Says a young friend certainly not very attentive to what is true and standard of life but rather so diligently to TV programs - It 's Fabiano: that of Big Brother. What Big Brother? the sixth! And the run meet with their cell phones ready to take pictures.

Fabiano reassured after the two gyms that cattle were close to defend the lives and privacy of the great man, embraces them, one by one, smiles and emits sounds simple, primary, primate, such as "AO ! and mo? still! anvedi! .
accompaniment sounds simple, low harmonic gestures americanegroidi type "V" or thumbs up or the index finger and thumb and lifted his other hand touched his groin: his own.

Geese smile and flutter, the body guards try to contain the public - about 5 or 6 kids, perhaps short-sighted, they were approached to see who was the star or, more likely to see up close that car from 12 meters.

The local people initially annoyed by the presence even if not tumultuous, back after a few minutes to matters that had failed, returns to discuss, smiling, talking, drinking, eating.

The two "ducks", just after photos with the star bound in the memories of their cerebral cortex consist of little more than a dozen neurons and return to the tables to talk and smile. Near the 12-meter long car Fabiano is to repeat its simple sounds AO! And mo? Still! Anvedi! "but not alone, and not noticed it. He near the two Body Guards that quickly continue to look to the right and left and hold a crowd that now is no more. Idiots!

But! 'Is beer is really tough! Embrace the proximity of the young, friendly, student-university-waiter to ask for and use " nun me if I care n'cazzo is a. .."

NAUSEA
:-(

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I ... Talian!!

Lippi prefers a team, "changing room" that is imprinted in the game to establish harmonious whole. Prefers a team a team to play and not just a play on words.

Players like Balotelli and Cassano, true pearls of world football, hand in hand are difficult to manage, nervous behavior, capable a great show and a great game but intolerant of advice and, least of all, to blame the coach .

The outline of the proposed national football and well-established, best understood as a 4 4 2, today accused the slowness of the wings and inability to play fast and accurately to the midfield.

missing the mythic figures of the national scheme for this game.

missing Totti and Del Piero and suffer from their lack of tips and Gilardino in particular, that figure appears to be an advanced and exiled in a field position absolutely not served by the rest of the team.

might seem a summary of an article by some specialist sports press as the Courier or the Gazzetta dello Sport but it is not right.

I'm in the living room and wait for my turn and as noted above is the opinion of my pedantic and careful barber between a cutting board and a quick mop of the scissor kick a customer holds forth on tactics and strategy of our eleven heroes in the trenches of South Africa.

The demand for care of another customer, waiting for his turn, is attracted by a article and especially the photos of a scantily clad Belen Rodriguez, last minute babe, on a weekly subscription to the salon - Novella 2000 (ed) - sort a veiled appreciation by a neighbor while sculpting a face of disapproval on the face of vate barber who is accepted as dogma by the disciple who receives customers in addition to cutting the hair profuse truth. They shake their heads as if it was both a reproach and the barber, as if nothing had happened, and resumed his analysis.

Italians! Italians good people! Italian capable of anything and everything wise!

I known Umbrian people talk about the beat and pace of pitch and roll to equal if not better than the old seafarers and little more than ignorant people think of constitutional law and the Constitution to the equal value of jurisdictionalism dusty and navigation and others speak Stock Market and World Economy blush to do a dragon is none other than a Governor of the Bank of Italy.

Italians,! If it were not have to invent, but as the drugs or tobacco, should be accompanied by a caption like: "Warning continuous and excessive use can cause damage to health and cause

NAUSEA
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beyond the reach '

real conversation with a senior entertained his 70 which carry the most moving passages and reproach to the latest citation of Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi.

"They tell me that I lived beyond my real possibility but I do not understand!

I went to work for 13 years first as a boy in a bar then as a building. The school is not that I really liked, but to tell the truth, even encouraged me a lot to attend.

I said I was a novice building "but I knew that carrying a bucket metal or plastic filled with cement from side to side. That bucket was heavy and too thin and I slap some on the neck by a major still burns.

Then, at 18, I met a girl, Mary. We made big plans blocked almost immediately by a child, my first child. Great beautiful child who looked like but I do not know how we ate. Meanwhile

carry no more that bucket, but I put the bricks on each other and with a lead I so did not fall. And my son came to her brother.

mouths and increased expenditures and decreased work and money.

Strange! Today I realize that it did not never made a trip to my wife!
you that I have traveled! I know the Veneto as my pockets. I built industrial buildings for people to work and then I also know the outskirts of Monaco of Bavaria, Munchen call, and the region of Baden Wurttemberg. Stuttgart is beautiful: it binds them with iron bars and never could figure out what to serve.

And the nights of the desert, in Algeria, are unforgettable, so starry, cold, magic. Too bad! Sin for that incredible smell of gas. Welded pipes and paid me. I paid well and that money came home to Mary who took them to the bank to pay a mortgage, a debt beyond my ability. I forgot: I also bought a house. 70 meters. Very convenient for all of us - and besides I was always around! - and I could pay it comfortably in 20 years.

Today is mine!

My kids are gone: they have a family now. Today I will not go around town and even Mary's will. But he never wanted? Who knows! We spend our evenings watching TV. We continue to live a life beyond our means "

:-(

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MEDIA CHILDREN

Invite the reader of this post to disprove. It 's a sincere invitation, with no other motivation than that want to understand if there is other life in the planet (I am expanding a bit 'too!) to think that way or what am I missing and what I do not understand the talk show Italic.

I am convinced that a show that I will should talk to understand a particular argument, discuss an issue that fascinates the public at a given time and task of the moderator, irreplaceable and noble, is to conduct the discourse at the heart of the problem and avoid litigation.

Great examples of these shows are the famous David Letterman Show and the best known American and caciarolo Maurizio Costanzo Show now entrusted to the memory of home television. Both drivers knew and know how to handle the host, knew and know how to arouse public attention to the seriousness of the issue and stagger the lightness of a joke to the public, a laugh.

Last night, John Floris led to yet another episode of Ballarò.
theme of the episode of the current crisis in the western world, particularly Europe. The methods for tackling the crisis and hopes for a future better.

The subject is serious and understand something even more useful. But from the beginning we realize that something is wrong. Why should not go. A hateful

mummer - Crozza - opens the transmission satire of circumstance thus indicating which way the political staff is deployed, then an economist, Nobel laureate, discusses the thing solo and finally the conductor has the guests: a dozen , divided by faith and political beliefs in two rows facing each other, and an outside expert - Nando Pagnoncelli dell'IPSOS President, Society for the detection of many statistics that may seem as hateful like they are finally to the most. It lasted

about two hours, including the ubiquitous tediosissima advertising and the time a Floris runs back and forth screaming at the center of two rows of the study for the entire distance of about 12-15 meters from the noise of guests who invested in them and hurled invectives allegations.

The question I always put it: "But is it really necessary and appropriate to invite so many people seem to transmit more than a chicken coop schizophrenic useful for a seminar speaker and, above all, for those who listen" ? I'm right and the facts they comfort me. And in fact ...

the Floris and ran like a madman, desperately trying to mediate guests that now seem to be competing at a bowling club. Cries he trying to establish itself and bring the conversation to the topic of the day, giving the floor to a visitor who cried less, in the case say, and that is immediately interrupted by howls from other another. "Go fuck yourself!" The language used is from a well-known exponent of the Italian left to direct a reporter and "here you go to hell!" and the phrase that a member of the center-right cries at this point to those who want to hear. Ballarò becomes the sports bar.

After a few miles of travel Giovanni Floris closes with an inviting smile pulled the viewer to follow him to the next installment in the background while you can still hear the cries of Guests themselves without any inhibitions and forget to be participants in a program, to be in the homes of many, continue with their gnashing of teeth, with their "I have not stopped!" or "Now it's my turn!" and "Just two words and not interrupt you most" need is someone shouting "Inter W" or to sing "What we care about, but there 'MOUNT!" and the picture would be complete, perfect

nauseating
:-)

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The items used to construct the sentences they serve, in turn, to illustrate a thought, to communicate, to convey feelings, anger, pain and even nausea .
The items thus a means to bring not to remove, as an invisible wall that serves to distinguish those who use them in one way rather than opens another.

I had in my hands a week, a newspaper than TV programs. Nothing fancy.
MY TV is the title (to forget) of Cairo Editore (to close) and Sandy Mayer the Director (to stop).
There is no point. Services are not interesting. Bad photos. No need even for the purpose that it pursues.
So absolutely not worth the 70 cents it costs.
In an article, interview, has attracted my attention. "My husband and I have a python" is the title . Francesca Inardi is interviewed, a squinzietta last minute note to those who do not know, much less for what.
service (sigh!) Mattia Pagnini is that his fame as a nuclear physicist but probably will never, in my opinion, an award in journalism.
The girl, in the brief two-page interview, explains to the astonished Pagnini had always wanted a snake, and finally, after convincing the husband, he turns to his reptile house. "De gustibus non est disputandum" said Cesare or his representative. The interview
(arisigh!) could have been concluded in this way, but the careful Pagnini want to overdo it and here's the question that shakes the cuffs, "How to have a python around the house?" The response of the star
sets in motion the intestines of the reader:
"It 'a very particular animal is born with a very different relationship than what you have with a dog or a cat."

think if it were a rhinoceros or a hippopotamus!

"A snake is not able to recognize, understand that I am his mistress."

But! what a nice company!

"With him, however, are unable to establish a type of communication very intimate, and when I close, can feel my mood and, with the movements of his body, knows how to boost my emotions. It 's amazing! "

I have a limited culture. I have not studied enough and now I repent of my sins no more. What did he want to say or rather what I had understood from Pout Pourri of those words? What means "very intimate communication" in addition to what my brain thought initially flaccid and treacherous, how does a reptile to "amplify the emotions and what emotions?

I must study. To prepare for a possible interview on any subject as, For example, peace, war, snakes, hippos, the economic crisis, Inter, or Vasco Rossi, Arabs or Jews, because it does not matter what you talk but how you respond. For any question my answer would be "certainly is not a - animal, person, team, people, religion - he loves the patterns or generalizations. Regardless of the categorizations, stereotypes, attributes that society imposes."
does not mean a fucking look great but you want to put and

NAUSEA
:-(

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I'm increasingly changing. Some say for the better while others do not share their own. I love the other, those "others". They give me hope.

I've always had, and I fear change.

I should not digress and go to the story, precisely because of the story, another story, it is.

Yesterday I was in Bologna.

A cold dog dressed in a light drizzle that occasionally soaked the clothes of those who, like me, they thought: "Come on! Mica does not rain?" and instead ....

I went out recently from a supermarket and surplus at a slow pace for one of those suburban streets that make Bologna even more adorable. A road, with a small platform in contact with the gardens: empty because of the cold.

come from the opposite direction I see a young woman with an envelope in his hand pushing a pram with a baby a few years drowned in a down jacket with hood. A little "Michelin" red could just to turn heads. And he turned his head to his brother on his right, a beautiful little boy about five years.

He had a life belt with a holster type Old West and holding a toy gun, drum, pointing straight against the brother and intimacy to these "old Altolia zeien stinker! Sssòccia! I wanted to hit with your frezza poisoned and I will bring all uzzido. Click! Click! Click!

Beautiful! But could you ever imagine a cowboy who speaks with a strong accent? And if that were true, could never cowboy to kill? Absolutely not, I think.

still raining and they say it will continue to rain all week.
Sssòccia! Cursed "Piozzi!

I continue walking and repeating many times the phrase of the young cowboy smile and smile again and thereby defeats the puzzosa

NAUSEA

:-)

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WORDS GREETINGS FROM BOLOGNA CATANIA

I wrote a post about this city, "The other is us", 2.2.2008, and now back on the subject and, in particular, on those people. Incredible people, absurd, absurdly unreal, impossible, but to believe this.

has happened to me and tell me, so that normally happens in these parts.

But let us proceed with order.

I have a business meeting in Catania and I go there to discuss the points and, above all interests. I decide to reach the city by plane and rent a car there already on the plane to move but I can think of that city traffic, the inability to find a parking space, how to get my address.

No! And 'better and more appropriate to take a taxi.

After less than an hour's flight landed in Catania and already the track makes me shiver.

I do not have the power but I have always maintained that the track is, well, a little 'small'. Makes me think the hard braking upon landing and the roar of the engines which slow the plane. This, for example, does not happen in Rome and Milan where, I believe, those tracks are, well, "normal" longer, in fact.

Anyway! I take my trolley and go out and, surprise, there is a taxi. I ask a gentleman there of the place that answers me shouting "Chou spiassi to Stancanelli!" - I ask Stancanelli -. The same gentleman is Stancanelli learn that the mayor, not loved to tell the truth, and taxi drivers are on strike for a drawing municipal category.

"Piggie u 457!" - Take 457 - the old man continues to scream trying to stretch his arm to capacity to tell where the city buses, the 457 in fact, started. All right! I take the bus!

A € the price of the ticket from the airport to the city center of Rome against the eleven, seven and six of Bologna, Milan, for example. Mica little difference!

The bus seemed that I was expected and in fact, when I sat with a strong tug started.

I must reach by Lorenzo Bolano and I know that is in the north of the city. After a few minutes and then ask a lady of sixty, there on the bus, if he could show me some other bus to take to reach that route. "Ascutassi, it's easy! Just get to the femme Etnea, ISSI jug back and Piggie u 25!" - Listen to me. It 's easy! just arrives at Etnea, go ahead and take the 25 - said that lady shaking her palms, her eyes moving to the rhythm of the lips e. .. screaming as if someone had advised, wrongly, that I was deaf . "But peaks Etnea? Nun'è megghiu that SCINNUTA to 431 stations and Piggie u cu port rittu rittu via Bulanu?" -Is it not better to come down to Station and take the 431 which leads him straight away in Bolano? - He asks, crying, another lady at first! "Giustu! Hips u 431 is Bonu. Quannu go!" - Right! 431 is also good. When you pass! - Says the first by suggesting that the time is not respected and not just long and adds "in my Sintissi: u 25 u cunt or terminus and DDA bit piggiari oppuru u 525 u 628. Facie All up!" -I plays: 25 brings to an end and there you can take the 525 or the 628. These are all good! -. With the exception of the 457 all the other buses are not by chance that I mentioned being able to remember exactly the numbers.

"Puvireddu! Chistu stasira comes!" - Poor fellow! this here comes tonight! - Disconsolate cries a man turning his eyes by way of prayer to the roof of the bus and having attracted my attention, calm voice, hoarse and, anyway, always with high volume tells me: "Now she SCINNUTA stations and Piggie u 67. ... " - She now goes to the station and take the 67 ... - "But peak? Peak?" - But why? Why? - Cries the second lady to the Lord who is invested as a curse. U-67 passes for Independence Square and nun !!!!! You never get "turned to me" u ava a piggiari 25 ....."

The bus suddenly, nervously, moves to the right. He stops. "Giovanottoooo! You av'arrivari being Bolano? "cries a little more than a big man in his fifties, about a ton, the driver. I mention a nod. With hand beckons me to wait and trust in him.

As a ruling by the Supreme Court that invitation is also shared by the rest of the passengers with smiles and nods share the decision of the driver.

L ' bus again and the man starts to fumble with your phone. "Pippoooo! Huns? Ddocu motifs "- Pippo where are you? Expect there? - From specchieto beckons me to trust. In bus now there is only a buzz very well tolerated.

few minutes later we arrive at the train station. The 457 comes close to a bus. "Pippooo! Lassalu being Bulanu!" - Goofy! Leave him away Bolano! - Shouts the driver at the link provided me. "Scinnissi and ISSI 'nno colleague!" - Get out and go with fellow -.

thank again thank the man and with a nod to the ladies who responded with a satisfied smile to my greeting.

greet with a nod also to the gentleman who prayed facing the roof of the bus that I bothered to respond as a "Uummh!" and a wave of his hand.

I climb on that bus and the driver asked me: "Just you unn'ava dormouse?" - Exactly where she should go? -. I will list the company's headquarters. After about a quarter of an hour the bus starts to slow down, slowly, more and more, until it stops. "Incoming! Scinnissi" - Arrived! Fall -.

Goofy's hand, the driver tells me the company's headquarters.
A nod and a smile without any premolar is the answer to my "Thank You".

I can not help but notice that where I went down there the bus stop and that the entrance is too close to the company otherwise would be Goofy came up with the bus the door.

One more courtesy of Goofy for me. A courtesy to a person that Pippo did not know before.

Catania is all noise, screaming. Solar noise that disturbs but perhaps that gives warmth. Shout civilians are good for the heart, and no heat

NAUSEA

:-)

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Fairy tales come true

There once was a storyteller who, like all the singers had to play a little mandolin and a little carriage which went around the country.

When he arrived in a country, down from his wagon, sat on a stool and began to play happily. As he played telling fairy tales he had invented, the stories the children's favorite nursery rhymes and all he knew.

But the really great was that while the storyteller told his tales, alongside his bandwagon, seemed a big bubble! Within this large bubble appeared the characters of the tale he was telling!

So sometimes you could see enchanted castles, monsters and other princesses, knights and dragons others, and many more dolls and cuddly bears chubby!

was really wonderful to see the storybook characters come to life inside the bubble, it was a bit 'like watching TV, but at that time, the television did not exist! Everyone was fascinated by the fantastic tales that come true!

When the storyteller had finished his story, the soap bubble, like all bubbles, burst and vanished in a puff characters. The storyteller went back on his bandwagon and go to another country.

The tale he liked most was to tell the princess happy because the princess was very beautiful and all his listeners, and to tell the truth, too, they were in love!

One day, after much wandering, he arrived in a country where the center of the square there was a wishing well ....

-continues in the next post-

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When you grow up! -Always a good time to throw the pacifier-

When you grow up?

always a good time to throw away the pacifier?

Mom says so!!

So here we are with the story for the occasion:

The little boy one day he decided to throw out the pacifier: throw it in the trash FOREVER!

Mom decided it was just the case to accommodate this change and so opened the garbage can, he accompanied his courageous child full of pride and go! The pacifier away forever! In order for there were no second thoughts Brave Mother and Child took the trash bag, bound him tightly and carried him outside, far away in the recycling bin!

Good! Mission accomplished!

But after a few hours Courageous Child ... was not so brave and began to have second thoughts, which soon became a major rethink! So much so that soon became a courageous child Desperate Child Screaming!

The mother was a little 'desperate, but do not lose heart, took her in his arms and told sweet little children Screaming:

"There is a beautiful island, full sun and games, which are sucked pacifiers that are no longer children live happily ever after!

fact, when children get older, their teeth become too big! And suck pacifiers are desperate because while the children will scratch and chew! So when they finally are thrown pacifiers are happy and live together in the island of dummies! "

desperate child and then turned Screaming Child Proud of himself 'and decided it was no longer the case crying! E from that moment on Child lived happily and without any pacifier Pacifier lived happily without a child!

Tetralysal Secondary Effects

There are cities in the world, few actually, to be considered favors how to present themselves to tourists, for how people welcomed him and the host.

Bologna is one of them. Bologna is a wedding favor.

I spent the night of Dec. 31 in Piazza Maggiore, where, on one side, had set up a stage where they played and sang the glories of the nation: Lucio Dalla, the Negroes and a few more of them do not remember but without the name, therefore, do with a disease.

Lucio, keyboard, expressionless, almost bored, superior, in my opinion with the facial expression now paralyzed by massive doses of Botox and sang the songs that have already given the passage of entire eras geological, and behind, projected on a wall of the building, a huge digital clock beat the time, now the few minutes that indicate the approach of the new year.

Less 3, minus 2, minus 1 ........ BEST WISHES!

An explosion of cheers and joy and happiness fills the whole square. A false joy, in my opinion, made of artificial laughter, a false joy because for the New Year's Eve should be happy and joyful and laughing for the event and the event.

the middle of May Square, two major groups of about a hundred people, trying to catch, with success, the attention on them. The first group of North Africans, tusinini, Moroccans, Algerians - as are all the same as uncivilized - the whole world shouting their joy spumantaccio with bottles in their hands, the second made by Sri Lankan or Indian or Mauritian - so are all the same as useless too - was looking for a smile shared by us natives are now disappeared.

To their delight, the jump was followed by a roll of empty bottles, before the middle of the square, then to some window cracked, but it was joy, fun, quell'inarrestabile will to live.

But Bologna no longer seems a wedding favor, no longer is, but I think most of the Medina or Cairo Tunis or Algiers - so are all the same and city sewage -.

a pity!

And then, after the laughter or the laughter, shouting and vomiting and still

NAUSEA

:-)