Beppe Grillo's Blog

Sex

“Il se..ss..sso” {sex} the one with four “s”s, a bit breathy, like they speak in Emila, a bit like the slut (sòcmel!), is using its red light mantle to cover everything. We have transformed ourselves into a people of peeping-toms. A perverse daily pleasure, a continual erotic stimulus to be satisfied. Anyone who doesn’t fuck is lost. As is whoever fucks too much. I have not yet found an old man who would not go on foot from Rome to Trieste to do “bunga bunga” with Ruby, minor or non-minor, prison or no prison. In the bars, they are not engaging in political commentary and about the economy even less than a little bit. They are talking about the tits or arse of one of the girls of the day. Of the prostitutes‘ market transformed into the Football players’ market, “I don’t think that’s worth two thousand … For that one I’d pay three times the rent if I had the money … A mini for a blowjob is an exaggerated price …. – however … “. They are giving an analysis with professional precision, in the middle of a brioche and a cappuccino, in the midst of a Campari and a Pernod, the day’s sadomasochism described explicitly by top journalists transformed into gynaecologists and experts on the colon. Those practices that they never managed to get accepted by their own lifetime partner. Anyway it’s still the same one. In the country, there’s a feeling of individual envy in relation to an old man who has had a prostrate operation, with no hair left on his head, who in any Western country would be seated on a park bench feeding birdseed to the pigeons or behind bars. “Il Corriere” and “la Repubblica” seem like the Italian version of Playboy. Sex has become the yardstick for everything. The goddess Circe transformed men into pigs by deception, today there would be a queue to be allowed to root about in the manure with an “escort”. The booting out of a philanderer for excessive doses of whores is a paradox, an Italian record. It’s the equivalent to the deposition of Mussolini for an excess of fascism or the imprisoning of Rockefeller for an excess of capitalism. We have gone from the pages discussing judicial proceedings to the pages discussing sex. The scene of crazy satyrs bunged full of Viagra and with the papaverine injections on the apex of the penis is the authentic representation of this country. Of an Italy that for decades has stood and watched the disappearance of democracy. Passive and not Active in its every way of relating with Power, of an Opposition transformed into the Madame of the Arcore brothel. How many prostitutes are writing in the newspapers or are voting in Parliament? They have not sold their bodies but the dignity of a country that has gone whoring.

Berluscoma 2010 (DVD)
The sunset of the Second Republic as told by Marco Travaglio
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An homeless, slim kid steals a bag of peanuts. Shopkeepers and passersby give chase. A burly, well-dressed man apprehends him and slams him, face- first, onto the sidewalk. "Stealing is not allowed!" he screams in the kid's bloodied face. Pinned to the ground and surrounded by a small mob swearing and yelling at him, the kid starts crying, fearing for his life. Finally, a policeman arrives, shoves the crowd aside, gives the kid a hand to get up and walks him amid a fist-waving crowd to the police car. The hard-working, respectable people are right: no stealing!

The hard-working people love Silvio. They elected him as their Prime Minister. It was a landslide victory. Who is Silvio? Silvio owns newspapers, television stations, twenty palaces, money invested in all kinds of activities, too many to list. No Italian is richer than him. Mind you, nobody knows exactly how he became so rich. He was (and probably still is) a member of a secret, rogue Mason organization aiming to subvert the Italian political system. He had ties to Mafia members and his right-hand man was found guilty of Mafia association. He conducted deals with disgraced Prime Minister Craxi who fled Italy lest the law threw him into the slammer. The judge found Silvio, the Prime Minister, guilty of corrupting one of his money-counters, he is indicted for a myriad of illicit business activities, tax evasion, money laundrying, ownership of secret banks, you name it: he has been there, done that. Yesterday, his good-time-Charlie personality went viral: Silvio's Orgies Revealed, Bunga Bunga Silvio, Silvio and the Maroccan Kid, Silvio's Harem, Wild Nights, Wild Parties headlined media around the world. And all for Ruby. The eighteen-year-old Maroccan knockout who Silvio prizes at his dinner table. In fact, he is so fond of her that last fall he personally called police to have the then seventeen-year-old released after she had been caught for petty thievery. But Ruby's age and the unusual caller tipped police off that something was rotten in the Italian state. They tapped Ruby's phone conversations with her parents, friends and procurers and lo-and-behold a world everyone suspected existed was confirmed. In the middle of the night when decent Italians are sound asleep, young lasses, -more or less- decently dressed tip-toe to the mogul's secret cave and, one at a time, are initiated to the the African ritual bunga bunga. As each lass consumates the secret ritual they exit a door where the mogul's money-man stands and hands them a white envelope each. And, as dawn breaks on the expansive green lawns and ancient oaks on the estate, rows of Audis with blackened windows snake out of the wide open iron gate headed to the harem where rent is cheap. Later in the day, under the stare of the "golden madonnina" atop Milan's cathedral, the indefatigable mogul steps on the Audi's running and addresses an enraptured oceanic crowd of hard-working, respectable Italians: the great leader watches over them.

Posted by: Louis Pacella | January 20, 2011 12:54 AM