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No pain. A history of CasaPound.


Carry a nice phrase from the novel by Domenico Di Tullio: "Because when you have a story and a world to which you belong, a unity of spirit and life so large and deep that nothing can scratch, when you look into his eyes, and without thinking, you acknowledge that the brother next to you smiles slightly before starting a second battle, there is no more fear, no pain no longer remains. "


Goes to explain to various pidiellini and futurist ...

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House of Fini and Berlusconi's underpants. Gianfranco


What a coincidence! On the day that the Public Prosecutor of Rome calls the storage for the Speaker of the House (but Gianfrego speed!) Check yet another investigation sull'ennesima maiden over in the bed of a knight. Where are the beautiful souls that rattle against the bad journalists, manufacturers of files and invaders of privacy? Because it would be lawful and deontoligico spy inside the underpants of the Premier and reprehensible attempt to understand how the President of the Chamber shall be appropriate for a good party for a tribute to his family?
Let's face it: how many of us women trumpet Silvio Berlusconi do not give a shit. Why does with his stuff. Have money or have other requirements. We disturb only the hypocrisy of all those "politically correct" that they never lose opportunity to grind with the safeguarding of the rights of others. The prime minister is an old satyr, the slave of his instincts, sexual scandal, shame, abomination! So what? And if he was gay? They reserved Berlusca the same benevolent and civic tolerance that we would expect against a Vendola, should become prime minister? We
old militant of the Fiamma Tricolore interesting, however, know how good bequeathed to the fascist AN Countess Colleoni is over a settlement price in the availability of in-law of Gianfranco Fini. We are interested because the clause in which the deceased's apartment destined Monaco spoke specifically to "continue the good fight." Colleoni poor countess who, like many other ex-Fascists in 1999 still believed that AN was the successor to the MSI. We know very well as a good battle was referring. And so did Gianfrego. Many have fought that battle and wanted to continue to fight, he instead has fought another of its own, very personal and indecent. And unfortunately he won.

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Rabbit

I leave behind the sweltering summer of the plains Cuneo going by car to the highway 22 of the Valley Maira. E 'afternoon, and I have only one goal. I proceed to fifty an hour, looking for a starting point for a visit.

Lottulo to stop the car and go down to read the inscription entrance of the village, "heroic defense of the valley suffered extermination and destruction and looting in May 1551 fire in January 1553 passed a feud the Joy of Asti 1601. Until that date, the confederation of the upper valley, which was the first town Lottulo had managed to defend its independence from the expansion of the Duchy of Savoy.

Allocation and immediately slow down to watch on my left, two villages. Take a dirt road to reach them.

Pass the first, the architecture is not interesting. The second one I saw attracts a fresco on the facade of a house.

got out, I realize with surprise that the village is deserted: an old is sitting on our doorstep. I walk towards him, greeted him and I told him that I am interested in popular painting in the mountains.

- You see this area - I responds with a long strip of land - once the hay and wanted to cut it all by himself. Now do not take it anymore. Mica wants to buy it? I sell him, if she wants, so my daughter does the traffic warden in Saluzzo.

- No, thanks. But you live here alone?

- There is also my younger brother, he lives in another house, there behind.

I move away in that direction, with the excuse of the fresco. Wandering among the houses, I run into old brother. His hands are bloody.

- I just killed a rabbit.

- you live here?

- Yes, it's just more me and my brother. Once a country full of people. Do you think we had asked to have a pastor, has been one hundred and fifty years ago. The other village on the most wanted, and at the end they gave it to them.

seems that stories made personally experienced. Maybe it's a character like Gioan Pittadè: many called the cobbler of the four money from other, more cultured, identified with the wandering jew, the valley is said to be an old man of a thousand and eight hundred years, can not sit, or sleep, or stop for more than three days in the same place. Every morning he found four coins in his pocket, which must spend or give to the poor to reappear the next day.

- mica But we have not given up - takes the man - We went down to Dronfield pharmacy to buy some rat poison, we have invited the new pastor at dinner one evening and we have poisoned.

He pauses, and I do not say anything, his hands fixed.

- Then we have buried, and that was it. You know, here the law does not.