are in Rome and are particularly nervous.
Then read the blog "dde left" becomes fun activity that allows me to vent a bit 'bile. Specifically, all those who have decided that the class is not water, and that the Berlusconi affair business gossippara Letizia is just vulgar and unworthy of the attention that they deserve instead of issues such as the drift of galaxies. That gentlemen are born, we left the nabbimo, and these things we talk to the hairdresser (who, the hairdresser, even though we left, makes the populace, and many set is simp v v v and distinguishes sene, eg v ca v ity ). And then that horror
Republic, but what's that, journalism? No one talks about something pallosissimo is sex and Carnazza, and psychopathology, and I'm so blase that I have to put the protections in the nostrils, too sensitive to deal with anything other than geopolitics in Latin America. Losing
usual opportunity to capture the key point.
The fact is that for the first time in years, a national daily newspaper you are exercising in a noble art misunderstood: the fact-checking . And he's doing it on an episode that the whole nation follows. (The horror, are passionate about sex and Carnazza, instead of the last performances of Ascanio Celestini with the flag bearers of Marostica and Fura dels Baus ... but we think?)
dde But we left it is not well, because the noble art of fact-checking should be applied only to topics nobles. Losing
usual opportunity to capture the key point.
That the real issue is not who Berlusconi is trumpet, but if you mind or not about it. (Eeeh, come on, do not retreat out of the investigation by Kenneth Starr, for those are American Puritans, and then see that finally had the crisis that have both?) (1)
But no, it needs to be even well to oust this evil from his seat. That
manginobrioche want to win talking about politics. (What there is more "political" a state official who continues to lie to the citizens of that state is not clear, but must deal with the unstable equilibrium of the Caucasus.)
So what is, manginobrioche. Introduce yourself tomorrow in front of Palazzo Grazioli and challenge him, nobly and gallantly, slapping him with a glove. Then, as you roteate sword and he pulls out a gun as Indiana Jones, happy that you, the populace, there we are never mixed. And even on his death will be able to grasp the crux.
Son boast.
(1) position shared by Tremonti and manginobrioche
