Guess who's back? No, not Eminem. He's an inordinately rich young man who sings about the hardships of working class life and admittedly hates his own mother. His credibility and authoritativeness are thus next to nil. I, on the other hand, am a cretin with no desire to pass myself off as anything different. You can take me at face value. And that has to count for something, in this world of constant camouflage and deceit.
I know at least one of my readers (I'm optimistically assuming that I have more than one...) has been clamouring for more of the delirious nonsense I provide with this blog, so here goes.
I've been wondering what I was going to write about, while rifling a bag of crisps for the last morsel of high-fat, artery-clogging deliciousness, and finally it came to me. I read something on Facebook, just a random comment, nothing particularly clever or insightful. And that's exactly the beauty of social networks: they bring back common sense in human interaction. While the mainstream media pump us full of useless information and preposterous points of view, a conversation on Facebook is very likely to stay sane and relevant to people's experience and day-to-day reality.
June 2 is a national holiday in Italy. We call it "Festa della Repubblica", because on that day in 1946 the Italian people decided with a referendum that post-fascist Italy was to be a republic, not a kingdom, as it had been up to that point. It is customary to celebrate this day with a military parade. However, in the past few weeks Northern Italy has been hit hard by two earthquakes, which have left thousands of people homeless or unemployed. In the current circumstances, with the state coffers seriously depleted by the financial crisis we are going through, it seemed natural to a lot of people that the parade should be called off, and the funds meant for it used to relieve the suffering of the people affected by the calamity. Petitions were made and sent to the President of the Republic, the Italian head of state (though not the head of the government, as we have a parlamentary system). The President, a senescent snob whose complete disregard for common people's ideas and feelings is only surpassed by his love of pompous rhetoric, said no. The parade holds a particular symbolic value, apparently.
And now, for some of the common sense I mentioned above. Regardless of one's cultural background and philosophical convictions, nobody in 2012 is entertained or cheered by watching soldiers march down a street. Not in this country, at least. If you're looking for an Italian military victory of some significance, you need to go back to World War I, when we lost about a million people for just over the acreage of a golf course. Well, yes, we had the Roman Empire. Since then, people of all sorts of creed, colour and geographical provenance have invaded the Italian peninsula, pillaged our cities, towns and villages, drunk our wine and had their way with our women. Mussolini looked pretty smug when he thrust his chest out, promising we would break Greece's back; trouble is, you need firearms in modern warfare, and they're not much use if they backfire in your face half the time. Even if we consider the comic potential of such inefficient armed forces, you must convene that spending precious resources, much needed elsewhere, on a parade is a questionable choice, when I can log on to Youtube and tank up on Monty Python for nothing.
So, where is the symbolic value our President stressed in his statement? Exactly in the futility of the parade itself. Europe is changing, and not for the better. We need to get accustomed to the bitter taste of the medicine we will be taking over the next few decades. "You peasants toe the line, and don't you dare question our decisions. We're going to have our parade, like it or lump it". That's what the old fart's saying. Earthquake victims can wait. Now watch our brave boys march, and sing the anthem. Or don't. But I really hope you won't have the temerity to suggest what we should do with your taxes. Fine, I get it, you're pissed off. Well, vent your anger on Facebook, or maybe a blog. Just stay off my pretty little soldiers. Don't rain on my parade.
