Clinical deaths and a sunny day
The univeristy radio's morning press overview is just over, me and a friend have been blabbering and quoting and explaining and generally parroting serious people for a couple hours or so.
A Rai International camera team sholud be on its way to the radio sometime very soon, and I really don't know if shit myself, run away, both, or just fake a sudden death as soon as I see a smiling correspondant with a cmameraman behind him/her. Being seen is quite a risk for the scheme I currently cradle in my head, and that would be a doubtlessly impopolar radio programme about unpolitically correctedness and invisible news. I know I'm flattering myself, but here's the other shoe dropping.
News such as Theo Van Gogh's murder, by the way, a declaration of war of sort right in the heart of good ol' multicultural Europe. Nine gunshots, a ritual throat cut and a final stab to pin a note to the body, right in the middle of the fucking street, just like that. Guilty of having ideated and realized an 11-minutes long film about Islamic and Coranic precepts and customs regarding women and patriarchy in the traditional islamic family. It was in a paper yesterday how an entire class of a technical institute - roughly a high school, I suppose - made largely up of north-african students exploded with joy at the news of the murder.
The fact was dismissed by the Italian press in record time. It's unpopolar news, I can give you that. But shouldn't we try to think about it, no matter what the conclusions?
A Rai International camera team sholud be on its way to the radio sometime very soon, and I really don't know if shit myself, run away, both, or just fake a sudden death as soon as I see a smiling correspondant with a cmameraman behind him/her. Being seen is quite a risk for the scheme I currently cradle in my head, and that would be a doubtlessly impopolar radio programme about unpolitically correctedness and invisible news. I know I'm flattering myself, but here's the other shoe dropping.
News such as Theo Van Gogh's murder, by the way, a declaration of war of sort right in the heart of good ol' multicultural Europe. Nine gunshots, a ritual throat cut and a final stab to pin a note to the body, right in the middle of the fucking street, just like that. Guilty of having ideated and realized an 11-minutes long film about Islamic and Coranic precepts and customs regarding women and patriarchy in the traditional islamic family. It was in a paper yesterday how an entire class of a technical institute - roughly a high school, I suppose - made largely up of north-african students exploded with joy at the news of the murder.
The fact was dismissed by the Italian press in record time. It's unpopolar news, I can give you that. But shouldn't we try to think about it, no matter what the conclusions?