More than a dozen years ago, wanting for a long time sbattezzarmi, sent to the curia of Catania in a letter which just ask to be removed by the Catholic community (as proof, if proof were needed, that there is nothing spiritual in everything, if you can box with a bureaucratic process). About a week later, the phone rang: "Good evening, are the Archbishop."
A friend, of course, one of many who know how the church hierarchy to hear about me cause hives: "Stop it, asshole!" No, fortunately I did not say and stood still for a few seconds in apnea: the voice did not fit none of my friends ... I was going to say, would be enough in less than a few seconds of reflection.
Indeed it was he, the chief priests, but any sensible person would not fuck off and sent to an irreconcilable conflict between secular and theological issues: just because it's not that happen every day that you phone and tell you a "I am the mayor, are the Archbishop, are the prefect." And if you do not think a joke is you're not normal.
Now, I mean, okay I'm not Berlusconi (and thank goodness, otherwise I would suck on its own) and that it is easier for him to get in touch with the people who matter (even if the only thing that matters is the money be given to the hoes and Scilipoti, then that is the same), but how the fuck can you think that anyone believes the dance of the nephew of Mubarak? Or do you have believed, and then you're a jerk, or she tried to let you believe you are a jerk and the same. Why anyone (anyone other than abuses it though), would give her fifty francs el'avrebbe sent away: girl, go and buy sweets. Or did you think that the Italians could believe it and you're a jerk for the third time, because a lie so you can not even give it to drink to children. Doormats to yes: just stuffed with money and guarantee him a place in Parliament.
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