Yesterday I began to a piece of Year Zero, just enough to be indignant and return to the game. On the one hand I saw Rosy Bindi, who told air-righteous indignation the pit in which Italian politics and public morals have sunk, and he explained the incredible and increasingly grotesque conjuring trick in which Berlusconi and his followers are attacking.
Belpietro other hand, the director of I do not know which newspaper Berlusconi, who with a stupid smile on his face piteously climbed on the mirrors. What struck me were the obvious sophistry and bullshit from peanuts to which the poor relied, but what psychologists call "body language". This ineffable smile of one who knows that is there because he gets paid to say what his boss wants me to say, and probably laughs and smiles at his own arguments why he believes to be more clever than others, because he thinks that the only way to earn a living is sell my ass (metaphorically and literally speaking) and, from this point of view, perhaps even in good faith when he defends the boy, let's say the prostitutes in the rider around.
After all, albeit in a different way, do the same job.
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