My First Premonitory Communiqué
from the Horrendously Enfeebled Italy
My distinguished reader, Italy is in a tsunami state of mind. And while the waves are rumbling closer to shore, Italians are fighting amongst themselves about the number of sandbags they should order to fortify their dry land. Noodle-headed economists are "praying" for an economic "miracle" (bailout); depraved politicians are vying to fill the upcoming leadership void set to be occupied by another demagogue with the manners of a Southamerican caudillo. Italy cannot be "rescued." Nor is it anymore falling apart. It has already fallen asunder! These reasons come to my mind:
I
Italy is excruciatingly provincial-minded.
Quod erat demonstrandum: It is anti-European Union.
II
Italy is "professionally" hateful.
Quod erat demonstrandum: It is anti-conformist.
III
Italy is disgustingly wasteful.
Quod erat demonstrandum: It knows not how to survive.
IV
Italy is irredeemably corrupt.
Quod erat demonstrandum: It is unreliable.
V
Italy is obsessively concerned with form.
Quod erat demonstrandum: It is slightly substantive.
VI
Italy is drawn-out.
Quod erat demonstrandum: It is forever in arrears.
VII
Italy is prisoner of its Past.
Quod erat demonstrandum: It is anti-progressive.
VIII
Italy is anti-scientific.
Quod erat demonstrandum: It is comically—nevertheless mostly tragically—irrational.
IX
Italy is intolerant.
Quod erat demonstrandum: It is gnawingly crestfallen.
X
Italy is "politically" Roman Catholic.
Quod erat demonstrandum: Its churches are almost always empty on Sundays.
Italy was a protagonist in
The Age of World War I.
Italy was a prime mover in
The Age of World War II.
Will Italy herald in
The Age of Suicide?
After all, more than one Roman chose death over exile.
Have a nice nightmare,
Western Civilization I
& Western Civilization II!
A Lament for Europe
Land of the Setting Sun
Caldron simmering in hungering desperation
To regain the smacks of the Past.
You seek to lunge ahead
On the energy of Your logic
And hopes not yet lionized.
You call upon Your histories
To lend strength to Your phantasies.
You coil up hard on Your proud self
Wrinkled and weather-beaten.
You struggle to nurture new flowers
On the dry rot of Your haunted memories.
Your youth, sniffed upon by strapped canine squads,
Rape-hate in Your stadiums
Striped with electronic rejoinders
To press softly-pliant, gaily-tinged plastic buttons.
Your elderly curl their ways to bankrupt health ministries
Where physicians fool with forms
And fill in football pools.
Your neighbors to the East—
Brazen, sordid—
Yank towards You
Roughly extracting for exacting theirs craved for.
You, Europe, sit pickled—
Soused in the juices of Your scummy heretofore.
Your dabblers in politics set flags unfurled
And their powers shame—
Shame!—
This Our world.
Cordially...
ASJ
* * *
Authored by Anthony St. John
1 January MMXII
Casella Postale 38
50041 CALENZANO FI
Italia
Voice & Fax: 0558873228
Cellphone: 3356047381
Blog: www.scribd.com/thewordwarrior
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