Thursday, March 31, 2011

Berlusconi? And the candidate Canadian scompiscia

There are 8 in the evening when the doorbell rings. I open the door and find myself in front of a neighbor who introduced me to the parliamentary candidate of mine and his secretary. If you think this is science fiction do not be surprised, I find myself Bunga Bunga, I live in a suburb of Vancouver, Canada.

The minority government of Stephen Harper was disheartened last Friday and May 2 (38 days after) you go to the polls. We can also vote in advance by mail and, if without the ballot, you may submit to the seat with a driver's license and a bill (there is no ID card). I live in a college contended.

The two parties are all the rage are the conservative and the left (NDP). The liberal center-left and the Greens have little chance in my neighborhood and here we vote with the majority dry English. The NDP candidate Kennedy Stewart called and gave me an invitation card for a reception to be held next Saturday for the official launching of his campaign.

It's drizzling and the air is moist and cool while debating on the doorstep of conservatives and liberals. They spend 5 minutes and end up talking about television and the fact that the NDP has decided not to use "negative ads", messages that throw mud electoral opponent. Moving on to the Venezuela of Hugo Chavez's television and, finally, we move to Europe.

Reveals the fact that I have dual citizenship and voting in Italy. The neighbor says: "Italy? That's cool! "Italy? Beautiful! The candidate adds only two words: "Italy? Berlusconi? "The effect is devastating. The 3 scompisciano you, look at me and laugh. It took the 6 consonants and four vowels of the name "Berlusconi" to unleash the laughs.

They laugh as if, suddenly, they heard a joke by Benigni. My wife comes running as the candidate, the near and the Secretary shall give the pats on the back. They look at me and laugh. Say no more. They look at me, they look and sbellicano. Stunned with a bitter smile and greet them on the lips, I close the door and my wife, worried, asking me if I was wrong: "Did you see how They Were laughing?" You saw how they laughed? Comment and then adds: "How Does That Make You Feel?" How did you get? "I am really proud of it" (I'm really proud) say ironically.

"Really?" Insists incredulous. "Really," I repeat through clenched teeth: to think of it as a country in the world can boast a prime minister so much fun?

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