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St. Paul, at the supermarket: I do not think this story has the power of the trilogy scarcelliana. In this regard, my ranking to first place the episode of incontinence that old house phone to use the toilet, use it and leave without cleaning. The second plots in the Galician Shaman and his dog, Map, third, with the rasta cards esoteric. I state that during the months of silence to me has happened to the first episode, starring a portly plumber with flames tattooed on his neck that has taken control of my cabinet, forcing then to leave the windows open for a whole day outside -15 ° C . But I prefer the following account for its social context. They are in the queue at the supermarket, I'm putting the expenditure on the tape when you hear a scream. The cashier dying down suddenly. More screams, people pushing in line, someone escapes. A black man runs towards the exit and is hounded by two vigilantes who pinned him. In a second, a dozen committed around him. Silence. People do not understand, someone goes away leaving the travel packages. The cashier finishes to beat the prices and closes the case. Black is brought to the scene of the accident. I go there too, along with the usual curious hampering relief efforts. On land there is in the midst of a South American lame broken glass and trash. Not far away is a shopping cart with a few packages of hot dogs, beer e una fila di gratta e vinci. Un paio di commessi cercano di sollevare lo zoppo, ma quello si ostina a rimanere a terra, piagnucolando e tenendosi la gamba. In mezzo ai cocci c’è il cestino della spesa con delle bottiglie in frantumi e una piccola pozza. Lo riconosco: mentre arrancava, non mi era passato inosservato perchè oltre ad avere la gamba sinistra storta e più corta della destra, è pure fortemente strabico. Un monumento all’asimmetria, non c’è niente di dritto nel suo corpo. Il nero viene portato di fronte allo zoppo e comincia il battibecco. È evidente che lo zoppo sta simulando peggio di Lulù Oliveira, ma ha dalla sua l’invalidità e vuole ricavare qualcosa. Non si capisce niente di quello che dicono, but the trend is clear. The lame man was passing next to the shelves with Christmas ornaments when the black on his right check with the truck and hit him in the good leg. The lame man collapses against the shelf, pulling down everything. Black guess that will have to pay much more than hot dogs and beer, and that the scratch cards will not help. So get away, abandoning the truck. Everyone thinks in a robbery and the melee broke out. In addition to the damage, the man must answer for alarm procured and will pay much more than they think. From now on, the lame will go around with their legs X. Here, the supermarket is a mirror of social inequality and exhibition for the entire distance between rich and poor, whites, blacks and Hispanics. There are two types of bread, the one box that costs about $ 3 a pack, and the bread in bulk, virtually for free. The bread is tipped loose in big baskets and the people to choose what it feels like, literally strappandoselo hand. With each new arrival around the basket is an incredible crowd. The last loaves are a concentration of fingerprints and dirt. Some scenes reminiscent of the supermarkets in Prague on a trip to the fourth higher Tronconi when you make a sandwich made with the last, lonely bread basket of post-communist and post-separation. Heroic and heroic Tronconi the loaf to challenge the e-coli in the name of the deceased ideal. In America, which produces too much food, which must throw it, burn it, sell it or turn it into diesel, the bread in bulk is the most popular, along with the scratch and spirits. How would Teo, who has teeth has no bread and who has bread has no teeth. But it is always those who have no bread to buy the scratch cards. Today I read in Time that Minnesota is the second most healthy and with the highest welfare of the United States. Counting the number of obese and fights among beggars that you see around, I wonder what it means to live in Louisiana or in Missouri, two states that occupy the last position. I'm thinking that after all the Galician Shaman is much more interesting than finding a less than friendly to the supermarket between a lame that breaks down four pieces of junk and a black Christmas afraid that if he goes home with a Moscovich with drum brakes. I was hoping the foul deed, in the Mess. What a disappointment.

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Sbilanci alimentari

Admundson Hall, room 385: rather than the content, my presentation will be remembered for the amount of junk food paid on the conference table. It never happened that a group meeting (report of experimental work in front of teachers and classmates) were held the day before Thanksgiving bridge. Normally, the week will be skipped so that someone can be absent. This year, however, none of the group returns home to enjoy turkey Lanny and jam and had a commitment last week, so that my discusisone was scheduled two days before the holidays. Education and practice require that the speaker assumes responsibility for the refreshments. The presentation must first entertain: the audience watches movies with attitude rather than a conference, munching peanuts and drinking coca-cola through a straw, spreading his feet against the seat in front. But the participation is active, the questions measuring the levels of customer satisfaction, exposure and ultimately becomes a debate last an hour and a half. What transforms a libation in my presentation is the period. The feast of Thanksgiving corresponds to a kind of fair balance Gourmet and the food is on every supermarket offering pay two get one . $ 3 to buy a pound of M & M, big ones with the peanut and not fake ones with nothing. $ 1 for two bottles of coca cola 2 liter each, $ 2 and a half liters of 4 tropical juice, chips, bags of recycling, are priceless. The local specialty is called beagle (like the dog) and the group meeting should not be missed. It consists of a donut bread candy that is cut in half, stuffed with cheese, strawberry, wild berries or the honey and served fresh from the oven. Avoid adding the chopped meat, mustard or mayonnaise, the beagle is good. The shop is just below the beagle the department and is a rule to pick up a dozen before the speech. Although there is no supply and the baker sends me away with a score of beagle and a thermos of hot coffee on which he wrote a marker for the brew crew . I have to almost fight to exit the store with less food than they want to give me, including a bowl of cheese currants on the house that puts a betrayal in the envelope. The result is that I speak before an audience that strafoga. Lanny shows off his hand and assists child slumped in his chair with a big glass of orange juice as it is sinking in the hand bag of chips rustic. He put aside the beagle, stuffed with carefully placed on a canary yellow tablecloth. Other tropical juice drink while outside there is a snowstorm. It's all right and I seem to be the lunch of communion with relatives bent on broth, until the data-which drew controversy. Lanny makes a face like Monica Lewisky with the Invisible Man. Then he coughs, the rustic's goes through. The debate comes on, I'm with the cynicism of my Danish friend and I do not believe what I measured myself. But Lanny is magnetic. Disassemble the complex with the ease with which a child strives with Lego. Gets excited, he has within himself the emotional side of science. He asked us if his ideas are correct, despite working for more than forty years on those topics. He gets up goes to the blackboard scribbles, sits down again e analizza. A volte beve una sorsata dal bicchierone. Quando la discussione finisce, mi chiede se può prendere i beagle che restano e il formaggio da spalmare. Mi chiede il permesso, che uomo. Davvero sta diventando il mio eroe personale. Non so se sia reale, di certo è umano e molto più vivo di tutti noi. In mancanza di una sua foto, metto quella di Norman, che è nel mio Olimpo ormai da molti anni. P.S. Norman ti vedo in forma... L'hai ritoccata con Acrobat? Non mi sembri lo stesso che è stato avvistato ubiraco in canottiera in una notte gelida nei pressi di Cuneo. Qui radio fante ha detto così, aspetto la smentita.

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save on heating tips and little tricks

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La TPU

Amundson Hall, 432: rantolo, fulmine, scocca avrebbe scritto Pratolini per una storia d'amore conclusa amaramente. Invece è la TPU110 millesimata '75. Comincia a rantolare, ma stavolta preoccupante, gutturale. Tendiamo l'orecchio, il rantolo diventa raschio, scocca una scintilla e la TPU si spegne con una fiamma arancione dal lato del controllore. Ascoltiamo il ronzio che muore senza la grinta di Symplicius. Questo un mese e mezzo fa. Scopriamo che la TPU110 è obsoleta e non ci sono parti di ricambio, almeno negli Stati Uniti. Ma esiste una comunità di tecnici in grado di ripararla. Si contano sulle dita di una mano, si conoscono tutti e all'unanimità decidono per noi che la TPU va spedita in Arizona dove verrà riparata per 1300$. Con 200$ in più è incluso il trattamento di urgenza e la riavremo in una settimana. Già pregustiamo la pompa refurbished . Dopo una settimana, silenzio. Deve arrivare il kit , quello delle giovani marmotte, immagino: il kit c'è, ma bisogna rispettare i tempi di consegna della compagnia che lo fornisce. Le settimane diventano due. Appena arriva il kit, tempo tre giorni e la turbo torna come nuova. Alle terza settimana serpeggia il nervosismo. Il kit è arrivato, ma il tecnico non si fa sentire. Chiamate quotidiane non servono a niente. Entriamo nella quarta settimana e mi viene voglia di chiamare Picchio. Why do not we call Woodpecker? With $ 1,500 we pagarglielo the plane, the Host me free (I leave the bed and I sleep on the couch), with a collection of eight we cover the exit. Woodpecker could already imagine how quickly talk to the excitement of a trip to Minneapolis, a whirlwind of words that even a linotypist be able to govern. At the end of the fourth week, the call comes. "I just returned from New Orleans. TPU110 The stuff is fair, now no longer even the repair. We have sent to Boston to see if they can balance it, but it is very difficult." The man is elusive. I understand later. In New Orleans, I say, there you go, or for Mardi Gras or brothels. Whereas the relevant week is Halloween, the technical and TPU110 went to hell. He came back whole, brothels insatiable sbeffegiatore and gluttons, gluttony that escapes easy to follow virtue for vice. The TPU back to pieces a week later. Already I see misbehaving children who put their fingers everywhere in the stands of the machines yet. Already a dad pretended authority will ask the seller to turn on improbable performance of scrap. TPU circus. But Lanny cellar is full of treasures. It no longer matters, the money comes back. We install a fully functional model used for the experiments that Lanny UV. TPU 070 vintage "'71. And this runs with the grim Rocky Marciano, con la grinta del Grinta quando gioca a pallavolo e chi perde paga.

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I support the UofM workers

St. Paul, St. Anthony Park: per l'ultima di campionato, partita serale. Giochiamo contro la sesta, noi siamo quarti ed entrambe le squadre sono fuori dalla lotta playoff. Rimango in panchina, ovvero mi allineo a bordocampo in abiti borghesi e calzino da ragioniere d'ordinanza. Lascio spazio alla giovane promessa della squadra, un post doc coreano 35enne le cui progressioni offensive sono temibili quanto quelle di Raimondo Vianello nella Partita del Cuore. Mentre il virgulto arranca in fascia, commento con l'allenatore: scarliga merluss che l'è minga el to uss , come m'ha insegnato l'EnricoDell'Officina (tutto attached) and the coach looks at me as if I had blasphemed all the saints and insulted his mother. The merluss scarliga who I am and I'm leaving the audience, composed of the janitor and the janitor Tim retired Hank. Frida is missing and I explained that with the cold weather arrives in Minneapolis, there are few shelters really equipped. In exchange, you give a ticket to Chicago where the cold polar is like here and the appropriate structures. Someone does not come back from Chicago and a pair of local homeless people reported missing or more likely killed by the cold. But Frida has a known location and respects every year, so all the waiting to spring. There is turmoil in the environment of janitors because of a strike with a vengeance. The staff of the University of Minnesota asks for an increase of 3% of salary (I think) and vistoselo deny, has called a strike that began two weeks ago. The strike is in a round of 4 or 5 workers running with small signs that read workers on strike. Nothing more, have alternating not to leave the service. Along with me, Tim and Hank (if he stops doing so, I send a picture because I think that goes to the same barber Tilli Romero) is associated with the discussion of B **, my fellow PhD. It does not seem to agree with them and to my great surprise answer: "But why not change jobs? If a job you do not like the changes." I did not want to do polemica, ho solo risposto una cosa banale. Ho soltanto detto che non era assolutamente vero, che penso che uno faccia il bidello per necessità perchè pulire la merda non proprio è un lavoro da leccarsi le dita, ti deve essere in qualche modo capitato. E che se non lo cambiano è perchè forse con tutta l'immigrazione che c'è qui la società di pulizie fa prima a licenziarli e a prendere un altro in coda. Apriti cielo. Il bidello in pensione Hank ha i lucciconi agli occhi e la faccia di uno che mi incita a daghelo dur . Tim non ha parole dal piacere, mi dirà poi in separata sede che quando voglio mi viene a fare le pulizie in casa per un prezzo di favore. E no, il clientelarismo a Botteghe Oscure non lo vogliamo più, I'm tempted to respond to my dear friend Tim, used modern paradigm. Instead, I agree for a good cleaning and $ 20 in many regards. Other than yachts and cashmere sweaters, this bucket and broom. As a reward for the Jacobin inspiration I get a gray pin that says "I support the UofM Workers." I do not think I said anything to rebel or to have set fire to the powder. At the end of game-Han Choi-Vianello is exhausted. We lost again, slipped to fifth place and prepare for the indoor championship and the barricades against the owners of cleaning companies.

the picture Tilli Romero, known in these parts for the resemblance to Hank, separate shirt and jacket.

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Il diritto alla demonizzazione

Admundson Hall, Room C85: the demonization of the right is a right? Of course not, but it's a lot of fun to practice. My professor of philosophy said that we must not be racist with racist because democracy exists and works well thanks to the people who continually try to destroy it, thus reminding us of what its value. Witty paradox that she attributed to Von Humboldt, and which we attributed to confusion between the right to dissent and shooting against the scapegoat of the moment. When the fifth day of the Ulitmate fell on him a rotten egg thrown from the cabinets on the fourth floor, we all thought alla mano di Dio. Qui a Minneapolis la questione è simile. C’è un grosso dibattito sulla possibilità che l’etanolo possa contribuire in maniera sostanziale al raggiungimento di obiettivi energetici e ambientali (la sostituzione di una quota significativa di energia provienente da fonti non rinnovabili e la riduzione delle emissioni di gas serra). La produzione di etanolo è sostenibile e per questo appetibile sotto molti aspetti, non ultimi quelli politici. La questione si articola su tre punti: il calcolo del parametro NEV (Net Energy Value), il calcolo del volume di CO2 emesso dalla combustione di etanolo rapportato a quello emesso dai combustibili tradizionali e il bilancio economico dei sistemi che producono etanolo. Il parametro NEV indica if the production of entanolo need more energy from renewable sources as much ethanol that it provides. If it is greater than one, production is cheap, if not unfeasible. NEV is a paramter energy and does not take into account the quality of ethanol produced, nor the need (historic?) To find alternative sources to fossil fuels. To give weight to its meaning just think that the production of electricity has a much lower NEV but no one would question the need to produce electricity. In any case, are two schools of thought and are distinguished by the number of parameters taken into account: those obtained from the calculation NEV than 1 and support the production of ethanol and those that compute NEV and less than an adversary. The first school here in the hard core Minneaopolis and practically all the professors have sided in favor. Opposites come mostly from Berkley. After ten lessons in the course of Renewable Energy in which the teacher demonstrates all the ways that ethanol agrees that in addition to burn should drink it after that manifests before the House stunned that the calculation of the faction deniers' is wrong, after that reveals the fraud and gives us brainwashed by arguing that what pasionaria are depriving us of a new and fairer world, after that, thanks to assistance from other teachers will show you one thousand alternative techniques to produce all the organic chemistry, for called level playing field to talk an opponent. Professor P *** choose c. I do not know what was the reason that led the professor to give a person a meal infeorcita audience. Sadism I guess. I know two things: first, that man can understand his stubbornness P *** ce, the second, who was not involved in the days of self-hour of insults. AP c *** is allowed to argue its case for an hour and a half. The situation worsened when he asks if there are any questions. The session lasts an hour and it is provocative, picky, silly questions and bad, few good ones. Each response takes the disapproval, the barricaderi arm themselves with the calculator and offenses, *** P c should not come out alive from the floor. I'm with c. P *** Not because it is attached to a miserable NEV or something that others think is a mistake, I'm with him because he does not give hope. And stubbornly denies categorically: there is no way to replace fossil fuels with renewable ones, if not so inconvenient. Ironically the professor contends that the Stone Age did not end for lack of stones. *** P c claims to the contrary, the age of fossil fuels will eventually lack of fossil fuels, or because environmental problems are so urgent that it can not be fail to stop. *** P c I like it because it is human: his theory is that persevere until the evidence or the constraint does not force us to finish it. He adds that it may be too late if the earth's temperature will be too. *** P c I like it because it reminds us how essential it is to each his own selfishness and if they can not do without, even on a planetary scale. Perseverance is essential. It reminds me of the opening of eight and half in which the nurse reading a newspaper titled "Who will think of my five children?" The protagonist asks, "What prepares us looking for another film without hope?" But most of all , P c *** I like it because once again made me experience the phenomenon dell'immedesimazione in the crowd, since all insult insult too, although I would have every reason not to. For example, I Pagliuca has always been friendly but when he played against Bologna in San Siro, with Rena and Ste spent a whole lot to sing that Pagliuca mom gave oral performance to the fans. Pagliuca made four goals, one of Ganz on his ass. In the last self-study group that participated was called "A Moment of insult to" every day when he was elected a scapegoat object of insults: they thought the insults, in the great democracy we chose them and then started a download crazy on the poor. The best was the attempt to kill the P **** C ***** s squeeze a lemon on me, shouting "Die, mussel," from which sprang a blockbuster for a year so that anyone who drinks in hand lemon slices or lemon in the cocktail was trying to kill the C ***** s. Then, with great nostalgia I think c *** P has just the mother pig. *** P c, that you pass under the trestle that Marco Camenisch has just cut and falls upon you. *** P c I know that the sleep of reason produces your eco-monsters. I know you're the eco-monsters Dr. Frankenstein, who enjoys assembling condominiums-henhouse in the name of a general anti-environmentalism, I know you have a bunch of outcasts from the study of architects Fucsas that design for you in Punta Perotti barracks. *** P c in the next assault on the bay of Campese will be there for you too. *** P c poison the waters, make pacts with the devil, you're the emblem of unauthorized. Your theory will go the way of Scheletrone Palmaria. I'm sure.

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Minneapolis, my house because of a storm, every game of last Sunday have been postponed. The occasion is perfect to enjoy the good journalism that offers the Minnesota Daily, the shelter of the communist conspiracy that exploits the information at the international level. I would therefore ask all our readers a couple of articles in which the conspiracy obvious and dangerous. Following a shootout between rival gangs with one dead and two injured right here in Saint Paul, those communists Herald Tribune questioning the Second Amendment and the right of every American citizen to own firearms. Attack to join up those Jacobins of the Star Tribune, backed by the Bolsheviks of the New York Times and the Daily Mirror trozkisti. Only bulwark against the distortion of truth, the Minnesota Daily offers the Elzevir " Everyone Should own a gun for protection and possibly for suicide." The opininista TS writes with the soul and not as a hired servant of the Stalinist hack power or a rival of the newspapers. Its strength is that every citizen has the duty to defend himself and his family in case of danger. I do not know whether it has in the garden of the tripod machine gun against all non-EU hovers in the range of 50 meters, but says with a hint of complacency that we must protect the rights of thieves, robbers and murderers with the law of surplus scam self-defense. So far, his views are hackneyed and may be fine for an episode or dell'Antipatico analysis of Del Debbio. But, the man is exceeded and that philosophy does not even Vattimo, the other half dell'elzeviro analyzes the possibility of suicide. The gun is flexible, it is not only a duty but gives rights. Of course, it is not a free country, a country where suicide is considered a homicide and suicide is a murderess, but the right to have a weapon by far resolves the issue, since a shot .45 caliber is more effective than a dip in the fifth plan (which is not all Americans be given, having generally houses one or two floors) and ensures that no one else can go for half, erasing the possibility of doing harm to others than to themselves. In fact, TS would not draw my attention if he had not given their best in a short phrase, carelessly written towards the end of the article. The gun, it says, is the only means acceptable in the case of euthanasia. At first I did not noticed. I almost throw away the newspaper, then I reread it and I decided to subscribe. I'm not joking: euthanasia pulp I had never heard. I think immediately Welby ... a firing squad for the poor man, no longer the injection, but a volley of lead. Pannella and Capezzone ending in shots semiautoatica the patient paralyzed in bed. Riddled like a sieve. A bloodbath in the name of right to sweet death. TS writes what? The truth, that the Communists wanted to cover up with their scams? Confirmation that the Minnesota Daily is not afraid of anything or anyone comes a few weeks later. Finally someone has the courage to attack minorities and over-protection against them: "Small Town Holds Annual Gay Shame Parade " banged on the front page. Home. The town of Grand Plains, Nebraska celebrated every year on the day against homosexuals. Other than pride, transgender people dancing in Corso Venezia, Cupids sixty ultra thong that firing arrows in d 'Love the crossing with the gardens of Via Palestro, mica here do not mess around, I'll sing without fear on all frustoni just trying to pass for the highway. Every year in the town held a parade against homosexuality, with throwing objects at the puppets and election of three grades more representative. This year he won the chariot of the Reverend Fred Brandeen, entitled "The Burn in Eternal Flames of Hell" but the result is a liar, because second place is the wagon "No Son of Ours", in which a father pointed the finger at the deviatissimo teenage son while the mother cries in shame. Try to bring the debate Sgarbi-Cecchi Paone, or even just watching an episode of The Time Machine. There are people who have the courage to say what they think of Grand Plains and culatun not tolerate them. The article says that this good now thirty years old tradition is also an opportunity to enjoy the tasty food and has become in effect a cornerstone of the local culture and identity. Long live the traditions that the Communists want to delete. I would like to see the effect of which is run between the angry mob a copy of the bestselling book by Aldo Busi "You have to have the balls to take in the ass" with a photo of the back or play at full volume spare Cristiano Malgoglio soloist with the removable radio Fuina of the eighties, or submit the reverend in an episode of Good Friday with Platinette. Rena, Ste, Scar, Mic, tips and Faith are warned, there is an obligatory stop on the tour of the States and to bring the material. And be warned all those communists that allow us to sign articles for the Courier and the Sun 24 hours here in the Midwest not joking at all.

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Sparizioni

Amundson Hall, office 432, the student must appear before the office door. Find a business: back in 15 min. Sits on the sofa in faux leather and waits. Sometimes it goes over his notes, he flipped through a magazine, send messages with the phone. Twenty minutes later suspected of having the wrong day, controls the time of receipt. You are not wrong. After forty minutes knocks. There is no one, the glass has a crack. Try to make calls, listen to the phone ringing at the door: it must be close, the sound is distinct. Then he turns and knocks on the door nearest that of my office. Try to explain to me, fiddling with paper timetables, shows me that the reception is at that hour. I already know (giàssao, Tullio De Piscopo would say). Quiet, Prof Mc ***** not return, the cartel is to be before we arrived, the man disappeared in May. I'll be back in fifteen minutes. I have almost five months. I added a sign explaining the situation. I wrote: went to buy cigarettes . In Italian. Now it happens that the student goes into full panic after twenty minutes, does not understand, knocks and sent him away. The scirtta creates havoc, but greatly speeds up the process. Mc *****, I like to think about what led him to disappear, as it did, where he went and what it does now. Maybe it's to work in Germany and will return to the presidential vote, as that Ametrano Pasquale Monaco of Bavaria returned to Matera in the car. Or life has changed, it is elsewhere to enjoy the money in an earthly paradise. Or they steal everything, even their identity. Professor Mc ***** is a fascinating space, is a void volume, a room with a desk and two chairs, the glass is broken. Professor Mc ***** is a possibility. The window in front of the door must have raised the blinds because the light illuminates the glass and the intensity changes throughout the day. It seems to speak, as the red lens of HAL 9000 in Discovery One, and communicates a prediction. Perhaps a return. Personally, I most often return to the departure of the professor. Returns are always fascinating, heroic. Those that work are very rare in the vast majority cases are worse, they are pathetic. Are complicated, but sometimes possible. A single return, only one, the one that works and the concept is strong because of it, because each of us has within himself the promises made to someone else. Do not know if other things will still make sense if the other we have believed, so he, at any time, and know that there are always questions. All this builds the epic return. And do not even need to specify under which there is a love interrupted or broken, it is natural that there is. What shall we say in Mc *****? redone the photo that you are worse, as the customs officer at the Brenner handing a passport? Only once does return, once the other side is a I've been waiting, I've missed a , a quiet start as if everything had already been written, as if everything was safe due. As if a path had to. For this Mc ***** and its space are fascinating. Write it here: in my return. I bet a dinner at the Vietnamese restaurant with the Danish pessimistic.

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Il ritorno di capitan K

St. Paul, St. Anthony Park. Officials of the big events for the second day. In addition to a pair of unidentified characters, 3 new arrivals to follow the league. Frida is a known homeless person in the place, lie down in the meadow and a half bundled in a blanket. The other two are the janitor and the janitor Tim retired Hank. The whole world is country, even the janitors here they are called by name only and never by surname, after all, are not professors. But now I know what the janitors are retired, since I have lost track of the janitor Silvano and once I met the caretaker Anna municipal market square Fusina. You watch football poor. The presence of Tim and Hank is motivated by the comeback of Captain Emil K. for the opposing team, the Romanian student apparently renowned for its spectacular play. The night before, Saturday, Emil and other friends had left at 4 and a half in that same park intent on spending time with some cane acid and with a strange self they had brought from the laboratory directly into a test tube. I do not think they are back home, because the parity was played at eleven in the morning. My team has the players counted. No reservations, I think a boycott against the rules of the bogus links, but two professors have asked their students home for a lunch early autumn. Emil is fresh as a daisy with the same shorts and the same shoes the night before. It only changes the mesh. One minute before the starting whistle amarcord and great nostalgia. He asks me in Italian football to make him happy and I reeled off all the Romanian players of Brescia I know, by Sabau in Hagi, not to mention Raducioiu, Lupu, Petrescu (ha giocato anche nel Brescia?) e lui, contento, ribatte con Walterone Zenga e Nicola Caricola attualmente alla guida di due club rumeni. Ma finisce a tarallucci e vino quando mi rivela di avere lui stesso dei parenti a Brescia (e sfido a trovare un rumeno senza parenti a Brescia) e di essere stato a Milano, di cui apprezza parecchio la stazione centrale. Non gli dico invece che il mio amico Federico *ongelli voleva organizzare un viaggio di turismo sessuale in Romania, giusto per non scaldare gli animi nel pregara. Il pubblico si aspettava il Maradona dei Carpazi e invece Emìl è stonato più di N****o il giorno delle olimpiadi di matematica a Cesena o di V***o a Spotorno quando cerca di rifilare pasticche di ecstasy dicendo che fanno perdere due kili a pop. The game itself is disappointing and we win with an overwhelming 1 to 0 initialed by our goalkeeper. I'm the only one not to celebrate because I refuse to accept that my opponents on the edge of waste goalkeeper and shoots like a attancate. But they are a silent minority. I distinguish only for a bad foul and senseless against the wing opponent, guilty of not having the ball and that I happened to pull just as I needed to vent the anger and bitterness that I have matured in the week. The mention of the brawl is appeased by Emil. I am grateful, if the port goes to Milan to see the two air runs next to the station and bathrooms with frequent misunderstandings. Well. We are still in the race for the playoffs.

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Comincia il campionato

St. Paul, St. Anthony Park: After a week in winter with an average temperature of 5 ° C, thaw Saturday and Sunday league. First day at eleven, at the same time matches on the grounds of St. Anthony Park, half an hour before the start of membership, mandatory university paper, divided faculty and shoes with cleats. League deadly serious. For the selection of chemical engineering, like the black jersey Casale. I wake up one quarter of an hour before I come to take, I collect things quickly came to the camp with the jersey of the heart, all-white jersey of the Corinthians of Sao Paulo. A minute of freezing, then exchange the shirt with the goalkeeper, a colored boy, and I find myself playing with my pajamas because it takes at least three sizes too mine. He is in a straitjacket and what you feel because after 20 seconds from the starting whistle we are under a goal, shooting from distance, he tries to free himself and the ball bags. The field is perfect, freshly cut grass, lines drawn in chalk, network with no holes, flags at the corners, two referees, one for each half of the field with added function of linesmen. Particle me suspicious and suspicion increases when I notice that one of them has sunglasses and belt paninari keep walking shorts. After ten minutes I understand the hint. The only detail is the likely age of the players, all between 24 and 30 years, goalkeeper forties: is a Chinese researcher who leads them badly and that Gaucci tessererà soon. After 10 minutes we lose 2 to 0. On the twentieth, 10 minutes after the first time, our test center forward a call from outside, because the ball was right to predict. The forty prepare a blatant dive, stumble and the ball falls on the network. The game is reopened. The Chinese are desperate to be in a pantomime of low alloy manga. Go 'Ciapa the rat would have screamed Panzera. During the interval we analyze the game: as far as my performance, the airline expects a world champion. The winds also disappointment among the 3 spectators on the sideline. The recurring question is why I deliberately kicked the ball foul side in action when the opponent striker was about to go away on its own to our door and I was the last defender. I avail myself of the right to remain silent just because the field in which we play is the latest, next to a busy street without any protection. In fact it was a criminal act, whereas the referee took some 'time to go through and retrieve the ball. The second time I leave it to slow motion. I do not know how to reach a through ball, the striker flies in our network and the defensive opponent mowing. The lawyer in question is a fair virago, a wardrobe with 4 doors which makes revenue compared to which Pasquale Bruno is a young lady. Inside of me justify the rigor with fear because, fortunately, there is no contact, the center to save his leg pretends to faint and collapses dead body. Tie, then immediately below a network and still, 4 to 2. Halfway through the second time I have a triangle with the help of the wing (a turkish guy who speaks a language most similar to the English Gypsy), and finally closes. Stop the ball with his chest, and lightning hits the ground just the goalkeeper. I believe they have marked around the world. No one is celebrating. Paninari The referee ruled out for offside. No one I have to say. Do not even try to ask why, I think I got it wrong, it was not because offside in front of me a couple of feet there was the terrible virago. Not bad, I think that we can recover because the opponents are tired. We lose 4 to 3, the weight goal annulled. At the end of the game I turn paninari for the explanation of the network canceled. Offside, offside. I would like to take his glasses blacks to discover the horrific truth, I try to remind him that the defender was in front of me. That denies. He was offside because the defender is a woman. If he goes leaving me dazed. Not even the misogynist Prof. Fuganti would conceive a similar rule for which the defendant if there is no woman . The rule is fine: even if the woman is attacking the goal is valid, if the defender is attacking the man and woman too. It 's not have anticipated the female version of Police, is a fragile Beguine. I'm curious about the rules and try to look into. No man can replace a woman or vice versa, the substitutions take place only within the same sex. Each team must have a minimum of two girls because the university is trying to promote women's football. Since there are not many girls (and even less children), who play soccer, what happens in practice is that each team has two girls and that's it, that means that no girl will ever be replaced. So why when I see one of our partner cyanotic tried to pity the referee, that he riamandata in the field. While I get home I remember something obvious. Americans like to play alone. Count only the victory, this does not take a sport in which they are mediocre. In case you have to play to force (the university is obliged to take a league of football) rather than changes the rules. You can not make substitutions if the throw is the opponent. If the goalkeeper moves out and leaves the door unguarded, the goal is not valid affected (this rule will cause an uproar, goalkeepers who dart into the midfield when the boys have the ball). We must spend at least 4 times before pulling the ball and score. It's no longer football. It never was. I'm insulted and mocked the forty Chinese proudly wears the jersey of Dida. is a big fan of AC Milan. I do not want him as a cheering Milan.

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Come eravamo

Minneapolis, my home: After two weeks of isolation many have asked that I finally did. All right. My diet consists of: a one-liter mug of coffee, courtesy of the secretary dwarf (and harmonica), the department, Miss JP every morning standing on the chair shall prepare a thermos of coffee for all students of the plan, a meal only, consumed about five o'clock in the afternoon, based on cholesterol, eggs, fat, saturated oils, fried Vietnamese origin, genetically modified vegetables and other vegetables take the local cuisine offers. Saturday and Sunday I cook and it's worse. are in great shape. My current status is shown in the picture. are on the beach of the lake at a rally Cahun Marxist-Leninist, and I wipe after a swim. At the supermarket I found the razor blades. The barber shop close to home has Parkinson's disease and I have trusted. But I'm okay. My brothers o R **** S ***** or recognize me anyway. Another great curiosity that pushes my readers is the house. I live in 20 square meters. No more, I would feel terribly if I did not see getting up in the morning refrigerator, kitchen, shower, toilet, water heater and a sofa. I felt horrible and desolate prairie if you could freely walk to reach the table in place that are exactly half a meter from the bed and half from the TV. And I do not feel at home with no carpeting, to the threshold of the cup. House my house for my little girl you are, you are as an abbey. told us one night a drunken bum in front of the GS of Spinoza slipping away in a mysterious stairs between the cartons and empty boxes. He's right. My house is on a hill overlooking the Mississippi. It is located in a green area of \u200b\u200bhouses with gardens. Too bad they built a wall to separate the river from the neighborhood. To protect it from too much nature added to the highway. But when cars pass you hear the river flow. Here is a photo of me while I go on the clothes from home to predict the water. Sometimes I invite some friends. Many think I became a hermit, but at times you need to be alone. Black Elk was on the hill to fast and came only after the hallucinations had revealed the path. Scar I do not think fast, but my desire to share fully insulated. In any case, I am a social guy and sometimes to avoid talking to myself call my friend Brian. In the picture you recognize the hat, and welcome him at the door of my humble abode with a big hug. In these two weeks I have found someone to hate, I found an enemy that I have studied carefully and which I will write soon. I also read a lot and prepared a press release locally of considerable interest to all those who are passionate about good journalism, real journalism, done by people who go there on the spot and that is not in the office attached to the phone. Fortunately, the independent press and incited by the Communist conspiracy is also found here. The two best titles are named and Onion Minnesota Daily. A breath of fresh information in a landscape that foment hatred and exploits the news. Too many advances hurt. For now I leave these pictures of me.

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Minnesota State Fair - The Miracle of Birth

Fiera, far away from home: After two months I realized that the local passion are fair. A Taste of Minnesota was the taste, the Minnesota State Fair full version: a culinary and agricultural fair, a cocktail of mass plots, the true happenings of the summer. Let's all go for junk food and to see the farm animals, fascinated as children raised in the city. The stands are huge stables for cows, horses, sheep and goats, a pig on record, a poultry house as big as a hangar, but with no chance of flying. Around, lit stalls, entertainment and exhibitions of boats and equipment for the land. I sling the meat of alligator (gator ) and I serve it on a stick, fried in butter with mustard sauce and a pseudo Cajun : sa chicken and I do not know if the cause is the proximity of the kiosk with the chicken or the true flavor of the meat. The dish I am disappointed, I thought an animal had a dangerous taste with more dignity. I refer to a sausage on the skewer with mozzarella in a carriage on a skewer stick and fried strawberries. There are two rules for cooking minnesotese: all food is fried after soaking in butter and served on a skewer. At the booth of the Italian spaghetti ask out of curiosity and show me a lollipop arrotolotali fried noodles with a fork, skewer, covered with a layer of butter breaded. A true delicacy, the modest price of $ 5, which I no just because I want to report money. I avoid desserts, choice of fried oreo snickers or fried: fried hurts too. To the basic elements of the local cuisine are two dedicated stands: that of Deep Friers and that of butter. For twenty dollars you can leave your photos at the famous craftsman (part-time funeral also an artist and garden furniture) and get a real bust sculpted in butter with which to participate in the beauty contest and take home. As for narcissism and self-hatred that will contain a copy of itself to have carved a stick of butter I can not judge, I know I never would keep my torso in the refrigerator, do not want to watch it rot and not mutilate me for the carbonara and certainly not I would never make a bust. But here is a real passion and women pose for the portrait and serve meals with one ear, a piece of mind, an eye. The stand of the Deep Friers no different from that of weapons, so much so that they are in this together and we read the intentions and the amount motivating Frier daddy average. The real entertainment is the Miracle of Birth. The farmers of the area have organized themselves to bring an animal that each bear during the days of the fair, so that every day you can watch the birth of the kid, of the lamb, piglets, sitting in the stands on stage with lights and eye ox on the unborn child and shooting with television projection big screens. Routine birth of chicks and ducklings: tech with rows of eggs are kept at a controlled temperature so that the chick to break the shell under the noses of those who expect to sit. Needless to say, I sit in the stalls and saw the birth of the last pig, happy to see daddy to little children that indicate the preferred pig eating hot dogs and holding the ham sandwich that the healthy mother brought from home. Great: I do not know really who is the prey and predator, if the children put their hands between the bars to stroke the pet or dad, engulfed by some mega industry, dressed in the corporate center and with his wife beside ossigentissima . The output of the stand matches with the entrance to the pig's Largest Minnesota and I'm lucky to see The King, His Majesty Pretty Ricky, the boar more statewide Goss, 1200 pounds of pure pork. Around the king are a rabble of boys and an orderly queue of women aged 40 and over who in turn, secretly (some much less) to touch the bales Pretty Ricky causing small grunts of satisfaction. Good leads, good leads. I try to restart them, but the farmer is forcing me to close the camera (further organized a resale of salami and does not want to ruin the business). To describe the breadth of the strength of Pretty Ricky is not enough to imagine a soccer ball, add the feeling you get after noisissima a lesson (I vote M *** s), or after someone who wanted to avoid just stuck button. To describe the attitude of Pretty Riky must have seen the half-closed eyes and the grin that sleepy pig satisfied, pleased and a little sordid, exposes the bales to the amusement. But even so it makes the idea that populate the mind of the man who, after the Toccata, leaving the pigsty assusandosi without washing your hands and fingertips. Pretty Riky un'emblema and remember it is (unintentionally) is the stand of the Minnesota Independence Party, which wants to separate and preserve their own, original culture. The two revolutionary representation boomers are obese, hidden by the symbol party, a bison plastic about 1 meter, model of the trophy that stands above their heads. On the flyer, claiming to have a strong desire to challenge their rifles and take to the streets against the government's taxation, as well as to claim that the roots of the central government is leading the way in a real cultural genocide. Go Laura, terùn! Washington thieving, Little Tatanka does not forgive. The whole world is a place and I wonder what kind of culture we want to preserve these overseas while leaguers chew the flesh of former Pretty Riky, forgetting that many years ago in those same prairies grazed the relatives of their Little Tatanka, the largest store of genres food, utensils and clothing Indians never existed. At the exit, while a friend whose name I will not confess with great seriousness that his life's dream is to buy a plow (indicates by a $ 40,000) within me the winner is not Pretty Riky, but the bad taste, 'orignal one product showcased at the fair.

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Effetti collaterali

Minneapolis, somewhere that I can not say: ten horrible days, without the strength to eat or sleep. In particular the last six days, where I really lost something. Too much anxiety and thoughts to his head, not enough to say it was worth it but it is not. Call on Sunday there is one nightmare, something very important is gone, a full refrigerator thrown in the trash because of black out half the city for a whole day (and I wonder bridge between power lines and who is responsible to set the city, some drunk Norman at work), a glass shattered with shards still hidden in the carpet, a funeral (actually two, one real and one metaphorical), several dollars evaporated in minutes. I did not want to buy a racket just to play: my return to tennis after 7 years of complete ignorance (sometimes even two entities that have been deliberately ignored for a long time back together) I ripartisse from where it ended. Looking for a Wilson who is not an immigrant nor from early childhood, I make a $ 200 investment in a titanium frame that does not weigh anything and promises blows. The concept of socialization U.S. passes not only through sport but also in the competition, so do not just play and can handle it, you have to win occasionally. With BM, Jarod and Anders go into a zone of free hard courts is infrequent. You can tell by two things: the nest covering the fracture of concrete in the side, the surrounding soil on a slope that makes any ball leaves the rectangle ends inexorably three or four bus stops in the valley. All around, an eerie silence and two huge water tanks with the shape of a mushroom cloud of suspicion. I start to play with anxiety and anger that I never put anything in of what I did in my life. The reason I keep it for myself, but will remain with me for very long. Game believing to be able to vent anxiety hitting the ball. After seven years of absence, the law has not arrived, whips the air as the ball goes somewhere without me noticing. The service I never had and I understand that when I send the ball over the net of protection and I roll with joy to the city center, free and no longer a prisoner of the tennis court. The reverse side is a surprise, it must be like the wine that improves aging, because I end up playing only in reverse, with many many problems to overcome on the right to hit the ball from my left side. But the dribble does not take a long time is short once, right once, the other out, we can not put together three to four exchanges. The fury is the only thing that keeps us in the field. I do not think the game completely, I do not know the score, I think of something else, something very painful and beautiful, but in doing so I find myself involved in a tie break which Gale could easily ignored, but are betting on which all my hopes of socialization . Needless to say, the scene is to Palombella Rossa, except that the ball comes to me slow and high on the back, Anders me screaming kill it! and I was sent into the network. We lose the game. Release the bats and throw away $ 200 because titanium implants, titanium spectacle frames for ultralight, ultra-durable titanium, breaks like glass when the frame meets the pole of the network. And there's no relief, no release of tension, only further accumulation because the best things pass and beyond, especially to me. While we look for the car because Jarod does not remember where he parked, I understand the reason for the silence and abandonment. Walk pass a funeral with five relatives, the priest, the coffin and four men of honor: the path to follow through all the ordinariness of the neighborhood, in the midst of all the distance that exists on each side, so depressing that no I think it can die in a more anonymous. We find the car, realizing that the other side of the wall is the cemetery. When we leave, two sixteen year olds making out not far from the entrance.

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Il crollo del ponte sulla I-35W

Minneaapolis, I-35W bridge: Nick were deciding where to dine when everyone shuts up and turn up the volume on your TV. We recognize the four smokestacks of the production of steam, the new theater, the dome stadium, the complex of mills and curve of the Mississippi. It is one aerial helicopter flying over a cloud of dust, lapped at the right margin by black flames. On-screen slide titles that identify the crash site in I-35W bridge over the highway, the backbone of the city which connects downtown Minneapolis with that of Saint Paul. The bridge runs over the Mississippi in the fall and has pulled into the water traffic of the five: the summer has only limited the number of machines involved. About half an hour later, when we hear the news, there is already a victim. Outside the window the sirens go more often. The bridge is about 800 meters from the right and the bike should be a moment, but the mass of people and cars blocking every move. You can approach the scene with different points of view: the bridge has collapsed in the historic part of town and is built close to a second highest bridge (Cedar Avenue Bridge), which relieves congestion. A third smaller bridge and the pedestrian is at a hundred yards from the two. The area is easily accessible in a green area, the park of gold medals, and on both sides of the Mississippi river where there is a lot of jogging or cycling. We approach from below and then decide to get on Cedar to see the collapse. On the side, what is striking are the emergency vehicles of all kinds, from air boats with long square van that can accommodate small operating rooms. At the edge of the area, gather suffered the bulk of the crowd, mostly university students who seek in every way to help by providing blankets, food, drinks. In the confusion I find myself holding a lemonade. There are groups of bikers in Harley Davidson, priests who organize prayer circles in the grass and among the plants, usually solitary preacher who incited the sacred hymn, many amateurs with telescopic targets that jostle for the best location, crew Journalists in search of the witness. Up close, I impressed the coaches, trucks and cars still in the balance with the nose pointed already sunk in the mud or muddy. The flames come from a truck and while we are looking at a corpse is recovered, the speed of the operation and confusion of the rubble, emergency vehicles and hide the details, but there is clearly a stretcher with a waterproof sheet that disappears in an ambulance. When we reach the Cedar, the scene is more appropriate: what impresses is that the bridge has not collapsed one section, but all three sections defined by the piers, from shore to shore, in a general collapse. The two pillars still supporting abutments of the road, is now pointing dramatically to the bottom. In between, the mud is actually a palta water and soil cement in which carcasses popping away. Among the victims there may be children because at the time of the collapse was passing a school bus. From the elevated position, you notice the traffic lights of the cars and the highway that continues uninterrupted until the two edges of the bridge, forming an impressive tail. We stay until nine to wander in the area. Someone suffers, participates in drama and despair, and know (as I have noted many times) that in general to do so are mainly immigrants, perhaps with greater empathy because they are more accustomed to the difficulty and therefore able to share the concern of others. Some wonder why the news does not make assumptions or do not investigate the reasons for the collapse: from what we hear live, reporters are limited to describe the dynamic and questioning witnesses in different ways that say they experienced the feeling of an earthquake (the land near the bridge vibrated and you could hear noises deep). My lab mates are overwhelmed by calls from family members and find no better example to describe the psychosis September 11: Even if the television all the time repeated that this is not a terrorist attack, each of them must ensure that there were no outbreaks or bombs, and that is not near the critical zone (although on balance we spend about 3 hours). When we decide to go, it's already dark, the section of the bridge was not lit and the street lamps along the river are very far apart. They say that recovery operations will be massively reduced and continued until tomorrow morning. The victims were up to seven: let someone lights candles and bouquets of flowers. What I know is that last week for the party in the building we have come to the park to see the fireworks: it was the day that celebrates the city of Minneapolis water as a source of life and takes up an ancient Indian ritual. From the pedestrian bridge I watched the lights rise from the same tract that is now rubble. Now it seems to me that the Father of Waters has taken a bit 'of that life which they believe is capable of giving.

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Marcos e la salamella

Minneapolis, my house, your car's dashboard Marcos a bunch of dried flowers cover the filler air and dust and scatters petals when she leaves the air conditioner. The Hundai is his girlfriend, who has many problems every year to renew the visa and get the stamps start from Ho Chi Minh City. The forced stop for about a month, so he's left the car. He faded flowers reminiscent of a weekend of love in Tenneesee, I do not run a superstitious dad. Tear off a pass to my neighbor and friend Marcos, allow me to fill the refrigerator, which in a month I had not done since the distance between the bus stop and my house is exactly one mile and I can not bring too many parcels. If I think of the concept of a stateless person dear to my teacher in high school letters, Marcos is the archetype: gentiori Japanese, born and raised in St. Paul University in Maryland, Ph.D. in Minneapolis girl in Vietnam, three languages \u200b\u200bfluently, no historical depth ( Marcos who? Me?; That weird guy Lula, I know nothing of HIM; Mussolini? Is he still the chief? ). It physiatry, currently vivisection mice and one Sunday I have helped grease the future victims: I'm sorry, but there are no numerical models for many types of disease, a mouse costs $ 1 and is similar in some respects to the man (I had always suspected). Marcos asks many questions about the Italian food amongst other things because it is an excellent cook, invent recipes, always invites me to prove his soup (the last one, a bell pepper with a touch of raw garlic) and opts for vegetarian cooking. Passing between the supermarket, I wonder about brands, combinations, ways in which you eat certain cheeses. I am frankly tired of the tomato minnesotese, a sort of highlander the fridge that shrivels even after a month, sweet, watery and unfit sauce, pasta Da Vinci goes soft after a minute and red onion in Wisconsin that mimics that of Tropea without having the flavor. I do not try Italian food, I avoid them with care since whenever disappoint me, I buy vegetables, meat and rice. As long as the sausage stand, the index of Marcos tip a corner sheltered from beef loin and pork chops: is it Italian? Mild Italian Sausage. The sausage in packs of 6 for $ 3, there is a 3 to 2 with six dollars and will take home 18. Half an hour later, 18 salami, 6 of which are flavored with fennel, traveling to my home in the trunk of Hundai. Let's go back to seven and now I feel it: Preheat the griddle, a drizzle of olive oil, a clove of garlic finely chopped, a little onion, open the sausage in half and crushed it against the plate by turning it several times on both sides. When I put in the bread is cooked, add tomato slices, onion, mayonnaise and salad: the missing spice. The first bite me back in Argonne Avenue corner square Fusina, 300 meters from home. Arabic or French? Telma French, put the spice. Nostalgia rogue. I put two sausages on plate, Marcos name and appearance. It is a culinary experiment: he hates junk food, hamburgers and hot dogs disgusted. But the experiment works, it's like sausage and asks me if it is very popular in Italy because Brazil has never eaten. He wants an encore. Skald a sliver of Asiago, add it to the sausage flavored with fennel, two beers and one begins. We finish a pack, three sausages each, an evening mumbling and talking about women and sausages. The sausage, as well as highly successful social experiment in culinary, friendship and camaraderie ago: Marcos, usually confidential, I looked through books and CDs, I wonder if soon Neruda's poetry that does not know who (I guess it has drawn the cover), look in the closet and I envy the sweatshirt from the squatter Rebelot bought for 20 €. The effect lasts a long sausage because only one and half chose to go up in his apartment. When I close the door, I see the deal: a sandwich kiosk in Copacabana, with a half-Ciccio for salama da sugo and Tomino Novara, the center sends the Piedmontese beef sausage from Unity Day and holds happiness in four square meters. You know we do instead? Let's go, let's go to Brazil, we think, in Brazil, take a ... Moraldo steamer, a steamer and set off.

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Pool party condominiale

Hennepin, 333 5th Avenue, three buildings enclosing a square with a private swimming pool. A fence separates the complex from a meadow to the boundless horizon of which we can see the towers for the wheat harvest of General Mills. The building is huge because in the past served as an area of \u200b\u200bvast plains of northern Italy about how today is abandoned, but will become a monument to grandeur. I approach the barbeque, which is smoke the sign with the convening of the meeting of building and settlement for the use of common areas. I like the party for two reasons: it reminds me of the garage behind the veranda where I played football for small, is addressed to all the department of chemical engineering and there is none. They are friendly, do not talk about work and slowly they are all, without ever asking me questions trivial. They ask me to write that the United States are governed by an oligarchy of about fifty people who do what they want to disrespect the whole world. A Japanese begs me not to think that his countrymen are diventado insects: I say that I never thought about it, but inside me I can not see hard-working ants, but the hive or a swarm of thousands of cockroaches. No one was ever in Italy, but I explain that each one is partly due to Italian immigrant parents. Apart from the known carbonara, the boys of the department are primarily large GRILL, have placed two huge barbecue on the side of the square and they do not miss anything, every gift of God is offered by the owner, Dave, my most cordial and friendly office mate, which celebrates the end of the doctoral examinations. The pool is the attraction: two are obese cannonball in an attempt to empty it undeclared. One is a researcher with a long beard, the other a post-Doct in both working group and electrochemistry. We chat and drink a lot and everything flows with ease. A hit is my companion experiments, BM. "It is frustrating " he says. Swallowed homebrewed beer , shakes his head and clings to the plant is located, tearing two branches. From the pile of clothes next to the platform for diving takes a cap, puts the branches as the pen of a mountain and the whole system in mind. Resumed drinking, staggering, stretching out his hand to a girl's butt as he tries to talk to another. BM is very nice, I appreciate and I think a genius, but begins to worry because in two weeks he got drunk 5 times and sent a ball fifteen experiments. It's not something serious, I repeat not to be regarded that frustrating because it is very difficult and not at all immediate. What worries me is his mood swings. The outcome of the experiment goes to confide with confidence that is not religious, which is absolutely and an atheist who does not understand the meaning of the verb believe , and that does not accept that he is afraid. Then, it immediately becomes sad and shut up. Tuesday night he invited me to his house, a studio beside which I hygienist and rupofobo, because eating popcorn and potato chips piled on carpet I had never seen it done even by the most fanatical of Rotowash seller. The fridge has taken off all the shelves to fit a 5 gallon keg of beer, about 80 cm high with pressure reducer and small tank of carbon dioxide to tap. BM is an analogue machine with photographs of 70 cameras, makes developing and the best part: it's either a genius or a con man hanging pictures of Capra or Newton. The star the party is him, alternating moments of brotherly love, in which jumps, dances and embraces the present, with moments of anger, in which insults the guests in Italian (what I taught him) and in English. His favorite word is queer, flapping in my face constantly to anyone who passes by. The party lasts from 4 pm to 1 and 40 at night: the twenty minutes of the margin needed to get home before the road is illumianzione off. At the end of the festival, BM has so exceeded that someone thought to have said something prophetic and has sown the air in order to flourish the sky away that greetings between gays are wasted.

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Io, Fondriest e la bicicletta

Minneapolis, Dinky Town, Erik: bike cost me $ 100, the lock 60. If they have to steal something, take the lock and leave the bike. Erik comes in the form of twenty-five obese committed that satisfies my curiosity with incomprehensible jargon to which I always reply Jeez. I understand that I will be wrong, but I leave proud of my bike brand Jazz, vintage 1999, with Kryptonite U-lock that will give me super powers. After two meters, carried out in the alley right next to another and to the store with the set of Allen who gave me free, I lower the saddle, set a little pedals and trim all that the clerk had measured and modified with patience. I just in time to share that the salesman comes out the back door and greets me. There was a close one that broke his heart. I go to the lab and go out three hours ago. The evening is warm. To get back home there are a climb, a descent, a climb back longer, a plan and the final descent: stage rather varied talents are versatile. At the first climb I hear the voice of Adriano De Zan that pushes me to the finish, but after fifty yards turn back and leaned over the bridge and the West Bank. Minneapolis is a city with more miles of bike paths in the United States. I follow a path along the river, lit by lamps that send light yellow. The road is pianegggiante and sometimes leaves the shore and walk through the buildings. There's no one around, simply follow the rule do not plan to stay in fatigue. In the laboratory, all are passionate about cycling and I am bombarded with questions about the Tour of Italy. The question: Who won the last edition? I answered in sequence Petacchi, Basso, Savoldelli, and Cleto Fondriest Maol and I do not know if I guessed. To the question: what do you think of the scourge of doping? cry scandal giuìn are all the drug! inside me and I remember the picture that David S ***** i got when talking about his experience in cycling and amateur players that you were hiding in doping pears ghostly caravans on the roadside before Podenzano- Piacenza-Fiorenzuola. Without doping and with the precious lock I stop at a point where the river makes a bend in the center of St. Paul, after about an hour Padala. The Twin Cities are nice, no monuments or buildings to show, are two huge garden city dominated by the river and lakes. There is great variety in the landscape or architecture, more or less it looks like the bridge to Harriet Island or along the River. I stop, take some pictures and go back slowly, enjoying the rain began to moisten the air.

Belphegor X Fran Doujinshi

Ho visto Lanny e Lanny ha visto me

Admundson Hall, Office 439: wind blows strong in the streets of Minneapolis. Fold the tops of trees, billboards and traffic lights to vibrate, raises gusts of dust along Franklin Road to be resurfaced. When the movement is channeled between the buildings, the speed increases and a hissing. The sparrows are huddled in the grass, sometimes seeking to recover arms trying to fly but fall a few yards away. I'm cold, even though the bank thermometer marks 95 ° F, about 35 ° C: I am not alone in the street people wear the sweatshirt. Lanny is made to S: in his own way maintains a certain harmony in the balance between the curvature of the stomach and back. The deformity enrolled him in the category of genuine scientists, those that inspire trust, and lay saints Passionara that have nothing to do with the scientist-manager or the mass media. A hero of his piece of science. He wants to give it's because you can not treat those who are informal in a formal way. I have no idea how to give you the English and the problem does not arise, but what I like, confirms my feelings. Tolerates teasing: in the laboratory sprouting photomontages, clippings and drawings of him with the body builder, dressed as Santa Claus while listening to a child-headed bearded student, with the body of the hydra by rocks or Mick Jagger, which bends to the microphone . They say that if the U.S. president came to his office, he sent him away if he had not time or stop to listen to the call of the student. Treat everyone equally and accept the advantages and disadvantages of this behavior. His physique has made him legendary and has shaped its character: it has a powerful voice, speaking without a microphone to the conference despite the head points downward. It makes me sit beside him. From the desk pretty much just check the head because the curvature of the chair goes back, sit as if it were sliding down from the chair, a position at the extreme Felice Caccamo. ATRA office chair, which made me sit up, it seems that the picnic for children and find myself curled up like the sparrows in the grass. The purpose has changed, removing the lever to raise it. Comments my data, the work of about two years. The day before, Lanny had organized a meeting where I had to present the same information to students and the group, with lots of sandwiches, slices of watermelon, cucumber and peanut sauce with butter, snacks and adjoining stalls. I do not think like them to Lanny's happenings (certainly not the world), because only he lacked the guests, who organized everything. He tells me that he had forgotten, but do not believe him. So I reply privately in his office. Join a lot, I had planned a 25-minute speech, but we go forward one hour between applications, data and insights. His opinion is cryptic, I try to interpret his expressions, but makes many Marcel Marceau in comparison is a pillar of salt. Sometimes it approached the screen, sometimes down in front of the shelves, sometimes directed his eyes to the certificates that cover the wall. Makes difficult questions and each time ahead of me: it is very nice discussion with him. Towards the end, sends a whistle, making room on your desk, retrieves a sheet and pin something. The episode is repeated after a few slides. When I conclude, looking at me and asks me why I do not write two articles about my work (someone must have made him a tip, I'm already doing) and asked me if for the third time I present them to other students. I interpret it as a positive. Then, do kindly approached, he rattles off his point of view. He says che secondo lui è meglio che io faccia altri esperimenti: userò un nuovo reattore, una nuova tecnica di campionamento, un nuovo software per interpretare i dati. Così smetterò di usare strumenti che se pur precisi, sono un poco passati e mi convincerò che l'interpretazione è un'altra , figlia di una diversa, più sofisticata, metodologia sperimentale. Sono proprio un pulcino: non so se rimanerci male o bene. Mi consiglia di prendermela comoda, ambientarmi e farmi piacere il caffè americano di cui avrò bisogno nelle nottate in laboratorio. Arrancando (mi vienie in mente Igor che porta le valige), mi accompagna fuori dall'ufficio. Oltre al portatile, in mano ho il plico di fogli con le bozze degli articoli. Dear Lanny has just thrown them out of the window inside of me, I look at them fly off the wind-swept and scattered somewhere in the streets of the city.

Discjuggler Need Reboot

Big Ale e la balla del venerdì sera

Minneapolis, Washington Avenue, we started at 6, accompanying the tacos with a round of Premium Beer. The pitchers are fresh in from two pints each and pay the mouth of a neighbor. The day is warm, we promised to return to the office after dinner and continue to work a little, but it is good and the windows you see the red sky in the windows of skyscrapers, interspersed with long, empty streets. Let's take another ride, another, fresh from the barber get P **** is added to the group B **** polimerizzazione, siamo in sei, ognuno paga il nuovo giro. Sono contenti che io regga il passo. Per spezzare, arriva un vassoio di JaggerBomb (Jaggermainster e Red Bull) e poi di nuovo birra. Si parla di croogers , di screw’em up , di bitches back in town e discorsi da spogliatoio maschile al liceo. Mi insegnano un campionario di insulti e modi di dire, si ride, siamo rilassati. P*** ha la moglie 24enne a casa (lui ha 26 anni) ed è il più impermeabile alle battute, capisco che gli interessa altro e gli butto lì una domanda politica. Non gli chiedo della guerra o della politica estera del suo paese, ma di cosa pensa delle vie europee al socialismo. Chiede agli altri di ascoltare perché is interesting and the situation quickly slipped into the debate. The beers are countless, the return to office is forgotten. Do not want to find out, they are all nice and do not want to offend them. Not involved. I have little to disagree, not because I agree, but because the principles are never questioned: they come out different points of view, but the rationale is that America is a socialist country rather than with issues to resolve, but essentially based on socialism. Me are made to repeat more than once. I have no idea what they mean at this point. It follows the concept that, as capitalism as the only working model, there are more or less socialist capitalism, but the only road to socialism is capitalism. I think the beers were already having some effect, there is talk of their foreign policy which they deem full of horrors, we glide into the bathroom and then to the cashier. They are $ 30 per person and a pint of beer costs $ 2 and a half. We did not know how much to drink, dance a crazy B **** starts dancing in the street, trying to climb to J **** light pole, walking to and thrust elbows. Let's go to another pub and another, always to shuttle between the counter and the bathroom. In the latter, a girl tries with B ****, the room is empty, the image is of their own against the two people dancing on a giant screen as it moves up to repeat summaries of days of baseball, football, hockey and basketball. The athletes are enormous, their two small shadows. He falls on the carpet, she laughs and walks away. Did not pick up her number. We go out and walk to the office to return things. It's three in the lab and when we expect there to R **, which had closed in to make experiments. We laugh, trying to throw away an aluminum ball (ie the experiment), then we return home, all live nearby in an area full of gardens and corners where to pee. The bush is moving to a rabbit and try to wet it with the jet, one escapes and passes between the legs of J **** chasing it zigzagged. It's a beautiful evening, cool, the river in the background and the auto giant under the arch of the bridge. I do not remember anything anymore, except for my new nickname: Big Al, I repeat it continuously. Maybe we have some European prejudice toward them. Will be repeated next Friday.

Meralgia Paresthetica Treated With Acupuncture

A taste of Minnesota - down to the fun fair

St. Paul, Harriet Island: obese people all hanging in the delicatessen. Polizzi canatava the medium and the chorus came back to me as soon as I set foot on the bridge that separates the town from the waterfront park. The Independence Day celebrations are made, the queues at the stands ordered, strictly stream channeled by barriers and guards. For the first quarter mile is the feeling of being the party of the police rather than that of Twin Cities, poi l'impressione scompare e la massa umana sommerge tutto. I compagni del laboratorio sono socievoli (in due giorni di permanenza siamo andati al cinema, alla fiera e al parco a bere) e sono eccitati per i fireworks. Tutti sembrano esserlo, spuntano berretti con piccole fiammate in polistirolo, stelle luccicanti, marche di compagnie pirotecniche, strisce fosforescenti. Il gusto del Minnesota è una sorta di Sagra della Melanzana Ripiena di San Genesio moltiplicata per mille, con migliaia di spettatori disseminati in un grossissimo parco con lungofiume. I piatti tipici sono l'hot dog, l'hamburger, le salse piccanti, il cibo italiano modificato, il menù di campagna. Scelgo quest'ultimo e ottengo una pannocchia e un litro di limonata per $ 5. A preacher in civilian clothes walking against the crowd, holding a sign with an invitation to praise the Lord, sometimes it begins to sing and try to involve the herd that regularly sneers (guffaw and I will take it back in a video) and not follows. Goes around the park four or five times, then disappears. Happens to us very little. We sit in a meadow, bombarded by music that the orchestra repeat sounds God Bless America and other classics. We buy beer (there goes Jas because it is the only one that has the identity card with them), drink, chat. I am pleased to belong to the category of low-fat, while around me and tell sweaty masses trudging or fell on the ground nel tentativo di rialzarsi dopo il pic nic sull'erba. Sul tema obesità scriverò qualcosa (di banale) perchè è impressionante. I fireworks secondo me sono una delusione, ma non lo posso dire: durano mezz'ora, devono rispettare le norme di igiene acustica, non riempiono il cielo. Altro che capodanno napoletano, altro che preparazione della Falla valenciana. Ma la serata è tiepida, sull'erba si sta bene e qualcosa lo apprezzo davvero: lo pseudo dissidente nero che apre uno stand abusivo tentando di vendere cuffie e magliette con l'immagine di Chè Guevara. Il fiasco è clamoroso, qualcuno ha da ridire. In mezz'ora chiude baracca e burattini e fugge via con un grosso zaino in spalla. Direi è riuscito a trovare il residuato più unsold imaginable on Independence Day in the United States.

Can I Join National Guard With A Pectus Excavatum

È arrivato Zenigata

Minneapolis airport. My suitcase reappears on the conveyor belt along with the other coming from Phildelphia. I was not and I felt only the nth control of hand luggage, in which the officer shall give sympathetic consideration frame made from Thai newspapers with pictures of friends in Berlin. Thai a terrorist? A rebel Malaysian rogue state? Make no mistake, the policeman Smell the frame. Later, at home, I tried too, but does not feel even the smell of the press. At baggage claim I can not go wrong. Robert S ******** wearing a hat black with a yellow extension ponytail. The tail, although brief, is seborrheic. Blame the sweat that tempers when Bob runs the marathon: a sessantun'anni it takes five hours, but not interested. It's the first thing I said, my hat's good luck and do not change. He takes off his hat, and underneath is bald. He is a talkative and helpful and the two baggage door for me than three pounds, and I limped with one to thirty. He arrived with the van he uses for the household chores: ensures luggage from lots of concrete and a bundle of shingles, get the space in the middle of a pile of pipes, scrap metal, wood and touches of dried paint and lime. Asks questions to repeat: I wonder where Milan (not the has never heard), what I do work and do my thing. I wonder if it's ever been to Italy and he says that every two years for Paris with his wife. Hopeless romantic who does not know the geography . And the conversation would end in a quarter of an hour (so far is the house from the airport) except that after she announced that the junction between Minneapolis and St. Paul must be taken to Minneapolis, take the safe direction of St. Paul and we are forced to go around the city. He apologizes between a solace and a laugh, saying it was too late for him and soon to be operated for hernia, which causes him pain and distraction. The twenty-minute digression allows him to explain that his wife is in great electrical engineer, industrial engineer his daughter, his unit (hence the quote to Zenigata for fans of "The Furious", not because he eats an omelette, or why Commissioner). I look around: there is a finger Nature Valley Fruit & Nut Mix Trial opened on the dashboard, bitten and stuck in a cloth for glasses. On the ground, instead of the pad, there are newspaper caked with mud. Other bars are crammed in the glove compartment next to the exchange, the van has air by scrapping incentive. I wonder what the inspector is, certainly not health. I respect him very much. Takes me far from home and I'm glad to have the wrong road perché lungo le vie snocciola particolari preziosi, fra cui l’incrocio dove suo cognato ha fatto il tamponamento. È rustico e garrulo. La garrulità, per chi la volesse definire, è un incontinenza di parola, ma per chi la volesse visualizzare posso inviare un primo piano dell’amico Zenigata. Mi consegna le chiavi di casa, mi accompagna dentro e mi fa vedere che è tutto a posto. Come tocco finale lascia tre barrette Nature Valley sul tavolo in caso io abbia fame durante la notte. Dice che è meglio per lui se torna a casa sua e che ci sentiamo il giorno dopo per telefono. Abita vicino a Minneapolis, a solo un’ora e mezza di auto. Capisco che la geografia la conosce, è il concetto distanza che gli manca e vede l’Europa as a small place where everything is close to everything. It's nice to meet enthusiasts from time to time.

How To Make Some Ones Life Miserable

Vento d'estate io vado al mare, voi che fate?

Philadelphia airport. Summer wind, I go to the sea, you are doing? I can not wait, maybe I get lost. The scene of old trudging barefoot between gates is paramount. I am happy as a child while in step socks on the carpet, then gum on the carpets, then the harder. The real children chase each other between the legs of the big tail, laughing at the fight against terrorism. The shoes appear at intervals on the tape: I'm pretty proud of my not have holes, are not embarrassing or even bombs. Mordo Nahum (you spell it?) it would have been proud in the streets of Krakow. But older people trudging a bit ', a smoker is ashamed and basket covers the moccasins with three cartons of cigarettes. In fact, the moccasins were processed. Another takes an hour to fold and remove them, may fall and leans against the policeman. Others simply stumble. All right, I will try to retrieve the baggage that I was removed from the re-check (a kind of statistical control, it is not always attackers disguised as police officers), with the result that I saw him disappear into a tunnel with no silver output. Ensure that did not go to waste paper and regain my arrival. Maybe, but nobody asked me where I go. In flight, a small episode. The man is in his fifties, hair care apricot shirt and thick neck. It's huge. The plane has just taken off when he begins to paw, grasping the arms, asks for a glass of water. Currently unable to restrain himself, but after a couple of hours is unleashed. He must have woke up from a nightmare, gets up and takes a shot against the headboard shelf (behind the laugh). Call the ticket agent asks of Liquors, speaks softly. The refusal, began to insult him, then apologizes, then again railed against the inhumanity of the staff. The steward sent him frankly in that country, the woman intervenes and tries to calm him down. He leans toward her, stammering something Illinois that my neighbor can understand. September Eleven Was a hard day for everyone whispers in my ear Here, the shock from September 11. Fantastic. Fortunately, the arrival has only a bruise. The bombs were in London ...

My Pug Has A Stomach Ache

Pasolini rhymes with whips

I wanted to start the run on the beach after presentzione Congress, or tell why the title of the blog or definitions that I have collected these days about the trip to Minneapolis. None of this ...
lunchtime square. Putting together ideas for the blog, when behind me looks a shadow of a microphone, I do not have time to time before I get the interviewer square and the lens of the camera. I'm annoyed, I appear for the first time on the small screen with half-apricot in the mouth, the other half in hand and a small pool around the core, thrown to the ground with a gesture of disrespect from peanuts. Stuff from corner to Eat voncioni Parade, stuff that sends me Vissani bullets at home. But I find that the application is not trivial, there are neither behind nor Open Studio Clean Air, I'll scream Prosperini piscialètt! cagasott! or (even worse) you ghe Rasen, forth pè ... There is talk of Pasolini, are of the Fandango and want to update the Master made the documentary interviewing ordinary people on issues just discussed. Fantastic, I say that I read the writings Corsair and I saw some of his films, I speak a little of the goodness of the idea they had and pollution information, like everything else (from the air to the blood of athletes) undergoes a subtle process that we must fight. And here slip on banana peel. Why man wants to send me to Cannes (will try to send the documentrio Festival) and certainly the RAI, not so much for this intro as to a specific question: What do you think of sado-masochism? Know sadomasochism? Sadomasochism? MasoSadochismo? I had to shut up, collect the stone from the ground and swallow it. Apricot and disgusted stain to the interviewer. But the apricots were finished and the core was too far. Of course I do: the Web is inevitable even see involontariamete a corner, clipping a few incaprettati naked men and women with whips and divided by kapo. Eh, it was just that! Inside of me I think of e-mails on Viagra, the tardone to 30 € and Experiences with sexual photos small 1 inch x 1 inch arriving in the internal mail avalanche of Poli. A second after I die inevitable, I say that? To those who want to tell? The Promenade will elbow, indicating the surfer sex, peeping from the network even has the courage to hide behind the bush at the park Ravizza, but it's handy at home peering galleries Free sites prohibited. Desperate, mi aggrappo al ritornello sulla spazzatura che ci viene proposta ovunque, ma quello incalza, vuole maggior dettaglio, io rispondo che nel sadomasocoso c'è una componente di violenza che non c'entra nulla con la sessualità e che è intollerabile, allora quello la butta prima sul democratico (ma se la violenza è consensuale?? non può proibirla, deve tollerarla) e io glisso, poi sul discriminatorio (trova che anche nell'omosessualità ci sia una componente violenta??) e io intuisco dove vuole parare e nego tutto, l'omosessualità non c'entra niente. Mi chiede se ho presente Salò. Ribatto che se sta pensando di collegare la domanda al contenuto di Salò non sono d'accordo, perchè nel film Pasolini mostrava torture in all its disgusting perversion and violence, not the banal eroticism with sadomasochistic attitude. But I garbled, I see the cameraman who went from my face to the interviewer. Just a couple of questions and it's over. The three shady discounted if they leave with a satisfied air: a force of cuts and edits, from my speech trasparirà a Pasolini in fishnet stockings and high heels and a visceral distaste for any kind of sexual practice that both heterosexual and homosexual. Culatùn and pussy! Or will out a kind of confession from fourteen sex maniac who found The Hours and Teletutto the dark corner of the cabinet. I can not help it, at least let the poster with the naked Meadows! Now I hope I was unpresentable with the bite in his cheek. Now I hope the censorship of taste, I see nell'albicocca a product of global warming and not the precious fruit of some protected species.