The end of what some commentators have described as "the longest day of the Berlusconi era" seems truly inspired by the final scene of "The Caiman," Nanni Moretti: The Knight is allowed to applaud its diverse audience of ministers, coordinators, sappers and courtiers of various kinds and levels ; his government was saved thanks to the turnaround practiced by three former opponents hastily recruited through practices of bad policy which rests on the Judiciary to check the legality. Meanwhile, outside the House, Rome is set on fire by a crowd of angry protesters, we are the perfect synthesis, Berlusconi rules over a country in flames. We are the perfect synthesis: La Russa laughs and Pompeii collapses; Letta reasons and L'Aquila is hidden from the rubble, the Mussolini struts and Naples is drowning in the waste. Rockets come, and Calearo Scilipoliti: the Government is safe, where comes the faithful come to the Head of the mediations Denis banker and the persuasive force of the tycoon Silvio Putin that idolizes and imitates Gaddafi. Rockets and Calearo Scipoliti and doves Finian: It is the ecstasy of Berlusconi, the ecstasy of that Joseph D'Avanzo premier has effectively called "The Marauder".
But now that the classroom is empty and the battle is over, now that the cries of the winners are lost in the darkness of this latest night of the Republic, what is left of this crazy ride of encounters and clashes, leaders and fireplaces, declarations and denials, conversions, and conversions for months that feeds the increasingly derelict circuit of Italian politics? Government remains a slender thread hangs the consent of three acrobats of the parliamentary benches, convoluted language and shameless in the search for prestige and power. Remains a prime minister in a crisis of consensus and credibility, fleeing the passing years and the processes to be carried, clinging desperately to his image as a self-made man and the shield of legitimate impediment. It remains a dangerous country anesthetized in his capacity for indignation, in which opportunism, processed, corruption and prostitution are proposed in the eyes of pubblica come le normali componenti di quella falsa realtà che trasuda ogni giorno dagli editoriali di Minzolini come dalle interviste di Straquadanio.
Resta soprattutto quel “Vergogna! Vergogna! Vergogna!” sparato a pieni polmoni da Bersani sulla folla riunita in Piazza San Giovanni, meravigliosa zattera di democrazia sulla quale si appuntano le residue speranze di quanti ancora progettano giorni migliori per questa Italia alla deriva. “Vergogna! Vergogna! Vergogna!”: tre parole per sigillare il giorno più lungo di Razzi e Scilipoti, dei cambi di casacca e dei mutui da pagare. “Vergogna! Vergogna! Vergogna!”: le ultime parole da spendere al crepuscolo dell’estasi Marauder.
Carlo Dore jr.
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