Italians...

Not long ago, I was wondering: I was afraid to say it. I was afraid to think it.

Why do Italians revel in their own depravity, as they love to do, in cinema?? In that sense, Italians are kind of like pigs. They wallow in their own shit. In films and television, which they produce, direct and write, they usually depict themselves as crude, vulgar, brutal, sadistic thugs. From Julius Caesar to Michael Corleone. Savage killers. Sex obsessed. Crass. And, stupid. “But, not in a bad way.” Dom Irrera

In the HBO lollapalooza Sopranos, for example, the gang members are presented as lovable schmoes, regular people, with wives they always cheat on, and personal friends they will eventually kill. They are big eaters, too, slamming down plate loads of pasta. Guzzling vino. Enjoying Satriales sausage. They’ll burn down your restaurant to save you from embarrassment. Cause, they’re just regular folks. If the waiter complains about a lousy tip, not to be annoyed, they just smash his head in with a brick (and laugh) before they finish him off with a cap in head. Regular guys.

In the Godfather trilogy, the Italian concept of honor hinged on murder. If you don’t like what someone says, kill him. If you feel threatened, kill him. If someone has something you want, just take it from them. Or, kill them. Make them an offer, they can’t refuse, translated means: I am a thug, without a conscience, greedy, shallow and stupid and if you don’t do whatever I say, I’ll cut your nuts off, or kill your horse or your children or your wife. I’m an animal. It’s my way. Or the high way.

Leon, the Professional

Leon, sad and soulful, the lonely, “Italian type” professional Hit man shacks up with a little girl and teaches her how kill people. “He just wants a little conversation.” you fat fuck.

Don’t you wonder, why Italians boast so much about being so bad? It’s a defense mechanism. They’re overcompensating and insecure. In truth, they’re mostly just a bunch of pussies. They couldn’t think themselves out of a paper bag. So, don’t ask them any questions. Otherwise, they’ll kill you. From behind, or at a distance. Never face to face. It doesn’t matter to them. We must make allowances for them. You don’t say. Enough said.

The Italians own the best of everything, that they stole off of a truck. They specialize in all manner of vice, gambling, whores and the protection rackets. They all have big dicks and their women are always wet. Men like Joe Pesci and Robert DeNiro have made a living pretending to be regular, everyday, typical bad guys. Insane. Cold. Calculating. Silent. Subtle. Yet, always sinister. And, always crude and very cruel. Yet, these “wops” are all devout Catholics, too, dragging down with them, the Vatican, to gutter level. Horny priests. Fuck! Even the Pope gets a piece of the action. In more ways than one probably. Is the Pope Italian? Usually.

Carla “the witch” Tortelli

Martin Scorsese. You better like his movies…or else. If he’s an artist, then I’m an angel. He’s a businessman who sells violence: an Italian specialty item. Violence du jour. Massive murder. Specializing in crazed depravity, and fanaticism. Or Francis Ford Coppola, who never made a movie that didn’t feature insanity or wasn’t dripping with blood. Which is not to mention the ass-kisser Quentin Tarantino, gore master extraordinaire! There are no words……

One interesting contribution made by FF Coppola is how he arranged for his daughter to win an Oscar for “Lost in Translation”. I mean really? The highest achievement in cinema? Coppola exposed the Academy Awards with that stunt, for the farce the Academy really is. If his darling daughter wants an Oscar, she gets an Oscar. And, for Italians, it doesn’t matter if you win the award through intimidation or bribery, just so long as they can show off their golden statue, that actually, and in truth, because Francis proved it, doesn’t mean a fucking thing. Now…that’s Italian!

Which is not to mention the overpriced Italian wine FF Coppola makes: actually produced by Mexicans.

And, now, we’ve got Luigi Mangione, the latest and perhaps the greatest Italian hit man of all time. Let’s bail this guy out. Oh, don’t worry. It will all be arranged.

Luigi Mangione, for president 2028. Or, else.

I only wanted folks to write-in their votes. Then again. I’m not Italian. If you prefer violence, you can count me out. It’s a waste of time, to comment. Don’t vote for me. Write-In: Luigi Mangione. Hey, ho. How far will it go? How far do we have to fall?

Oh yeah! Falling….is freedom.

Sticks and stones might break your bones. But, Italians will kill you.