Vinny: Do you know what you are, Louie? You’re a fuckin’ male chauvinist pig.
Louie: What do you mean, I’m a male chauvinist pig? You just shot a broad.
Vinny: A cop. I just shot a cop. They wanna be equal. I made her equal.
[ Jim Jarmusch, Ghost Dog (1999) ]
It is now time to hop over to gender studies.
- Can someone tell the name of the young lady who - after what might well be defined the most highly priced bl*w job in history - got a ministry seat, and later on another fat € 40,000.- for having been defined as might easily be inferred? Yes! You’re right - she’s that very same girl long distance truck drivers used to pin up in their driving cabins. And, yes again, the name is Mara. Quite an improvement, from them old truck driver days, right?
Having met the aforesaid lady only once in my life near Parliament House, neatly dressed in a chic dove-grey trouser suit, I must admit that I found her more attractive in that attire, than in her previous, and rather scanty, one. Nevertheless, I couldn’t but wonder what incommensurable wonders she supposedly has been up to doing. Too bad I can’t offer any ministry positions, at present.
- Also, is there someone who can tell which dentist assistant has become - next to organizing a neat little private brothel for the mightiest “haves” in recent years - a member of the Lombard regional council, and is now going to reach (at 27 years of age) the minimum time of service to guarantee herself a nice pension, while others tool for over 40 years to reach (at 67 or 68, maybe) the right to do so? “Aye, Sir! The name is Nicole (aka the lifeboat)”.
“What do you say? You’d like her shipped straight over to Magadan, Siberia, or delivered to the pleasure garden of some God-forgotten tiny Central African warlord domain? So be it, Sir, if thus you favour. Personally, I would rather stick to the stern and quicker ways of some Central Asian locations, and have her stoned for zina (unlawful sexual intercourse). But to each one his own choice Sir, so be it as you like.”
- Last not least, there was a short video on TV the other night, showing the police abducting from school - rightfully, I presume - a ten-years old boy, dragging him on the floor and chucking him into a car his shouts and tears notwithstanding. It let me think of a variety of things:
First of all, of the wisdom of old King Solomon, confronting the two would-be mothers contending one infant. That kind of wisdom seems to be scarcely represented nowadays under the sun, and maybe least of all in a police precinct.
On the other hand, it made me think - no, not of the ways Nazi used to have in sorting out children, sick people and the elderly from the rest of their families, once getting off the goods wagons at the camps - of an American crime action movie by Jim Jarmusch (Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai, 1999). The excerpt I have been quoting above is a line following the murder of a woman street police officer who had stopped their car, by deadly wounded Vinny (Victor Argo). The Italian police officer in the video had about the same approach the fictitious one had in the movie: “I’m a police officer, and you are nought.”
The first possible line coming to my mind for a next to be shot crime action movie? “I’m nought and you’re dead”. BANG!
However, a Mr. Manganelli (geez - what a name for a State Police Chief… in Italian this means “police baton” - nomen est omen!) quickly sent his apologies to the boy’s family for this behaviour. Good boy.
But I’d like to tell Mr. Manganelli two things in this context. The first one is that he can neatly write down his apologies on a clean sheet of paper, roll it, and stick it up we-all-know-where (his nose, or wherever). The second is that I’d like him to disrate that fucking I’m-a-police-officer-and-you-are-nought lady before sending her to sit in the gutter where such scum belongs. I’d like to see her bleeding from him kicking her right in the face - metaphorically, at least - and I’d like to see it happening right here, on my TV set.