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crazy stuff

know the short story by Pirandello where Mrs. Frola and Mr. Ponza accuse each other of madness?

Mrs. argues that his son would be jealous and four years would take his little daughter Tildina segregated at home, and would be forced to look at it and give it away for his news letter, through a basket lowered from the window. For its part, says that the man would die from Tildina four years, the woman who lives with him would be his second wife and that only out of pity would lend itself to the game the poor lady went crazy with pain, pretending to be his daughter.

In his absolute genius, Pirandello used this metaphor to explain in their own way each of us would have the truth, one that most prefer, made to measure, and the reality is so subjective does not exist outside of ' individual.

It looks like the same thing happening in Parliament.

Deputies and senators of the PdL and the minister Alfano WOULD BE lavishing their efforts to pass a law that no one would ask a personal basis.

But how, you say, a law ad personam is not a recipient, even if apparently seems to direct the whole country? Sure.

In this case you have not even tried to give an appearance of generality and abstraction to the norm, they make a virtually full names of the recipients of privilege, trampling on the Roman law, customs, the Constitution, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and so on.

But this is the land of the beyond, and has obviously gone beyond the obvious infringement of the privileges or irroganto : the Alfano takes us back to princeps legibus solutus , and what really touches indecency and that the principle in question is amazed, look at the world from the CRT and mutters, "Who, me?", whatever that turns out as a Ciaula the Moon and impunity donated by friends of the party. The prince did not ask anything, and who felt the opposite was dreamed it all.

What is the truth, then? Berlusconi is one of Italy's ills, or are his detractors see evil everywhere?

the end of the story, the villagers of the characters will break your head to find the solution: who's the crazy one? Who, even in its breathtaking facade of normalcy, the hatching insanity? Pirandello does not tell us, and you want to bet? Most Italians will end as citizens of Valdana: will ignore or pretend not to know everything, as if in such cases there may be truth and subjective reality, the name of the mad and will never be given the status quo will be maintained.

That is, if you like.