While the fragment " Alcohol and Adrenaline "from the book" Cani sciolti "by Domenico Mungo just rightly draws its circles by the German ultra-scene and Francesios" Tifare Contro "his awaiting publication , I had actually done, finally, the review of mongooses novel "Sensomutanti" here to publish. What can I say, it's already been five or six book reviews, all of which have already found their way into the trash, because I do not even remotely adequate to the text appeared. "Sensomutanti. Love in times of stadium ban beyond "just the review, and the categorization of the summary. A Ultràhassanarchistenphilosophiegewaltliteraturblutliebepornobuch that strikes directly into the stomach. And only here can really grasp. A black hole of a novel, the scientific literature with neither tools nor does the "horny action that age" of the street get at.

Anyway, I've taken the liberty to translate two pages here and throw the easy times.

I am what you want me

I have repeatedly tried to link the meaning of the word contempt with an accurate perception. And usually was associated with the brief revival of stereotypes which suggest us to hate because dependent, transitive properties. If those with whom I share a lot of broken pieces of my life, hating someone, then this is a valid motive to hate him too. And when you stop digging here, then the world becomes a Unicum of contrasts between "them" and "us" fascists, communists, blacks, Albanians, Civil, hungry, sluts, engraver, eartheater, polenta eaters, Jews, Arabs, police, criminals , junkies, dealers, do-gooders, moralists, transsexuals, doormen, security guards, civil servants, politicians, political animals, parasites, not revolutionaries, priests, hookers, techno, punk, long hair, squatters, journalists, Forza Italia, Northern League ... easy? This is how hatred in the newspaper and read from the home position from sofa to relate. This two arseholes but which we stock up straight punches, kicks and insults that I despise the other hand, because I can count the black dots on the nose of Napoletanischensondereinsatzgruppenoffiziers, because I see the holes in his teeth and smell his fetid breath as he I pressed my head to the anal examination on the hood of the car. The two since, which I hate because of this his colleague idiot of a Roman my buddy V in the freezing rain off and put him by his clothes on the ground, in mud and puddles and he again and again begin beating with the impact plastic handle on the knuckles . I despise him because he was just the contents of my wallet one by one, thrown up in the air because they have taken our scarves and burned, and because they have broken our dual holder in front of our noses under the threat that we see in the DIGOS for exhibition of politically subversive material. I despise them, because I look around me and the satisfied grin of the other guard dogs, see the rebellious actions of the police and the applauding faces of passing carcasses that enter at the toll booth toward the northern Italian lakes Gardaland or rubber. I despise them, because they cause me pain, to cheat me and I can not help it. Here I am: I am what you want me to.

[...]

Thirteen hours
There were thirteen hours I spent standing, apart from the bruises and burns open legs strewn reserved. The face in the dress of a freshly whitewashed wall mealy who would not let me breathe through my nose and made sure that I coughed up blood I ausrotzte at long intervals, because every time spitting meant a blow to the kidneys, a kick in the ass spine and sacrum, cut in pieces, hit your face against the wall so that it smashed the nose or a strong grip in the eggs, garnished with Hitler and sincerely stupid sayings about our tattoos, and the tits of the girls. Thirteen hours I had not rested, in which no one treated me to be chafed wrists or open wounds on the back of the eye, the right cheek bone or dislocated shoulder. No nurse came to inquire after my health, or to render assistance. If the military doctor came through, it was raining even more insults and more beatings. I wanted to sleep, yes. Sleep and peace. But in this place you could not even sleep in peace. So, WE NEED TO DO SO, AS WE WOULD ENJOY the whole night!! "We need to have fun, all night!" Proclaimed as ridiculous as the menacing head of the prison while he Bolzaneto my face pressed against the wall next to me. "So we enjoy ourselves!" I just wanted to sleep in peace. But that was impossible. Thirteen hours.

Does the hype about the World Cup in South Africa quietschbunt the way the federal government has the database " sports violence perpetrators '"legitimate" after the fact. Of course, only for those without official status.

Addendum: A kind of review's here now.