In tutte le polemiche sulla Gaddafi's visit and his alleged incitement Islamization of Europe (I say alleged because I did not have the patience to read the articles fully, so I'm not aware of the exact weight of his speech - but I have no difficulty imagine) the thing that struck me really annoyed and contemptuous opinion is on hostess, as defined with malice, that is paid to the female audience who attended to his utterances. On Facebook I read threads in which prostitutes were called, I heard that tore Franceschini easy applause by saying that their presence, that is their existence in a nutshell, it offended the Italian women. Even fewer would say the Littizzetto. I am not at all offense. I explained what their working day, paid the 70 € it is assumed important for a girl who does casual jobs, goes against the ethics and morality and decency? What affects my dignity as a woman? Apart from the fact that I think that even prostitutes can really do what they want with their body until proven guilty is the only thing that belongs to us in toto, but that's another story, much longer and more complex. I limit myself to the girls dressed decently and paid to have spent a day listening to an old dictator and colorful comedy in which they listened, and attention, and devoted time, hoping to pay much more substantial, many characters since I know very well and I'm not here to appoint not to waste time. First, evident, there is not even the shadow of a reason not to. Second, if the work is usually because you need money to meet the needs then maybe you also do boring things, even humiliating, without any fuss. Third, even if you work for an agency is not the case to refuse an engagement like that, you risk being removed from the lists. Fourth, it was not a task to sbeffiare. I did a lot of work when I was a student, ninety-nine point nine percent of them bored me to death in and of itself, but maybe I was intrigued and pleased when I accepted them, as do the standista nei saloni dove ho venduto gelati, rulli magici e mobili del rinascimento canadese. All'epoca, mi avessero chiesto di fare la "hostess" chez Gheddafi ci sarei corsa, per i soldi e per la curiosità di partecipare a un evento diverso dalla solita routine di babysitteraggio e ripetizioni a zucconi (anzi, da zuccona a zuccone). Il fatto è che di questi tempi "si porta" il moralismo sulle donne. Dai difensori delle donne ormai professionali, come Gad Lerner che si è assunto questo compito come una missione e il trombone Adriano Sofri che tra un moralismo e una lacrima al ciglio ci rassicura quotidianamente sulla nostra superiorità, ai desolati per la mancanza di ideali delle ragazze che voglio tutte fare le veline, a quelli che il velo no però come la mettiamo con le nostre ragazze che se ne vanno a culo nudo ecc ecc. Magari smettetela, smettiamola, di preoccuparci e lasciate che ci pensino loro. Le ragazze non lo ve l'hanno, non ce l'hanno chiesto di mostrargli sempre la fiaccola della virtù per indicargli la via. E per una Noemi che fatica pateticamente a procedere sulla sua scorciatoria, ce ne sono tante altre che sognano cazzate finché sono ragazzine e poi a colpi di nasate e scivoloni imparano. Sono ben altri problemi delle donne, e non parlo solo di Iran e Afghanistan. Comunque, qui voglio solo dire: un po' di rispetto per queste ragazze che hanno fatto un giorno di lavoro facile, mal retribuito, ridicolo, certo inutile. Ma onesto lavoro.
Se proprio devo pensare a una cosa that fills me with indignation, it offends me, I turned the bowels, a little something from our own, not a plaque or anything important, is the chilling broadcast on Channel 5 when I dropped the eye once and never again, why not I want to ruin my dinner and the evening: The Velone. That means that it is offensive for women and for men. The idea that someone look at it for a laugh disgusts me. Hell would be a good punishment for Gaddafi and for our young prime minister, his close friend in sessuomania.
