Suffocate
I know I borrowed the title of a beautiful book by Pahlaniuk. But that's my feeling. I don't know why, honestly: in the last post I wrote that I knew that the Eurofestival was censored and therefore rigged (what did you vote for, if you haven't REALLY seen the festival?).
But then, obviously, I found a video on the internet with footage of the real performance. Exact. You cannot think of actually censoring an event that is under the eyes and cameras on the cell phones of hundreds of people. Not in 2024.
And so, here is the performance of the Israeli singer. What seemed to happen on uncensored channels was with an adoring public, almost in silence. And which in reality was almost covered by whistles and curses. Here's the part you didn't really see, because an AI removed the boos and boos, and the audience seemed to be made up of "hibernating monitor lizards" (cit.)
And I know you're now wondering why I'm angry at “discovering” something I had already deduced using logic: a lowering of the audience's sound level during a contested singer's performance was obviously suspicious. Removing white signal is NEVER an efficient thing, because white noise is fundamental in a concert. There was no need for proof where logic was enough.
So why does a non-surprise make me so dizzy? What affects me viscerally?
You know that I was a "problem" teenager. Very problematic. From different points of view. I did everything the priests hated, and everything the communists hated. And no, I wasn't a fascist. I hated those too. But there weren't any, so mine was a theoretical hatred. Let's say I could have hated them if I had seen one, but the best the place offered was Gianfranco Fini and his useless little party, an imitation of the unity parties. In short, there were no fascists, so I hated the censors who were there: the Church and the PCI. (which then were so mirrored that distinguishing them was very complicated)
I was growing up in a fucking little town, where you couldn't buy Heavy Metal music because the PCI had decided that it was "music played by white people and then listened to by white people". Since the municipality bought, through the library, the leftover records from the local music shop, it could apply pressure, so Inti Illimani remained in the shop window for almost five years. Five years.
To buy music we had to order it in England via catalogue. Or go up to Comacchio. In Comacchio there was a bishopric, so at the time it was strongly Christian Democrat. So there was freedom in the American creed, and you could buy Venom.
We went to the Bishop's city to buy Satan.
I know. It's paradoxical. But the local church was angry with my sexual habits, (they cared little about music) habits of which they knew much less than anyone could, but invented much more than they should have: the fucking priest (who already if they send you to be a priest in an area like that, you must have pissed off the Pope himself) kept shoveling shit on me, telling everything he could imagine on the subject of out-of-the-ordinary sex. And proving that he has little imagination. I was doing way more fun things by the time I was thirteen and a half than that old asshole could imagine at maximum effort. He was also mediocre in sexual fantasies.
And I didn't give a damn, since I went to buy Venom, Sodom and Possessed in his boss's fiefdom, and I continued to ignore them at least until, when I entered the bar asking for a coffee, it was served to me in the plastic cup instead of the cup, like for everyone else. The voice had changed. I was the one who did dirty things: I was disappointed by the lack of imagination and inventiveness of the priest and his faithful, but in the final analysis, those who are good in bed certainly don't go to church.
The result was that, in addition to making it even worse, the feeling of suffocation made me violent. As violent as a violent teenager. When a teenager is angry and violent. Some episodes resulted that I don't feel like recounting. But you will have understood: the feeling of suffocation makes you enter a "survival" state, and in that state you do things. I've done despicable things. (cit.)
Why this level of violence? The feeling of an invisible enemy, working only behind your back, lying, cowardly and evanescent, charged me. The feeling of not being able to touch him, of this toxic fog all around me, made me feel like I was suffocating. Their stench nauseated me, suffocated me, made the air sticky and nauseating. The stench of priests is nauseating, it smells of cowardice and human misery. And the “communists” weren't much different, they were just a plastic copy.
Now, the feeling of suffocation disappeared when I went to live alone in Bologna. And with it the violence disappeared. Like a deflating balloon. But the point is that this shit that the rabbis did at the festival is the usual fucking lying and disgusting method of all the priests in the world, regardless of religion . If you're a priest in some fucking religion, you become a coward, a pathological liar, and a disgusting, creeping piece of shit . And little by little, you drag your faithful with you, into your boundless expanse of small, repugnant human miseries and embarrassing means.
a monotheistic religion is nothing more than an anthill, in which the faithful all think the same thing and all do the same things in the same way, at the service of a mother ant who claims to be the parent of all ants, and for this reason she is fed and worshiped like a divinity. A mere anthill.
And that's why when I found the video I found the old feeling of suffocation. but how the fuck dare you, miserable expanse of stinky desert shepherds?
This is why seeing censorship at work gives me a physical effect. Visceral.
I take it as a personal assault. Because if you want MY eyes to see your false world, your pathological lie as a shitty monotheist, you are talking about MY eyes. It's personal. It's you, and there's me. And you are my enemy. For you there is only hatred, contempt. Those are my eyes, those are my ears. My body. It's me.
And you, piece of shit, whether you are from Moroccanoil or from some Netanyahu-friendly "political" party, have attacked my eyes. This isn't politics. This is not general and abstract. It's you who tries to hit my eyes so they don't see. Try to close my ears so they don't hear. It's personal. It's you and me, as then, and probably as always.
Well. You managed to hold my eyes for two days, but my brain caught you instantly. You're not strong. You're not smart. You are not powerful. You're not a damn thing.
And like your fellow priests, you don't even have enough creativity to do a good job: you could have replaced the audience's boos using other white noise from any audience, from another concert. Instead of an AI system, all you would have needed was a parallel sound diffusion system, with which you could spread the noise of a joyful crowd. And even the cell phones on site would not have been able to record boos and boos.
the correct solution was not to remove the whistles and boos. It was to add applause. You can't remove white noise. But you can increase it.
But you are mediocre, as are all the other priests like you, and their followers. You can't come up with something brilliant. You treated the whistles and boos as if they were missiles to be stopped. Stupid and mediocre. Now as then, monotheistic religions do nothing but recruit ants, mediocre and petty. But always ants.
Boring in your mediocrity.
Dear priest, I am not mediocre. I know how to read a history book. And I know how to make you disappear. It's not difficult or even tiring. And yes, I call you a priest, because ultimately Christianity is just a messianic variant of Judaism, and Islam is an eschatological version of both. You are all the same. Priests. But making you disappear is simple.
To make you disappear, just pretend you don't exist. Just don't see each other. Just don't see what happens to you. Just don't see the boos. Just don't see the boos. A shop? Burnt? In that corner? Really? I don't remember it. That professor? Never seen it. In the chair, you say? Never heard of it. Smoke? Behind that hill? I don't know. October 7th? What happened? I didn't see anything. I was at the restaurant. I don't know anything. Was there a match? What did Bologna do? I didn't see anything.
Don't think you're strong, your book sucks and doesn't teach anything useful. Your own god is useless. It's no use.
I just need to close my eyes and pretend not to see you. And you disappear. Just don't see that you are hated, and you disappear. It's simple. It's not tiring. They're throwing missiles at you, you say? But are you sure? I don't know. Never heard of it.
It's already happened. Works. Read a history book, and you will learn what happens when people stop seeing people who boo and insult you.
So don't close my eyes: if you want to live, it's better that everyone has opened them.
And you know what? The worst thing I could do is pretend to fall for your lie. Nothing happened at ESC. I didn't see anything. There were no boos. Nobody booed. I don't remember anything strange. And even if they were there, they didn't feel good.
Why is this Israeli singer posing as a victim, then?
They didn't boo her.
The smoke behind the hill, you say? I don't remember.
You're just a mediocre priest, like all monotheists. Don't challenge anyone who has read more than one book. It doesn't suit you.
You were saying, a smoking chimney? I don't remember. I didn't see anything. I didn't know anything.
Are you still sure you want to cover my eyes, you miserable desert shepherd?
Do you remember, what happens – to you – when people no longer see those who whistle and shout at you? And are you really sure you want to close my eyes and ears? Wasn't once enough for you, when everyone stopped seeing and knowing, when no one saw the hatred, and millions of you disappeared? Are you sure you want censorship?
And to think that, if you had let the booing pass on TV, I would probably be here writing in defense of your singer, about the stupidity of covering a song with booing. Or about the stupidity of booing someone for the country they come from. I would have felt suffocated by those who booed it so I wouldn't listen to it.
But no, because you didn't make me hear the boos, and therefore I can't get pissed off by the boos who censor it: YOU censored it, it's YOU who suffocates me.
But because of your censorship I didn't hear any whistles, so I didn't see any victims.
And it was you, idiot, who closed my eyes and ears.
And you know what I tell you? I tell you I'll do as you want. And if from tomorrow an Israeli singer is booed just because she is Israeli, I will do what you want, I will satisfy the censorship you have set up: I won't hear the booing.
You're happy…
Were you talking about October 7th? Who was it that scored the goal then?
Uriel Fanelli
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