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Sometimes i ask myself: "Hey, and what if my computer would explode??"

I think of little pieces flying all around, me protecting my eyes, the noise of tecnology turning to molecula and atoms.

Yesterday i noticed there was a post with comments but no titles in my blog. Today i went back to check, because the night before i had just th t ime to fall asleep, and nothing else.

The post i called ‘REBUS‘ was gone. Saddam’s face was shown on it.

I just updated it, it should be more or less as the original.

What’s up?

A ghost in the shell?

 

In poche parole:

E’ scomparso il contenuto di un post: se qualcuno ha idea di come cio’ possa essere successo, please, comment. 

Ho rimesso online un back-up, forse non completamente identico.

Saluti e omaggi :* 

 

 

"We gave you the opportunity of doing it," the Red Queen remarked: "but I daresay you’ve not had many lessons in manners yet?"
"Manners are not taught in lessons," said Alice. "Lessons teach you to do sums, and things of that sort."
"And you do Addition?" the White Queen asked. "What’s one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?"
"I don’t know," said Alice. "I lost count."
"She can’t do Addition," the Red Queen interrupted. "Can you do Subtraction? Take nine from eight."
"Nine from eight I can’t, you know," Alice replied very readily: "but–"
"She can’t do Subtraction"’ said the White Queen. "Can you do Division? Divide a loaf by a knife–what’s the answer to that?"
"I suppose–" Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen answered for her. "Bread-and-butter, of course. Try another Subtraction sum. Take a bone from a dog: what remains?"
Alice considered. "The bone wouldn’t remain, of course, if I took it–and the dog wouldn’t remain; it would come to bite me –and I’m sure I shouldn’t remain!"
"Then you think nothing would remain?" said the Red Queen.
"I think that’s the answer."
"Wrong, as usual," said the Red Queen: "the dog’s temper would remain."
"But I don’t see how–"
"Why, look here!" the Red Queen cried. "The dog would lose its temper, wouldn’t it?"
"Perhaps it would," Alice replied cautiously.
"Then if the dog went away, its temper would remain!" the Queen exclaimed triumphantly.
Alice said, as gravely as she could, "They might go different ways." But she couldn’t help thinking to herself, "What dreadful nonsense we ARE talking!"

(Chap IX – Queen Alice)

This little blog has been under heavy spam attack during the last few days. Yesterday, after deleting 273 messages of spam, i closed comments on the post SenoritaTristeza.
That was produced in less than 40 hours.

Spam is something really dirty and disgusting, like fleas.

What is puzzling me is "what is all of this advertisement doing?" Are they really selling Viagra? And who is using it? Is it a big business? Or just annoyance?

I wonder how many men are using it. I wonder why these spiders decided my blog was a great place for selling it. It is ironic. I am totally unexperienced so i can only presume there are customers.

Lately i noticed spam is growing. A new generation of non-sense spam is also invading email boxes and capturing general information. They often give me the impression of a delirious post trip talk, when everything makes sense while if you think of it the meaning disappears like a shadow. Dreams, visions and reality are just the same. And you keep seeking the point where everything will be revealed. As you move, the imaginary worlds are sliding, and you render the first thing to understand is there is nothing to understand.

The net, overwhelmed by drugs and informations, starts spiting out a last non-sense complain.

 

This is a view form the room where i grew up, in my parents house in Milan.

This picture was taken during hot summer 2006, on August, in a deeply isolated environment. This was before his death, in the suburban area near the cemetery.

‘W SADDAM’, says the text written in red over a wall, in an industrial street.

The dictator is like a football team, he has fans.

A definition about him form wikipedia:

"Hussein was widely regarded as a "master of survival," making any assassination attempt difficult. He supposedly made use of body doubles, who have reportedly had plastic surgery and learned his mannerisms. He shied away from public appearances, preferring to use doubles for any such events…"

The Body Double, a sort of non-self, image without body, or body as pure, mere image, significant without referent. A contrary position from the iconoclastic idea of ‘non-image’ bare belief. Here the image is already a commercial product, can be spread, shown, copied. It does not have to be truth, it is representation.

The body becomes sacred, hidden, preserved, unreal.

The fake image supplants the actual appearance, which is, in a sense, protected, secret, obscured. The material person defend *self through a nomadic practice and a symbolic interface between private and public.

Again from wikipedia, a fragment of the explanation of the word Simulacrum:

"(plural: simulacra), from the Latin simulare, "to make like, to put on an appearance of", originally meaning a material object representing something … By the 1800s it developed a sense of a "mere" image, an empty form devoid of spirit, and descended to connote a specious or fallow representation … the French social theorist Jean Baudrillard gave the term a specific meaning in the context of semiotics, extended from its common one: a copy of a copy which has been so dissipated in its relation to the original that it can no longer be said to be a copy. The simulacrum, therefore, stands on its own as a copy without a model…"

 Here we reach another level, the copy, the symbol, the image that stands for itself, ‘killing’ the real with its appearance, the new mediated reality taking over the old material body and spirit.

 Off course Saddam did not want to be killed.

But where is the rebus?

 The question is the following: what was going on in the mind of the writer/painter/poet/unemployed who expressed the sentence ‘W Saddam’ in a  desolated street of Milan. I have been thinking of it for quite a while. When i went back in town, at the end of December, Saddam was about to be executed.

In Milan, nothing was changed:

 So what is the message?

I theorized today, traveling on a train, that it is a desperate denounce of the dirty, hypocritical freedoms that corporative neoliberalism is offering with a iced smile to this groaning world.