I hate to speak against my people. And by "my people" I mean the heritage I might remotely be a part of, am asked about often, and apparently love encouraging. People often ask me if I am from New York (which you know I love) or if I am Italian (which I love even more). Who is going to read this innocuous mistake as anything but flattery? Not I. I may have on one or two (hundred) occasions fully asserted such a conclusion. Who hasn't? And I wouldn't now since fabricating tales in the presence of my two year old seems highly unsavory.
BUT, back in the day, when innocently mistaken for a Signora, why would I undermine someone's mere interest in making conversation by correcting them when a simple grazie would do? Perhaps that shirt emblazoned with ITALIA across the front, or that when in Spain I would toss out Italian phrases like flowers at a wake, well, I may have contributed to the mistake, but just a touch. The fact is, my paternal grandfather's ancestry is unknown other than the limited detail he was "European" and since that little boot of land sits in Europe...there you have it. So before I further digress, let's get down to business.
While I love all things Italia, there has been a hiccup. Which has led the second longest-serving Prime Minister of the Italian Republic, Silvio Berlusconi, to look strikingly like a boy donkey. In response to a earthquake on April 16 that left thousands of his countrymen and women homeless, he responded, "They should see it like a weekend of camping."
I don't gather you, Prime Minister Berlusconi, have probably ever been camping. Versace has yet to make a tent. I am not a tremendous aficionado either, trust me. But your people, with their incredible genes and innate sense of style, well, even the most rugged of your constituents would likely not choose "land covered in rubble and debris" as the perfect place for camping. Or maybe they can "camp" in their cars. Uh oh, they can't. Because their cars are filled with dirt, trees, and broken concrete.
I am no mountain ranger, but I promise you an earthquake that destroys homes and leaves people with nothing but the threads on their back is a not the modern day equivalent to over-nighting in a sleeping bag and making s'mores. Good job Prime Minister, your compassion cup overfloweth.
And you sir, are the JA of the day.