Fun times in Europe's Boot
Mama mia, those nutty Italians are making headlines for all kinds of reasons nowadays. Take your pick: bootlegged Ferrari's, newly minted political logos, saint exhumation, whatever.
I'm particularly enthused by the first one, though. Imagine: Where you could once hit the streets of Rome and pick up fake Prada and Gucci bags (or PruCci bags, in New York City), you can now scrounge about your couch cushions for 20,000 euros and pick yourself up a faux Ferrari. And your friends will have no idea that you're not a drug dealer who just hit a big score.
Then again, you might be too late. Police are working to shut down the whole operation and have already confiscated 21 cars.
But maybe hope's not lost. There's probably some bootleg-sympathetic political party that's thrown its fedora into Italy's April general election. So far, 180 symbols of political groups have been submitted to the Interior Ministry. Among them are representative images of the "No Garbage Party," and, my favorite, "Dr. Cirillo's party of existentialist impotents." I think I'd lend my support to the "party for fewer political parties in Italy." If I have any influence, this party will double as a political subversive unit and thereby, somehow, compete directly with both the "Italian Communist Marxist Leninist Party" and the "I Don't Vote" party.
If materialism and politics aren't your cup of espresso, you're in luck. If you have any interest in Catholic mysticism, embalming fluid/morgue culture/undertaking or manicures and the other forms of hand-maintenance, then perhaps you might make a trip to see the body of exhumed saint Padre Pio.
Forty years into his eternity in paradise, Pio's been called back down to the minors to go on display to his devoted fans. And while his face is reportedly just recognizable and his body is in fair condition, Pio fans can gawk at his nearly remarkably preserved stigmata-bearing hands that one archbishop described as appearing to just have been manicured. (Off the record, I'd have to doubt that last part; while I've never had a manicure, I would hope that if I did, my hands would come out looking better than ones that bear the nail wounds of Christ's crucifixion.)
Anyway, it looks like the boot of the Mediterranean has got a little something for everyone, but if it doesn't, you can just go ahead and create a political party or advocacy group that will accommodate your wildest fantasy.