Here we go again. On time. Inevitably. It had already happened with the Franzoni and the Cogne crime, with Erika and Omar, and the massacre of Novi Ligure, with Amanda and Raffaele and the murder of Meredith Kercher a Perugia, con Alberto Stasi e la tragedia di Garlasco. Adesso tocca alla povera Sarah Scazzi. Ogni qualvolta la cronaca nera italiana viene drammaticamente alla ribalta, con squartamenti e orribili rappresentazioni macabre stile Grand Guignol, ecco immancabile la massiccia e ossessiva presenza televisiva di trasmissioni e speciali dedicati a questo o a quel mostro, al tal delitto o al movente di quell'altro efferato crimine. Una serie interminabile di parole, opinioni, sentenze, processi mediatici e quant'altro, tutti declinati in nome di una sorta di orgia della pornografia dei sentimenti e del talk show da quattro soldi, della seduta psicoanalitica nel salotto tv e della gara a chi la spara più grossa. Ovviamente immolando il tutto sull'altare degli share of listening. Nearly two months after the tragic death of fifteen-Avetrana, ten days after the solution of the crime (with the upgrade of the involvement of her cousin Sabrina, with her father in prison ogre) that so shocked the national public opinion, here is that the cameras of the major TV networks do not mention any way to loosen its grip on Misseri to turn the spotlight on the village in the province of Taranto, to pull the plug on this grim and grisly theater of pain cathode. Indeed, if possible, is undergoing a kind of repulsive resurgence of grief and suffering to almost unified networks. Just think of the two main living rooms of the state TV and commercial ( Porta a Porta and Matrix), united nearly to the utmost in going on the air at the same time and almost the same guests, those ubiquitous and virtually interchangeable. Like the good old days. Precisely those of Cogne and Garlasco, Perugia and the rosary beads of the infinite passion and bloody crimes. But frankly, a direct link to the cemetery I did not ever see him on television. I think it's the new frontier of journalism, evil and inhuman, that only a sick mind (also as an actor) and could imagine putting it into practice. Friday morning, during the infamous television program of the equally infamous snake (I'm talking of course of Five Morning and Channel 5 , already notorious for the ugly to the news service on the court Mesiano), dressed in a pseudo journalist appeared before the cameras of Mediaset surrounded by the tombstones of the cemetery Avetrana. Who knows, maybe in the name of freedom of the press (and perhaps in search of an unexpected scoop ) had started in favor of camera in a strategic position, probably hoping for some tip-off from the grave to blurt all'incuriosita conductive Federica Panicucci . The tip did not come, but not for the unworthiness of the pseudo reporter: it is known that the dead are quite a few words. Returning to the TV serial representation of pain and bloody, I must emphasize that almost all (with rare exceptions due and) operators information (or disinformation, do vobis) have been so tough by not stopping at nothing, especially not by never stop, despite the fact that the news are always the same, that the monster on the front page has already been beaten (and jail) and also the surprise of the ogre's daughter in jail has been metabolized. And so, in the absence of new events or other unexpected events, here is that the diligent search for truth is launched, with courage and contempt of danger (even if it gets to take home at the end of the loaf month), almost like a pack of dogs nose in pursuit of the news quell'eldorado exclusive that most of them suck. So down with doubts, with the reconstructions, with the background, the inferences and assumptions, even the most far-fetched and fanciful. The important thing is to attract the attention of the people of CRT, perhaps through an extreme close-up of the eyes of Michele Misseri (the ogre), not even the interpreter was a retrospective of the Sergio Leone westerns targati . By following all the usual hoard of views by criminologists, psychologists, conspiracy, lawyers, presenteeism, the girlie show (a nice pair of legs and two beautiful breasts have never hurt anyone) and babbling away. The fury and passion put into place by the partners in their sterile conversations almost a sort of black humor, almost involuntary, and I remain difficult to explain (to myself first, then to my readers) why the television audience is so morbidly drawn to the pain and dall'alibi that crime gives in to peer into the lives of others. This could be an ideal topic for a talk show a bit more serious or serious, for once putting the media in the dock. Why, I would say, whatever the answer to the question, the responsibility of the media (with their spectacular fan the flames of each cost) is becoming intolerable and loathsome. Someone, perhaps rightly, discussed the alleged sins of Federica Sciarelli, unable to stop his Chi l'ha visto? while the mother of the poor live Sarah learned of the confession of the brother-murderess. But Sciarelli, at least in my humble opinion, had a big mitigating found herself face to face with the news. Under the same train. And what about the cables, the pundits and "experts" that after days continue undeterred to beat blood and tears in a mortar television? How do you find acceptable, if not a duty, this feeling of shocking pornography? Then I wonder: if this is not the worst of pornography, which are waiting to urge the beatification process for Moana Pozzi?
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