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Internet In The Alps

Ah, the simple things we take for granted in the United States. Almost everyone has tons of internet access at speeds that range anywhere from 6MPS to over a 100MPS. It’s what we call “normal.” We may be a bit spoiled though.

To be sure, internet speeds can be comparable in Italy, if you live in the city. We, on the other hand, have been treated to the underbelly of the internet where we live in the Italian Alps. The reason? We live in a super rural section of the mountainous South Tirol where an internet connection of any kind is a luxury and an extremely poor connection is the norm.

When we first moved to Italy, all that we had available was a dial-up connection through our rural phone line. The top download rate was 14KPS – YES KPS! We once downloaded a Windows update that took several days. Making matters worse, whenever we returned from the United States our phone line main wire was always mysteriously disconnected down at the centrale, the central phone hub in our small village. Both our voice and internet connections were so scratchy that it made their use next to impossible. I finally told TELECOM Italia to take their piss poor service and give it a mighty shove. (It actually sounds a lot better in Italian….)

We then graduated to the chiavetta. This is a USB interfaced SIM card that receives a signal from a tower enabling internet access. It sounded good but we soon found that the signal’s strength undulated and faded away altogether frequently. However we were getting speeds of up to 4 MPS and it is a great improvement (relatively) over the dial-up regime. We rolled along with this program for a few years.

Then in 2018 we returned to Italy and tried to renew our chiavetta connection. Bummer! It seemed that the little bugger didn’t work with Windows 10. (Gosh, can you imagine that?) When I rushed down to the computer store in the largest adjacent village, I was told that they didn’t sell chiavette any longer and that I would have to purchase a mobile hot spot. It is the same technology as the USB device but it broadcasts a WIFI signal anywhere in your house. Cool! My wife had brought her tablet and I brought over my laptop so I thought we were all set.

Aside from an unintelligible array of lights which I still don’t understand, the download speeds were disappointing; the same as before. However, the mobile hot spot ate up about twice the data as the old chiavetta. So now we were paying twice as much for the same data and getting the same flaky reception. The signal quality comes and goes. It’s like that little girl with the curl: When it’s good, it’s very, very good and when it’s bad it’s horrid.

You knew there was going to be a clincher, didn’t you? Yes indeed! It’s called tourism. Every July 1, the albergo (hotel) near us hosts between 8 and 20 dancing students for a month. Of course these little urchins are thumbing away on their phones and computers 24-7 making a connection at our house nearly impossible as everyone shares the same tower. Then come the hordes of tourists, arriving between July 1 and August 1 for the big tamale, Ferragosto on August 15. The run-up to this holiday marks the beginning of an entire month where everyone is on vacation and all of the factories are shut down. (No wonder Italian GPD is always in the dumper,)  The result for us is almost zero internet for the summer. Of course we can always try to connect at three in the morning but even then it seems that our sleepless Italian friends have eaten up the bandwidth like a lingering midnight snack.

Internet in the Alps? You would have better odds of winning the lottery!

PS – I had to drive many kilometers to a public library to upload this ditty!

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Huge Discount

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Sales ends 7-31-2018 Order today!

In exchange for this super low price, please leave a review with #Amazon It will be much appreciated.

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Hushabye is the name of a song that was written by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman in 1959 for the doo-wop vocal group The Mystics. It is based on the lullaby “All the Pretty Horses”. It spent sixteen weeks on Billboard Hot 100 (nine of those in the top 40), reaching #20 at its peak. It’s an American classic, especially for those of us who grew up in the 1950’s and 1960’s.

The Mystics are a singing group which began in Brooklyn, New York, USA in the late 1950s. The group was known as The Overons, a quintet that, when signed to Laurie Records, consisted of Phil Cracolici (b. 1937, lead), Albee Cracolici (b. 1936, baritone), George Galfo (b. 1939, second tenor), Bob Ferrante (b. 1936, first tenor), and Al Contrera (b. 1940, bass). Under the direction of their manager, Jim Gribble, The Overons became The Mystics when each group member wrote a name they liked on a slip of paper, placed the papers in a hat and Al Contrera’s choice was drawn.

Hushabye is a lyrically simple song but very well suited for the doo-wop sound. However, this song was covered by the Beach Boys on their 1964 album All Summer Long , featuring Brian Wilson and Mike Love on lead vocals.

Give both a listen here and let me know what you think. Which is best?

Mystics –
Beach Boys –

Hushabye was also covered by The Kingsmen (1966), Jay and the Americans (1969), and Robert John (1982)

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Musical Migrants

The migrant dilemma in Europe has finally hit a ludicrous and overdue crescendo. After years of unbridled illegal immigration courtesy of Germany’s Angela Merkel, the tide has decisively changed. What started out as an all out welcome mat by Germany has become a poor man’s rendition of musical migrants.

With the influx of hundreds of thousands of economic migrants, the EU has finally, begrudgingly accepted the fact that all of Africa and the Mid-East cannot be transported to Europe. There simply isn’t enough space, money and will to make this impossibility happen. The average EU resident has been embittered by overly generous benefits to often undeserving immigrants who won’t respect the language, culture, religion and even the eating habits of their host countries. This author has seen firsthand that migrants often throw away food given to them by local “do-gooders.” They bark that they can’t eat such stuff (as opposed to not eating at all in their homelands?) Most illegal immigrants also receive 35 Euro a day per head, a free smart phone, lodging, free healthcare and other benefits. When compared to what legitimate EU residents receive, it is a frustrating and pathetic quandary for the local populace.

Germany was the chief sponsor of illegal migration for years. France followed suit until they realized they couldn’t have half of Africa living under Paris bridges. It is only recently that both the German public and government have said in one loud voice, “genug!” This, combined with the fact that Greece and Italy were both used as dumping grounds for migrants, has given Europe a need to rethink their policy. Indeed, Italy recently joined Hungary, Austria  and several other countries in opposing unchecked immigration. Germany’s foreign minister piled on as well, adding that he supported “closing the borders.” The result: Frau Merkel is toast!

During the whole ugly process migrants have been shifted from Greece to Italy to France to Spain in an unending game of musical migrants. The “not in my back yard” mentality prevails. If one sovereign country says no, their neighbors pile on but of course they don’t want them either. Where will this game end? The EU favors the court process which would take years and years. There are more populist minds afoot who see the honest need to stop all illegal immigration from Africa and the Middle East all together. In the meantime, honest, hard working EU citizens must put up with pan handling in front of every supermarket, higher taxes, lower benefits and slowly collapsing economies.

Musical migrants? Probably not for much longer!

See my prior post:

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So In Love

Cole Porter is one of my favorite composers, both for music his and his clever lyrics that often use internal rhyming. I have written here in the past about In The Still Of The Night which I consider to be one of his finest works:

Throughout his prolific career, Cole Porter wrote many, many great songs, some of which have become the backbone of American composition. I can think of four or five of his songs that are truly great. They served as inspiration for my own song writing for so many years in addition to being just plain enjoyable. One of my favorites is So In Love from his 1948 musical Kiss Me Kate. This show had 1,077 performances before closing on July 28. 1951.

So In Love employs an unusual musical score and great lyrics that simply make most normal people feel the joy of love with a tear in their eye. It is such a popular song that many people have recorded it throughout the years including:

Julie Andrews, Josephine Barstow & Thomas Hampson, Shirley Bassey, Mimi Benzell, Vikki Carr, Rondi Charleston, Andy Cole, Chick Corea, Bing Crosby, Deborah DeDe Wedekind, Plácido Domingo, Tommy Dorsey, Alfred Drake, Lara Fabian & Mario Frangoulis, Eddie Fisher, Ella Fitzgerald, Renée Fleming & Bryn Terfel, The Four Lads, Sergio Franchi, Lily Frost, Roberta Gambarini, Lesley Garrett, Robert Goulet & Carol Lawrence, Kathryn Grayson & Howard Keel, Jane Harvey, Dick Haymes, Edmund Hockridge & Janine Roebuck, Mark Jacoby, Betty Johnson, Allan Jones, Stan Kenton, Dave King, Lisa Kirk, k.d. lang, Mario Lanza, Steve Lawrence, Peggy Lee, Liane & The Boheme Bar Trio, Guy Lombardo’s Orchestra, Julie London, Joe Loss and His Orchestra, Lulu, Patti LuPone, Gordon MacRae, Sue Matthews, Marin Mazzie & Brian Stokes Mitchell, Nichola McAuliffe & Paul Jones, Robert Merrill & Roberta Peters, Vaughn Monroe, Diana Montague & Thomas Allen, Patricia Morison & Alfred Drake, Patricia Morison & Bill Johnson, Joan Morris, Georg Ots, Patti Page, Johnny Prophet, John Raitt, Patricia Routledge & David Holliday, Diane Schuur, Dinah Shore, Cesare Siepi, Frank Sinatra & Keely Smith, Dakota Staton, Enzo Stuarti, Kiri Te Kanawa, Trio Désolé, The Tymes, Jerry Vale, Marlene VerPlanck, Dinah Washington, Julie Wilson, Will Wright, Earl Wrightson, Rachel York & Brent Barrett, Caetano Veloso, and Bob Dylan.

That’s a monster list and I’ve included it here to show just how popular this song was and still is. If you have never heard this song, please give it a listen and let me know what you think. You can leave a comment here on this blog.

Here the clip from the 2004 movie De-Lovely

Here is another recording by Mario Frangoulis and Lara Fabian:

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Italy – Time For Change

This March it looked at though Italy was poised to have its 67th government since World War II. However things are rarely what they seem here in the land of pasta.

After a two month hiatus a provisional government seemed imminent as the far right Lega Party and the left leaning Five Star Party agreed to share power and attempt to form a new government. They got together and proposed an unknown lawyer named Giuseppe Conte as Prime Minister, despite Mr. Conte’s dubious resume which according to many was a fantasy on paper. He lasted a mere four days before the whole Italian house of cards fell down. Why? President Sergio Mattarella would not approve the new government’s choice for Finance Minister because of his anti-EU stance in the past. In a true democracy this would not propose an insurmountable problem. Another acceptable candidate would be put forth and the government would go on. But remember, Italy has a parliamentary form of government that rarely functions. Conte bowed out, leaving Italy’s population in the lurch.

President Mattarella then took a most unusual step. He unilaterally appointed an old ex-IMF crony interim Prime Minister, thus nullifying the will of the Italian people and its millions of voters. In the end, two important points were obvious. The Italian population had not voted for Conte or his replacement, once again exposing the major flaws of a parliamentary form of government.

While Italy is Europe’s third largest economy and one of the founding members of the European Union, its political system is medieval at best. Their form of government simply does not work and does not reflect the will of its people. A vote in Italy is dismissed as easily as a stop sign.

Most people in Italy generally feel that they are the poor serfs of Germany and rightfully so. Germany under Merkel has become a political bully to the rest of Europe. It now has all the signs of a 1939 Germany, sans the swastika. To boot Germany, as self-appointed head of the entire EU, has designated Italy as the main dumping ground for the millions of migrants that attempt to enter the EU every year. The average Italian, despite being socially liberal, has simply had enough. Why they ask should an illegal migrant be given free housing, 35 Euro a day per head, a new cell phone and countless other benefits while they are living in relative poverty?

The big news flash came on June 1 as Matarella finally conceded power to the persistent but fragile coalition. They offered to out their original choice for Finance Minister and keep the original puppet Prime Minister in the person of Conte. To most Italians, including this Tirolean, it seemed no more than a poor game musical chairs to the tune of Pop Goes The Weasel. More than anything, it seemed as a move to appease a pissed-off populace ahead of Republic Day (June 2). We’ll see what develops. But something had better happen soon.

Italians voted for a fundamental change and received in return a repudiation of their vote compounded by juvenile political maneuvering. Italy is doomed to remain a third world mini power unless they change their entire political system very soon. A parliamentary system simply doesn’t work in a country so full of technocrats, old cronies and mafia driven career politicians. Perhaps they should consider giving the U.S. model a try. It certainly wouldn’t do any harm.

For more on this subject, see my earlier post:

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Several of you undoubtedly recall my various slaps at our education system in the United States. In a word, it is an embarrassment. The United States now ranks 17th in education world-wide with even lower rankings for math and reading. What has happened?

When I was an English teacher nearly 50 years ago, the United States ranked number one. I honestly thought it would be that way forever. Why not? What could possibly change it? Apparently, everything!

It’s not a money thing. When I taught English, I was making a whopping $11,800 per year and that included extra pay for being a credentialed reading specialist. Today, the average high school teacher’s salary is $47,259. While that is not a fortune and surely teachers have been and are still underpaid, the money thing would still seem not to apply. So what’s changed in the last 50 years? A lot!

First, the collective will of America to properly educate their children has diminished. Education is no longer considered the most important thing in a child’s life. Too often, the most important thing is a cell phone with which the average child learns LOL but can’t spell the word laughing. Today’s kids have too much of everything and therefore don’t see the same urgency in learning as prior generations.

Second, education standards have been lowered to accommodate minorities and disadvantaged students. Standardized testing has continually been down shifted to allow minority and disadvantaged students to score passing grades. Kids aren’t held back to re-complete grades as they once were. In today’s world everyone get’s a participation trophy and there is little motivation to truly be the best.

Third, the quality of teaching personnel has greatly degraded. In many locations, people who teach our youth are not even required to be credentialed to do so. It’s like anyone with a heart and some free time is allowed to teach. Background checks are sketchy as well. When I taught in public schools, I was first required to submit to a complete FBI background check and swear my allegiance to the United States in front of a federal judge. Try that today! A neighbor of mine recently told me that their daughter’s teacher simply tells the class to look up things on the internet; the teacher can not be bothered with actual teaching because she is too busy texting her boyfriend with the hope of getting laid.

Fourth, even though there has been a continual cry for more money, schools are not adequately funded. They never have been. Money that is set aside for schools often never arrives in the classroom; it is eaten up and wasted in the bureaucracy of school administration and local politics. New programs are often politically motivated and wind up being a waste of precious money that should be put into qualified teachers, books and computers.

Fifth, the change in curriculum over the years has “dumbed down” our young scholars. Cursive writing is no longer taught, foreign languages still remain an elective subject and even basic reading skills are not taught today. There will always be the need to write a coherent letter or have a meaningful conversation yet our children are not being prepared for these most simple tasks. To be prepared to interact with other cultures who speak other languages is all but out of the question and relegated to fantasy land.

Sixth, there is no real want to be educated on the part of much of today’s youth. They would rather play on the smart phone and see no real need for much formal education. Most can’t look into the future beyond today’s Instagram. With a lack of aspiration on both the part of students and teachers, there is no motivation to be educated. As Pelagius said, “There is no worse death than the end of hope.”

If these six crucial points can be addressed by students, teachers and the public at large, there is a chance that we can once again be number one in education. More importantly, we can regain our place in the world as leaders and innovators. Without drastic intervention very soon, we will be doomed to be a nation of dummies.

PS – Let’s not forget the trades. We have an acute shortage of plumbers, carpenters, metal workers and other trades people. If you want your washing machine repaired, you’re apt to see a guy my age show up at your door. We need more education in these areas as well.

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The Klingon From France

Living in Europe, we constantly seek television programming in our native parlance of English. Unfortunately we have only a TV line-up selected by Socialists. It includes France 24 in English. Like BBC and virtually every other channel, they are usually vehemently anti-American in their coverage of world news.

Broadcasts often start, “Another day, another shooting in America.” Their distaste for America exudes from every pore. There is virtually nothing they like of my native country, from our current president to our politics to our very culture. Nasty is the word that described them best.

However, nowhere in the selection of channels is the anti-American spirit so bold as on France 24 in the person of reporter Douglas Herbert, International Affairs Correspondent. With every breath, he seethes his anti-American sentiment, punctuated with bits of drooling sarcasm. If there is something good to report, he always finds a way to diminish it and substitute it with his own personal brand of hate for America.  His latest salvos have been directed at Israel and the United States over the relocation of our embassy to Jerusalem. News flash little Klingon: The United States of America can put its embassy any damn place it wants to; we don’t need special permission from an anti-Semitic Europe nor do we need your crap after the fact.

Note the title of this blog post. Monsieur Herbert does indeed resemble a Klingon warrior from Star Trek, both in bug-eyed looks and temperament. A douche? No, just a Klingon in every respect! His demeanor, voice and comportment all scream Klingon aggression and unfortunately it is so often aimed directly at the United States. When he speaks about international affairs, he vomits his anti-Americanism. He is never neutral and he always tries to play the  poor man’s Joan of Arc against the United States.

To be fair, I actually generally like France 24 news reporting, sans the Klingon. Florence Villiminot and Nadia Charbit are delightful, informative and downright fun. Other contributors are also great reporters, often bringing a somewhat non-biased approach to their reporting. It is only the Klingon who seems to always spew his anti-Americanism on every broadcast in knee jerk fashion. He comes on the air agitated and prepared to do battle. Why? Is he not a fan of Lafayette? Is he not a fan of liberty? Is he off somewhere during the night polishing his photon torpedoes? What the frog gives?

Unfortunately, Monsieur Herbert, Monsieur Klingon Commander is not alone in the European anti-American news corps league. British, German, Italian and almost all European outlets seem to take great satisfaction in running down the United States of America at every opportunity. Why? We have rebuilt their pathetic little countries after two world wars and two German aggressions yet they seem to be eternally pissed at us and our every nuance. If we are not stuffing money in their pockets, they turn on us at every juncture. In a word: Bullshit! Europe, it’s time for you to grow up, grow a pair and pick your friends more carefully.

If U.S. news broadcasts started with. “Another day, another terrorist attack in France and another knifing in London,” we would hear a whine heard around the world. These folks would come uncorked in an instant, leaving their Champagne and Brown Sauce bottles askew. Please little brothers, you are not so damned special. You are just small specks in the global firmament who don’t really count for squat. Show a little respect!

A little piece of advice for the Klingon and his anti-American contingent: Editorial reviews belong on the third page, not on the front page above the fold. In other words, save your personal opinions and grievances and just report the world news straight up without your personal distaste for America. Merci beaucoup! (Qatlho’)

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Addio Marcello

I recall a day from 21 years ago as though it unfolded this morning. My wife and I made our first trip to Italy in 1997 and of particular interest was to visit the tiny village of Tret where my father was born. Little did we know that Tret would be our permanent home for nearly two decades.

We visited the alimentari, a small store that sells basic goods. This house was where my father was born in 1913. We peered cautiously into its small depths and had many questions for the new owner about the history of the house since it passed out of the hands of our family. As we were about to leave, the door swung open in a great swoosh and a little man asked the owner, “Dove sono, ‘sti Americanini? (Where are these little Americans?) The owner pointed timidly at us . “Li…”

This little man came straight out and introduced himself: Marcello Bertagnolli. Indeed, we had seen him hunting in the woods the day before but we hadn’t met. His eyes were bright and his voice enthusiastic. He told us that he had heard we were in town and wanted veru much to meet us. We spoke a bit though my Italian was poor in those early days. It was the beginning of a two decade friendship.

After we moved to Tret, we became good friends with Marcello. We visited his home many times. He was a hunter and his corridor ws littered with stuffed animals, elk horns and other mementoes from his past. I found that he was also a true musician and the only other person besides me in our small village who could read music. He would show me his compositions, written mainly for church masses. “Varda, varda – che bello ‘sto pezzo!” he would say as he grabbed by arm with a monkey like grip. His enthusiasm always shined through.

After several years in Tret, I was searching for a Christmas gift for Marcello, I stumbled across an old poem called “Paternoster.” It was written in the local dialect of Nones by and unrelated man of the same surname some 100 year hence. I had a special copy of the poem printed as to allow for musical notation and presented it to Marcello. I gave him a few ideas for music but in the end said I was sure he could make a beautiful piece from it. I could see the wheels turning immediately. “ ‘Spetta, spetta – Si’.” Was his response. The glitter in his eyes was strong and he said to me that it was one of the best Christmas gifts ever.

Marcello was a small man who came up to my small wife’s shoulders. When his car approached on our mountainous highway, it always appeared as though no one was driving. Even with several cushions, he could barely see over the dashboard. He always drove a four by four and would drive up and down the valley to fulfill commitments with his church choir and visit old friends. A couple of years ago at age 92, he went to Trento to renew his driver’s license. Here in Italy, they are rigorous about renewing licenses for very old people. He passed the test perfectly but the examiner was determined to trip him up. She shouted at Marcello, “Mr. Bertagnolli, do you know where you live?”  Marcello turned red with anger and shouted back (expletives deleted), “Of course I know where the hell I live!” He then repeated his address several times to drive the point home.

Several years ago, Marcello’s wife literally died in his arms early one morning. He recounted the whole thing to me on several occasions. I’ve never seen a man in his nineties cry so genuinely. On May 6, Marcello’s long life came to an abrupt end with a heart attack at age 94.

Addio amico mio. Sicuramente, ci vediamo fra poco. Nel frattemp, ricordiamo sempre con amore.

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‘At’s ‘he ‘hing, Inin It?

America seems to have a love affair with Brits and Aussies. We demand that our commercials and newscasts are delivered by people who can not speak American English. We seem to think the archaic language of our distant cousins in the British Isles and their former penal colony is somehow cool.

Turn on your television (Telly) and you will hear our beautiful language butchered in every conceivable way in order to sell something. But, of course selling is the name of the game. ‘At’s ‘he ‘hing, inin It? There’s a bloke from down under pandering cleaning products with his Crocodile Dundee-like toothy grin. Lord, it really seems like there should be a billy bong in there somewhere from which springs a giant croc to swallow this bloke up. I mean this dude is really annoying!

But wait there’s more. Virtually every news channel has their own special little Brit, usually a multi-racial woman who blathers on in a distant dialect that is unintelligible to most Americans. I want the news, i.e. currents events, without a lesson in Anglo-Saxon. Please! If I hear aluminum pronounced that crazy way one more time, I swear I’m going to start screaming at my TV.

The Brits have even managed to screw up Hollywood. A few years ago, I took my wife to see a questionable remake of the Exodus story: Exodus: Gods and Kings. I was treated to hours of biblical people babbling British English. I did not know that Moses was from Liverpool and Ramses was from somewhere around the Midlands. Chiefly because of these sketchy accents, the movie bombed. Duh!

Now before someone in Britain starts calling me an old git, let me further explain. I have nothing personal against the British Isles or their lovely (loo-vly) people or that former penal colony. I would just humbly expect that my cinema and television content, including those pesky commercials, be delivered to me in my native parlance. I want to be entertained and informed not annoyed. I’m pretty sure those in Britain would prefer their media not be delivered with a French accent or am I wrong?

The fact that British English hasn’t really changed that much in 300 years or so aside, what’s with the absence of those Ts and Hs and substituting an R for an A at the end of words. I don’t bloody live in Americer – I live in America and I would prefer to hear American English.

My apologies in advance (I fear the swift Anglo-Saxon sword.):

To both the Brits and Aussies – I apologize for co-mingling your cultures. I realize you are not fond of each other and that all blokes are not the same.

Yes I know that many of our great actors on the stage and in movies were British. Blimey!

Yes, I know you think your pronunciation of aluminum is correct. Forgive me for not agreeing.

I know the Exodus movie’s bombing was not Britain’s fault; it was a bloody bad film.

I could apologize all night but well, ‘at’s ‘he ‘hing, inin It?

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