Mauro was alone in the fog, thinking again of his book, when lightening up a cigarette the weak light illuminated a gigantic billboard which caught his attention. Framed in rebel curls, Robert Granzotto’s hale face camped on 64 cubic meters of a 3-D advertising billboard. Mauro’s mind, tired by emotions, indulged in recalling the age when the irresistible rise of the Venetian pasionario began… In some ways Robert Granzotto left Geneva empty handed. It was April 7, 2002 and three days before he had got there to take part to the XXXVIII conference of the party hoping to leave it as its new general secretary, strong of the polls which in recent months saw him constantly rising. But he couldn’t obtain the absolute majority at the first ballot without support by the Mesopotamian satrap, whose fifty per cent was needed in order to be legitimized by a strong majority. He had instead to reluctantly accept the great compromise imposed by the old tyrant: to satisfy himself with the leadership of Italian radicals only, once upon a time the glorious log from which the transnational party had had origin from, but by now dried up of initiatives and skimpy in membership due to the careless of recent leaders.

“But what will it be of Capezzone?” Granzotto enquired pretending to care at the thought of the destiny of the most bankrupt secretary in radical history, hoping this way to move to compassion the leader so that he would evict the Belgian one instead from the transnational chair he really coveted.

“Don’t worry” – reassured him the satrap – “Daniel won’t notice if we leave him do whatever he has always done as secretary”.

Still today, actually, fifteen years later, the careful radical eye recognizes Capezzone distributing menu leaflets in front of the McPizza in Piazza di Spagna. They pay him casually under the minimal salary, but it’s enough to nourish himself of genetically modified burgers and achieve a bachelor with the University of Spokane (“If I only had listened to Suttora, who always told me to graduate before…”)

It was a way to test him on a small boat before putting him to the rudder of the real party – day-dreamed Granzotto trying to accustom himself to mess-tin -, the one which had as interlocutors heads of state and parliamentarians from of all the world, and such test in the Italian province he had to accept to face as bathe of humility in the mission to give back confidence to the activists so that they would return to the fold where they were waited for like prodigal sons by the thirty-nine presidents and the two radical members left in Italy. A nearly impossible challenge. He landed in Ciampino airport with an action plan already well outlined in his volcanic mind and found in Via di Torre Argentina the extraordinary board he had appointed a few hours before for the astonishment of the congress assizes which had just elected him. All women, in order to clearly begin signaling a cut with the recent past. More than a secretariat, maliciously complained the torpedoed men, a gynaeceum: Olivia Cats, Silvja Calves, Rita Saint-Bernard, Elisabetta Roastpaws, Orietta Squids…

Granzotto was a man of the world, comfortable among women (an euphemism for womaniser), and reaching the meeting room outlined with no hesitation his revolutionary plan, contemplating at the first point the change of the L – Italian radicals now would have become known as a movement “Liberal, Libertarian and Lay” instead of Liberist. The liberists would have got angry, if only there wer any left, but the new treasurer Polezel had already fired them all via text message SMS, by doing so balancing the budget in no time. Naturally the liberists protested, ironically setting up a trade union, but they were no match for the brawny an unyelding Polezel.

To the acute observer of radical things, initially the forced cohabitation between Granzotto and Polezel seemed destined to be stormy because of parochial rivalries: not only they were born in the adjacent municipalities of Santa Lucia di Piave and Mareno di Piave, but they had grown up in the split village of Boccadistrada (the place, meaning Mouth of the road, took its name from a prostitute who alleviated the pains of soldiers in the great war), and wer members of the implacably rival clans of the Bano’s Bar and the Sunlight Pizzeria respectively. But with tome the bond between the roberts gradually cemented until making them the inseparable pair that Mauro Suttora would later anatomize in hus book “Granzotto & Polesel Plc”.

A adjective changed and the finances balanced, a great campaign had to be devised to launch the movement towards luminous goals, and Granzotto did not hesitate a second in show the way: the new radicals would have launchud 25 bill drafts! Wasting no time in asking the members which bills to choose, he sent them instead to quickly start a professional training so that they could carry out an effective action. Overcoming the reluctance to the peculiar innovation, the radical activists peacefully invaded Italian streets ringing door-bells to introduce the 25 job draft proposals, for he was a practical man with a flair for DIY:

Clean the car; Unclog the washbasin; Cook the risotto; Hoover the carpet; Polish the silvervare; Vulcanize of bicycle’s tyres; Hang out the laundry; Repair the cuckoo clock; Iron the shirts; Renew the filter of the washing machine; Mow the lawn; Change the diaper; Straighten the aerial; Program the video recorder; Darn the socks; Queue at the post office; Buy the cigarettes; Walk the dog; Take the kids to school; Fix the remote control; Replace the dildo’s batteries; Shadow the cuckold husband; Set the modem; Tune Radio radicale; Manicure and chiropodist.

It was an enormous success. A joyful army of enthusiastic activists collected thousands of signatures and millions of euros in tips. From Venice to Sicily people can’t help talking about the 25 Job Proposals and the new granzottian radicals had become essential in managing the Country. The polls anticipated electoral successes unheard of before and for Granzotto and Polezel it was easy formalize their leadership in the Italian party conference in July. In one hundred days they had rebuilt the movement and with the experience acquired on the field they were now ready to turn Italy upside down with their liberal revolution.

But that was to be another story. Mauro recovered dazed by those disturbing memories to resume his investigation with experienced gait in direction of Porno Eden, as his old sexologist Rhoda Pellizzi had taught him how to anagram the nearby town of Pordenone.

Chapter 4

But that was to be another story. Mauro recovered dazed by those disturbing memories to resume his investigation with experienced gait in direction of Porno Eden, as his old sexologist Rhoda Pellizzi had taught him how to anagram the nearby town of Pordenone, where he would satisfy both the pleasures of his palate and his flesh… He could already see himself the following day on the golf course, recovering from a hard night’s work.

He managed to get a great piece of pussy in tow, long hair and thighs just as he liked, and after a refined dinner at Noncello’s, in order to socialize he didn’t find anything better than going to the movies. The trilogy of “Star Wars” was showing and Mauro saw it for the fifteenth time. While buying the tickets at the box office, he found in his pocket that letter slowly deleting itself. He checked it out: nearly half of it already disappeared. He folded it with care and put it in his wallet. Out of the theatre the fog wrapped Pordenone. Keeping her by arm he headed towards Villa Ottoboni, but passing by the film playbill he noticed that words, words again, were playing with him and the scorned word “Wars” slipped away from the playbill, slowly. Astonished and a bit frightened, Mauro followed it and caught it crawling on the ground until hidding behind the corner of a building. How much he hated that word! It made him feel sick… and in the fog a memory materialized.

Freedom, in the features of an old activist, was sweetly approaching him bare-footed on the grass, which was giving birth to small blue flowers at every step. And he was the grass. Every step she took her long hair panted fondling the air. And he was the air. In her glance she had galaxies, stars and worlds with no flags, and in her smile a calm harbour port, dream of every sailor, where to cast the anchor and stay forever. She was beautiful and he loved her. But then, right behind her, with self-confident gait a man in a dazzling full uniform caught her up. In his eyes he had all the markets in the world, and in the mouth the hurricanes and storms of all the seas. With kind manners he took her by the elbow and pushed her towards the building’s corner, where the hated word was laying a snare. Mauro jumped to try and stop them, but couldn’t move. He screamed, but couldn’t overcome the wall of silence, he felt powerless and hopeless.

Freedom was turning the corner of the building, the last thing he saw was her peevish gesture in attempting to free herself by his grip, and then… Mauro’s eyes burst. He quivered, a bitter mucus made of anger and grudge filled his mouth, he spat the poison that slithered on the ground. He hadn’t stopped spitting that filth since that day long time before, when his eyes burst… and his heart as well. That great beautiful piece of pussy thought that he was sick, and left him disgusted on the hotel’s steps.

“Porno Eden, un cazzo” – hissed Mauro – “another blank night! Fuck with anti-militarism”

< chapters 1 & 2 – chapter 5 >

Last year, Lindsay Demma Gibson was thrilled to find a stocking and, under the tree, several carefully wrapped gifts from her husband Christmas morning.

That is, until she opened them.

Ms. Gibson, an elementary-school teacher, had been hoping for her favorite perfume, new boots or a nice purse.

Giving your wife a heating pad for Christmas is a good way to get left out in the cold.

Instead, her husband gave her golf gloves, a golf skirt and a golf shirt with a country-club logo on it—even though she rarely hits the links. He also presented her with a heating pad, Listerine breath strips and generic nasal strips to prevent snoring.

“I never got gifts like that before,” says Ms. Gibson, who lives near Hershey, Pa. “It looked as if my husband was buying for a 70-year-old lady riddled with arthritis and face-crinkling halitosis, not me, his lovely 34-year-old bride who practices good oral hygiene.”

I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your mother was wrong: It doesn’t matter one bit if you were naughty or nice all year. Chances are, at some point in your marriage or relationship, your partner is going to give you a bad gift. And although it might not be quite as traumatic as the time you asked Santa for a Nintendo set and got a Boggle game instead, it’s still going to sting.

It’s one of the holiday season’s unexpected traps: Just at the time of year when we’re trying hard to be on our best behavior, the wrong gift can strain our marriage bonds.

Kirk Gibson, giver of the breath-freshener and antisnoring strips, admits that he erred on the side of practical last year, but says that some of the presents were meant to make his wife laugh. “My problem is I didn’t follow them up with a real gift,” says Mr. Gibson, a 33-year-old organizational development consultant who has been married not quite three years.

Of course, gifts between couples can backfire in either direction. But—please don’t shoot the messenger—men seem to be more clueless than women.

Women tend to care more about gifts. They shop more, and think more about them. They attach more emotion to them. And they can be more demanding and less direct. (If I ask my husband what he wants for the holidays, he will say “nothing” and mean it. If he asks me, I will say “nothing,” as well. And God help him if he believes me.)

Making matters even worse: When it comes to bad gifts, women have the memory of elephants. Take Donna Clark Goodrich. In 1962, she asked her husband for a recording of Handel’s “Messiah.” Instead, he got her a parody LP of the Kennedy family by impressionist Vaughn Meader. “I’ve never let my husband live that Christmas down,” says Ms. Goodrich, 71, a writer in Mesa, Ariz.

When I began asking people about gifts they received from significant others that had gone awry, examples poured in—all of them from women. (Perhaps tellingly, many of these bad-gift stories involved former husbands.)

There were tales of men who gave their wives electric brooms, washcloths and cheese graters, cosmetic surgery, weed wackers and AC/DC box sets. One wife told of receiving a child’s toy dishwasher—she had asked for a real one—and immediately bursting into tears. Another said she opened a case of Chapstick. A third recounted how she received a size 9 pair of men’s tennis shoes. (She wears a women’s size 6.)

Once, Cherie Jorgensen, a 32-year-old event planner in Detroit, had a boyfriend who made her a romantic Christmas dinner. He then gave her a super-absorbent hair towel and a man’s bath wrap while they were cuddling in front of the tree. “Needless to say, he is no longer in the picture,” she says.

Angela Lopez received a mass-market poem from her husband about the meaning of the name “Angela,” decorated with a gray wolf on a blue-violet background. “I felt a little panicked,” says Ms. Lopez, 38, who owns two sandwich shops with her husband in San Diego. “We were starting a business together, and it made me think, ‘Are we even on the same page?’”

You shouldn’t need a gift consultant (or a marriage counselor) to tell you these presents are wrong. They’re utilitarian. Unromantic. Ugly. And, in many cases, more suitable for a man, or a cleaning woman, than the love of your life.

In his new book, “Scroogenomics,” Wharton School economist Joel Waldfogel estimates that the gifts others buy for us are worth 20% less to us than the gifts we buy for ourselves. But of all the people on our holiday lists, he says, the ones we are best at picking out gifts for are spouses and significant others. That’s because, presumably, we know these people best.

Then why so many bad gifts within couples?

It’s simple, really. Sometimes men aren’t listening to their wives. But just as often, women aren’t clear about their desires. They want men to pick up on their subtle clues, rather than telling them outright what they’d like. As one woman I know explains, “It means we are special to them if they detect what we want without us telling them.”

Tom Valentino, who grew up in a large Italian-American family, blames his upbringing. In his parents’ house, Christmas was all about religious values—and food. Gifts were an afterthought.

Flash ahead a few decades, when Mr. Valentino, an accountant, had to pick out a holiday gift for his wife. “I started to think, well, we have three kids already, so no need for anything from Victoria’s Secret,” he says. “And I bought her a fancy watch last year for her birthday. How many of those does she need?”

Then he remembered his wife had said she needed a vacuum and a bigger pasta pot. Off to Macy’s he went. “I could almost smell the sauce cooking with meatballs, sausage and braciole,” he says. “How could a woman not be happy with these?”

He found out, because the gifts made his wife cry. “The worst part of it all were the looks the kids gave me,” says Mr. Valentino, 52, who lives in Cheshire, Conn. “It’s been about 15 years, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been reminded of those gifts.”

And there’s the rub. When men receive gifts they hate, they typically shrug them off. Women, faced with the same dilemma, feel hurt.

What did it for Susan Wilson? A nightgown her husband bought a number of years ago for their anniversary and presented to her at a cozy dinner for two at their country club.

It was cotton (the scratchy kind). Extra-large (she is a size four). Wrapped in a Wal-Mart bag. And emblazoned with St. Bernards carrying snowballs in their mouths.

Ms. Wilson, 54, a business consultant in Stevensville, Mich., was speechless. “You could fit three Peyton Mannings in it,” she says, adding that the thoughtlessness of the gift made her feel unappreciated. As a result, the rest of the evening did not go as her husband had planned. “He made me feel like a dog, but he went to the kennel.”

Her husband’s rationale: His wife loves dogs. “I thought I was being creative,” says Doug Wilson, 55, a corporate environmental health and safety director. “And I always think of sleepwear as something you want to be cozy and not real tight.”

So what’s a well-meaning spouse to do? Start with these gift-giving tips:

• When in doubt, go down a size.

• Never give a gift that suggests your spouse is not perfect. No unsolicited exercise equipment, self-help books, wrinkle cremes or nose-hair removers.

• Appliances and cookware are OK only if she asks for them.

• Don’t even think about a gift that you will get more enjoyment out of than your spouse.

• Remember: It’s not just the thought that counts—especially if you didn’t have that thought until the checkout line.

• When all else fails, at least try to create memories.

That’s what Ms. Gibson, the Pennsylvania teacher, is expecting this year. Recently a package arrived for her husband, who likes do his holiday shopping online. Who sent it? DrNatura, a company known for its colonics.

“Is my dear husband intending to give me a colon cleanser for Christmas this year?” says Ms. Gibson, who says she immediately started to think of all the silly jokes she would share with him, such as “Out with the old, in with the new.”

“At this point, getting perfect, well-thought-out gifts seems a little boring. Bring on the bad gifts, honey.”

Elizabeth Bernstein, Wall Street Journal

__________

Full article and photos: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703954904574595872903137030.html

If your grip is to weak you might have the tendency to slice the ball at impact. On the other hand if your grip is to tight you might have the tendency to hook the ball. A good grip would be somewhere in the middle. You want to make sure the club face is square with the ball at impact.

You should grip the club more with your fingers then with your palms. Gripping the club more with the fingers than the palm will generate longer shots, especially longer shots with your driver golf club.

The two most common ways to grip a golf club are the interlock grip and the overlap grip. With the interlock grip you interlock your pinky and index fingers. With the overlap grip you overlap your pinky and index fingers. I would choose the grip that feels the most comfortable to you.

One mistake beginners make is they grip their club while the club head is on the ground. You want to get your grip set when you are holding the club upright out in front of you. This will help you in gripping the club more with your fingers than with your palms.

You want to make sure the grips on your clubs are the right size for your hands. If your grips are to large you have the tendency to under react during your swing. On the other hand if your grips are to small you have the tendency to over react. Go to your local pro shop to have grips fitted for your proper size.

In closing I would suggest a lot of practice with the grip you feel more comfortable with. There are many different videos out there that are very informational. Just have fun and in no time you will be hitting the ball straight and far.

Has anyone played the Nike Ignite or Titleist NXT Extreme Golf Balls? They price is about the same for both as the Bridgestone balls. They all read like they do the same thing from each company’s website. I did like the Bridgestone E6 balls I was able to test for the most part. Just curious what feedback some others who have played them think of them.

I am a high handicapper (around a 28) so need something that has low spin. I sometimes slice, but most of the time it is a nice little fade. My chipping is improving, as well as my short game. So, I would like something that feels soft and will hold the green.

I have been using 2 piece balls like the Top Flite Super Straight XL 5000 but it feels like hitting a rock and I hate that. I’d like a ball that is a little softer feel.

Basically I need a ball that spins very little to reduce the sidespin on my ball. But, I won’t the best of both worlds and have something soft around the green. Has anyone played a
Golfblog,
I had considered the Callaway Hot but your review, as well as others I have read, don’t see to give me what I am looking for on and around the green. I guess it is more important that I play well around and on the green than to hit it longer since you only hit a driver about 14 times a round. It seems your review of the Bridgestone E6 confirmed this. Now my question is, for others, how they compare against the Nike Ignite Ball and the Titleist NXT Extreme ball?

It is important for a new golfer to learn the rules, nuances and mistakes one can make in the game that will affect performance; among these is also having the knowledge of the right equipment and clothing gear necessary to outfit one for the game.

Chief among the various kinds of golf equipment needed are the basics: the set of 14 clubs or to begin with, only half of these. Of the full set that one can build up to once the player has gained necessary experience and improved their technique are 3 main types, namely irons, woods and putters.

Figuring out the right combo is very essential for a beginner golfer to have a good game for himself or herself; but this is very necessary to have as this decides the outcome of the full game. Since the branded and new golf clubs of a standard quality are rather expensive, it is wise for beginners to start off with used sets that can also be mixed and matched, according to the ability of the person and the flex rating required by them to enjoy a good game of golf.

Besides, it is not always necessary that an initial interest in the sport will always work up to a sustained dedication to the sport and thus, there really is no point in an amateur investing in an expensive set of golf clubs and then abandoning the hobby mid-way when desired results are not seen or something more exciting comes their way, so used and cost-effective golf clubs are a smart deal to begin with.

Once the new players have established themselves in the sport and built up to a certain level of commitment to the game, buying branded or affordable, new golf clubs would actually be an advantage they have worked up to, so till then they can make use of the constant turnover rate of golf clubs and simply find out about old golf clubs belonging to hardcore golfers that they’d like to sell off.

Good sources of used golf clubs are second-hand sports equipment stores, golf courses that advertise sell-out rates and contacts of the members wishing to sell their set and websites like Craigslist and E-bay.

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