In stipendiary there are notable distinctions and so also in the newspapers.
office know a famous and feared notable toga, but although everything is fair and honest person, and I hope that over the tedious work relationship can be established a personal friendship.
attend two journalists for some time, she is absolutely perfect and polite and kind, whereas he, though too honest and upright, is a Sacripante, arruffapopoli and rowdy, and I honor every day of their friendship, calm but two lines to describe some of their quirky colleagues think they can graciously accept.
Journalists can no longer stand them, are exhausting and clumsy with their goggled thesis on any topic debate, as they do in their playful warning, fear, thinking to carve the new boards of the divine laws.
on any news we bring the staff ricamino totally out of place and usually inaccurate, if a newspaper writes white, the other swears who is black, but certainly the right color is blue.
Not to mention their absurd slopes suggested to find guilty of any crimes, already pushing through the law these days at random, then if the background is stagnant, the ruin of hundreds of owls investigators, criminals are turning to wedding a candle to St. Buffalo, patron of scribes at the global level.
But all this colorful mass of scholars graphomania, who preaches every day on too many boring and useless Italian newspaper, how can he afford to chase people already desperate though, to ask serious questions about personal details?
Clearly something strange and alien life to the mind of some characters, who, in order to display their beautiful firmetta news at the bottom, they combine and shoot all the colors.
Sure, on paper at least the newspapers do not speak, and the voice of those glowing hominids did not have to hear it, read the piece in mournful silence, trying to stay awake, and then off, it throws the rag where necessary, in my day we used well in a particular room of the house, but unfortunately all good things must pass.
Journalists, damn them, now camped out in mass on TV, and here well we are forced to see their ruddy face, and compete in fierce duels and collegiate howler spoken grammar, because the right to speak is too demanding for those who use just write, and normally well adjusted with the third primary classes of each voluntary charitable school.
Every night on any channel you try to tune in, there's a hilarious discussion with journalists of leading actors, and now with the damn digital terrestrial channels are visible hundreds, but this horde of circus weds Moses you can know where comes out?
And then I do not understand as all these screamers television journalists to make ends meet, who pays for their comic appearances?
If journalists pleasure-seeking guests in the living rooms are fun, what about the poor unfortunate drivers that if they are standing for hours, listening to the minstrels of information, and then always with a few pieces of white paper in his hand, that's not clear what good is because they never read it, but another mystery to be delivered to posterity, together with the Sphinx of Giza and Machu Picchu.
To end I would like to briefly refer also to the conduits of news, in fact, thinking more modestly prefers to remain silent about these strange derivatives of journalism, before you read the news calmly recount the genesis of the story, so after half an hour when we shall see in the video totally different, you finally turn off the television to pick up a book and read, not written by some important shrewd journalist, unless you want to emulate the Nipponese who adore the pretty proud harakiri.
Bertana by Barbariga
