The never-ending interview with Corrado Augias is expressed in weekly handouts, today it’s the turn of the print and this shot too has the charm of pathetic things, of the boredom it envelops. The incipit is already merciless: “Corrado Augias’ house is full of books and light. His cat is black and elegant.” Cuzzocrea has no sense of limits, requests an audience with Augias – an event! – and dissects his memories, a pretext for yet another existential outburst by Augias, released in all the bookshops of the regime.
Because this which imposes on us, superimposes the Augias with an inexorable cadence, it’s regime. And we are all required to measure ourselves with the senility not of Italo Svevo, but of Augias: “The journalist and writer retraces the history of our country through his biography. Childhood in Libya, the Liberation in Italy, the non-choice between Judaism and Catholicism, the Einaudis bought in installments, the conferences of the World, the editorial offices ofExpressed and of Republic. Rai, what he represented when he won the competition and entered as soon as he graduated. When among the managers there were Ettore Bernabei, Angelo Guglielmi, and they worked there from Andrea Camilleri to Carlo Emilio Gadda”.
Now, what a pain in the ass, can you say? Augias distinguishes, like all those who have lived a lot, going through regimes, subdivisions, recommendations, familisms which, obviously, have always concerned others. They, virtuous salamanders, with cats too haughty, too Gyno-Paulian to get involved. Are you saying that Augias has a daughter in Rai, Natalia, who is on her way to repeating her father’s record of permanence? And thereby? If someone is good, she is good, “in fact her surname penalized her”, that’s what they always say in these cases. In short, Augias is convinced: “This choleric and fanatical right occupies TV to rewrite history.” It takes patience…
Augias, from the top and bottom of his experience, distinguishes: there was the Christian Democratic regime, of Bernabei, who rewrote his pieces but, in hindsight, walking with his cane along the avenue of remembrances, it was fine: it is this, it is this dictatorship, which is unacceptable. This is that of Berlusconi who made “some gesture of ferocity, like the Bulgarian edict”, and we are already at the archeology of feelings, but nothing compared to the Meloni brown shirtthat another willing, from the twin header Republic, he just compared to Hitler, for lack of worse. Augias talks about regimes, which in his vulgate would be a bit like the definition of private property that someone provides in the negative: everything that does not belong to another.
For Corrado, the regime is everything that is not communist: that’s called democracy, enlightened, progressive, alternative, whatever the fuck you want, but don’t you dare: so what about Rasella? And then the partisans chased up the mountains? The Christian Democrats “were thinking of dancers”, to say the smallest things, it’s not true at all, it’s the biggest historical lie since the time of vaccines, but with that arrogance Augias can say what he wants and adds: not these people, these people are thinking about changing the story, no less. With what? With four reports of mash on the news? With a concert live on Rai3 where Hamas is calmly praised? With Sanremo where practically the same thing is done?
But Augias must sell himself, as always: there is the Nazi dictatorship etc., there is the burnished Rai, since he has decided to leave, but not completely, he slammed the door but with permission, exile but just barely, usual story, the He is eternally ubiquitous, convinced that the world, every world, cannot give up on him. Even the immanent Scurati in this one Augiasian weltanschauung it becomes a pretext, a tool to reiterate one’s zeitgeist: there is me, then me, then me, then Scurati, in the background, like a puppet at the sideshow for rag balls, then me again, then the regime, and then me, and then the sea from afar and then the mountain, and finally me. What do you want to do? It takes patience. Augias remains bile because the Usigrai strikewhich is a far-left employers’ union, it got a flat like an old tirefor him the right to strike is not a right, it is a duty, like that of getting vaccinated, if it comes from the right side, everything that is not regime.
But the news worked anyway and, it must be said, much better than usual, confirming that a good part of the journalists are superfluous if not harmful and we keep them, long live Usigrai, it makes us grow indoctrinated, long live Usigrai. And long live Augias, always. With its twentieth-century memories. With his now softening egocentrism. With the snooty cat. With her aporias. With her self-centered or self-styled culture, this will never really be understood, because her reflections always veer towards the banal andante, the telephoned, now there is “the Orbanian drift”there is “the Melonian regime”and there he stands like Corrado of Vitruvius, legs and arms wide apart, in the global geopolitical scenario, Gaza and Jerusalem only scenes, in a theatrical sense as well as in importance: first there is Corado, Corado, Corado and Corado : a dispensary of banalities in oil: «For several years young people have not had an objective, an ideal, a motto, a figure around which to concentrate…».
Ndemm, grandfather Augias (as Enzo Tortora would have said), it’s late. There’s one thing, just yesterday, at La7, one of Corado’s new residences, Gruber and Mentana were exquisitely told to fuck off: she called the seventy-year-old Chicco incontinent, he replied, “you rude!”, waving goodbye : terrible stuff, which we are all forced to deal with, because the ego of these leftists is more expanded, like gas, than that of Augias’ cat, which however in this case does not hear us, nothing reaches it: here there is no revisionist regime, there is no invasion of black power, nothing. If it had broken out on the right, the internal war, you know Corado the beatings: fascists, sexists, in La7 there is occupation, there is the regime, there are purges. Instead, nothing. He moved there.
Two left-wing anchor men/women insulting each other, they give each other “old pissers”, and Augias spares himself, and us, the cuddler. In the interview with Cuzzo, he is busy taking care of Vannacci to snub him better, “he’s not worth it”. Meooooow! Also speak well of Augias, but speak of him (and only of him, him, him).
Max Del Papa, 8 May 2024
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