The Roman dwarf who can’t rule the world by the sword

Melchiorre Mel Gerbino, director Vafusex

The Roman dwarf who can’t rule the world by the sword

Melchiorre Gerbino

I published an essay on the Vatican titled ‘Baby Jesus wants me terrone’ on the Internet site of the House Asefi-Terziaria of Milan in the second half of September 2003. The publisher Mr Gianfranco Monti who had already edited my novel ‘Area di transito’ sent an e-mail of this essay to 2500 subscribers of his House. Therefore, heated debates arose online and the daily contacts of the site tripled from 40 to 120. The debates were about the politics Pope Pius XII had stated with post-Fascist Italy and about the death of Pope John Paul I, presumably poisoned by the General of the Jesuits Pedro Arrupe, as suddenly Mr Gianfranco Monti was found dead on the stairs of the house in Via Volta, in Milan, where he owned an apartment. This unexpected death occurred on the 8th of December 2003, less than three months after he had published my essay. Once I noticed the event, I left my hometown Calatafimi and I went to Milan. I was in a morgue in Milan on the morning of the 11th, when about forty people met to pay the last respects to Gianfranco Monti. As a chocking surprise to those people, three days after the decease Gianfranco Monti didn’t rest in the ‘rigor mortis’, as normally he should, but his facial features were distraught and a bandage spread out over his mouth and hid a last expression of anguish. Breaking the silence of those present, Mr Monti’s widow Donatella loudly said to me -“Have you seen how violet he has become?”… The widow, maybe advised by somebody, gave the approval for the cremation of the husband’s body, which happened on the 17th of December, before any post-mortem had been carried out and in contrast with the family’s tradition. Being Asefi-Terziaria a family-owned company (Gianfranco, Donatella and the children Giulia and Eugenio) Gianfranco’s death debased its activity at the point that nobody could take care of the essay ‘Baby Jesus wants me terrone’ anymore. If Gianfranco Monti had been murdered, as I presumed, the reason was to silence the debates the essay caused and that purpose had been temporarily achieved, but e-mail of the essay were sent to leading newspapers around the world before the game was suspended.
I travelled to Mombasa, Kenya, two months after these events. I stayed in Mombasa from the 21st of February to the 20th of March 2004, when I converted to Islam.
Arriving back to Italy, I stayed in Milan until the end of April, when I returned to my hometown Calatafimi where I own a farmhouse.
I was in Calatafimi on the 14th of May and I went to the Communal museum in the evening, to meet Mrs Anita Garibaldi, a Giuseppe Garibaldi’s great granddaughter, who had been invited by Mayor Nicola Cristaldi for the second successive year to preside over the commemorations of the Battle of Calatafimi of the 15th May 1860. I was very baffled after I went to hug her, as I felt how gruff and frosty she was with me. It was strange, because it was familiarity between her and me. In fact I had known her and her cohabiter Professor Salvatore Spinello in a discotheque in Rome years before, when other Garibaldian commemorations used to go. In that circumstance Professor Spinello gave me his visiting card and told –“I am a great master of Masonry. Please, call me”. Because I was curious about the Masonic community, I telephoned him few days later and promptly I was invited at Mrs Garibaldi’s home, where I was introduced to a number of people. I didn’t make any mystery about what I think of the Vatican since that first time. In fact it was argued about the kind of relations that the Vatican entertains with those countries where a large Italian community is, when I said –“As a first move the Pope usually sends a nuncio with the plans to introduce mafia”. Then Professor Spinello interrupted me brusquely, at my surprise, because I had noticed from my readings how Freemasons were fiercely anti-papist (they see the Antichrist in the Pope, indeed they pluck the ring from his finger and they crush it under their feet three times!). Professor Spinello explained me, in the Very Serene Grand Mystical Lodge of the A.L.A.M. where I went to meet him the day after, how a group of Freemasons left the Confession of Palazzo Giustiniani (those who crush the ring) in the year 1912, for giving birth to our Confession of Piazza del Gesu (unfortunately not recognized by London) and bringing Light to Italian Catholics that had been forgotten until then… I began to attend the Very Serene Grand Mystical Lodge, intrigued by the figure of the Professor. Indeed I had never in my life met anybody as inscrutable and paradoxical as Salvatore Spinello. He was the great master of a lodge where nobody used to come, except the owner of the premises almost every day, who made threats for eviction if not promptly paid for seven months of withheld rent. Then the Professor presented unbelievable justifications. As soon as the owner left, the Professor was taken by a fit of liberation and euphoria and was energetically leafing through lists of ‘brothers’ presumably ‘in sleep’, if not dead, and was making projections of how many of them he could rout out and calculations of how much money he could get from them – for setting the debt with the owner of the premises – and finally he prepared a memorandum for an imaginary secretary whom advent was expected. I didn’t comprehend why he didn’t walk out of this situation to enjoy his old age in serenity. Indeed I couldn’t understand him, because he was not a mythomaniac. He performed as a kind of Rambo during the Second World War and was decorated with a silver medal, but for his paradoxical nature he never learned how to swim therefore he was threatened by masses of water… And in the state of neglect of the Very Serene Grand Mystical Lodge it could suddenly appear the chief of a branch of Italian security services that once introduced the Professor to the chief of a branch of USA security services who tested the Professor for the assignment of a ‘job’ to be performed in Italy, that eventually was given to Mr Antonio Di Pietro… Or a chief of police could arrive, telling about all killings recently occurred among policemen, and among carabinieri (elite police), and in-between carabinieri and policemen ( I was kept apart from these kinds of meetings, I was given a vague account by the Professor )… Or the Professor, as taken by an inspiration, would dial a number –“Professor Spinello speaking, get me in touch with Cardinal Oddi, please” – a Cardinal who was close to Pope John Paul II, and Professor Spinello would have Cardinal Oddi on phone… Finally it was astonishing his knowledge of the Italian Constitution, whose articles he partly wished modified, partly bettered, some rescind, and astonishing was his misunderstanding of national and global politics at all… I became tired of the Lodge after some months of frequentation and because I was also tired to be in Rome, I went to Milan. I looked again after the Professor when I was back into Rome a few years later and it was not easy to find him, because the Very Serene Grand Mystical Lodge for reason of withheld rents had dislodged from an establishment to another several times during my absence. As finally I succeeded to meet him, I found the Professor more discredited and more alone than he had been and still persisting to go nowhere at any price. Then I understood that he was stricken by a pernicious type of senile narcissism, however I continued to believe he was the keeper of some esoteric knowledge. I was intimate with him that time, until he was put under house arrest because of a presumed intrigue of his to assassinate Senator Umberto Bossi… At the contrary I hadn’t had it difficult to understand Anita Garibaldi. She was a person of common intelligence and scarce culture and she herself believed she had charisma because she was a descendant of Giuseppe Garibaldi. She got her cue from Salvatore Spinello about what to say and how to say it at every public event, finally she performed in a manner that made Professor Spinello despairing. Hence I felt disoriented from her behaviour in the evening of the 14th of May, because I couldn’t understand her for the first time, the explanation of her doing couldn’t be related to the fact she was invited by Mayor Nicola Cristaldi, who didn’t like me at all. In fact this gentleman, who is another actor of the affair that I am describing, had been much criticized by me in political rallies because he had suited a second term as Calatafimi Mayor by changing party line, passing from fervent lay positions to a clerical subservience. Mr Cristaldi’s clerical subservience was grotesque, because he planned the erection of three huge Catholic statues in the archaeological park of Segesta, town founded by Aeneas, to attract masses of idolaters and making in cahoots with the priests lucrative business all the year around and mass brain washing at every political election. And Mr Cristaldi’s political subservience was also sinister, because his second band of Mayor would smell of the arson of the premises where the elderly poor met, where instead would appear the statue of a Catholic idol called ‘Padre Pio’ (the sublime miracle!)
I attended the celebrations on the Hill of Pianto Romano on the 15th of May, when Anita Garibaldi delivered a speech recalling at many times the Christian and Classic origins of Europe (and on the ‘Christian origins’ her accent was monotonous, as those origins were granted, when on the ‘classic origins’ her voice became indulgent and was reinforced with a gesture of concession). In the meantime Nicola Cristaldi paraded in the tricolour band of Calatafimi Mayor and exerted himself in hand kissing the Catholic Bishop of Mazara del Vallo. The atmosphere was surreal, it seemed as Giuseppe Garibaldi had won the Battle of Calatafimi because of the intercession of the Madonna.
I worked to refurbish my house from the beginning of July until that 13th of September, when I was informed from somebody that they wanted to poison me. It happened in the late afternoon, when I was resting in Piazzetta Beato Arcangelo Placenza, in front of the bar owned by Nino Mazara, where I had drunk a coffee. Then a person, that I didn’t know, gesticulating and loudly speaking walked in my direction –“Oh, Signor Gerbino! – he said – May I ask you for an autograph?”. Because I took part many times in the famous ‘Maurizio Costanzo Show’ where I recorded the highest share of audience speaking about my journeys around the world, I was a TV personage, known in Italy by millions of people and asked for autographs. This gentleman, fan of mine, was as tall as 1.80, had a corpulent figure, dark complexion, jet-black air, age between forty and fifty, was wearing slightly tinted lens and a brown summer suit and brown Timberland moccasins, spoke without dialectal inflection, his way of doing was typical Italian. Standing in front of me, in one hand he kept a wallet on top of which it laid a visiting card turned on the blank side, with the other hand he offered me a pen for signing. While I signed he whispered –“Be careful! They will try to poison you” – then he recovered his things and gave me a pat on a shoulder and left with the same theatrical doing as he had come. I decided to drive back to my farm and lay down in a hammock to ponder. I had no more doubts that Publisher Monti had been poisoned nor that my life was in danger.
The first attempt on my life was in April 1968, nine months after the end of Mondo Beat, a non-violent revolt Movement I was the leader… Somebody has written that I brought ‘La Contestazione’ in Italy. It is improper. In fact La Contestazione was born in Milan and grown in Italy in-between the years 1966/7, after it spread to France (La Contestation) and all over. I was the godfather. Imagine if the Vatican didn’t try to kill such a fellow! An infiltrator in Mondo Beat named Gianni De Martino joined me and my Swedish companion Gunilla Unger in a journey to Morocco. Once in Marrakech we were invited by him to visit a house of freaks. Among those freaks were some in disguise, with the purpose to kill me with an overdose of morphine (no matter that I had never pricked myself) so that one could say to the Italian public opinion “See how that drug addicted Melchiorre Gerbino ended?”. Gianni De Martino was in cahoots with another agent, such De Mattia, operating under diplomatic cover from the Italian embassy in Casablanca. (Recently I have discovered that Gianni De Martino was infiltrated in Mondo Beat by the Masonic Confession of Piazza del Gesu, now administrated by Professor Salvatore Spinello, and he still is under that Order, now trying to infiltrate Muslim organisations)… Gunilla and I, thank God, saved our selves. I have written extensively about these events in my novel ‘Viaggi’, edited by the House Grasso of Bologna in 1990, which was brought to bankruptcy soon after, when thousands of copies of my book were burnt without my knowing, according to orders of the bankruptcy trustee.
The second time, the Vatican tried to have me murdered, it was in Calatafimi in September 1988. I had held political rallies and put up mural posters during ten months, in consequence of what a tricky priest named Michelangelo Bruccoleri fled to Ecuador where I came from, and two Christian Democratic Calatafimi Mayors belonging Sergio Mattarella’s political area resigned the office, one after the other. I had promoted that political action by myself alone, strong on the rights of free speech that the Italian Constitution guarantees. But nothing more than the Italian Constitution can bore Sergio Mattarella! He is one of the most trusted men the Vatican has in Italy, one of those holding the most sinister and perverse kind of political power. We owe him the ‘Mattarellum’, an unconstitutional electoral law cheating a fourth of the Italian Parliament members from the popular election and allotting them to groups of power and over all to the Vatican. And to Sergio Mattarella we owe the creation of the ‘Caramafia’, i.e. coordinate commandos of carabinieri and mafia men, realized from Mattarella when he was the Supervisor of the Italian security services in the Government of Mr Prodi and when he was Minister of Defence in the succeeding Governments of Mr De Mita and Mr Amato… Imagine if in a Vatican Protectorate like Italy no one tries to kill a fellow like me, who makes a priest flee and two Mattarella’s Mayors to resign!… So they decided to eliminate me during a chain of murders that occurred with a frequency of one a week in September 1988. The first attempt was made on the 20th of September, between the murders of Magistrate Alberto Giacomelli and Sociologist Mauro Rostagno. I do not write all the story because one can read it in full details in a denunciation that I produced to Magistrate Ferdinando Pomarici of the Tribunal of Milan, which later was sent ‘for jurisdiction’ to the Tribunal of Trapani where it was dismissed. I will briefly tell that I reached Milan after I was able to elude a long encirclement of Caramafia, i.e. carabinieri from Calatafimi and Alcamo, reinforced with others arrived from somewhere else, that gave support and cover to the brothers Rosario, Francesco, Filippo, Gianfranco De Gaetano, to the surveyor Salvatore Lucido and to such Nucciu Pilaturi, these men formed a squad for killing me. Once in Milan I sought refuge in the offices of the Socialist newspaper ‘Avanti!’, where I slept some nights. During that time Mr Alessandro Garlatti, who had been Mondo Beat lawyer, prepared my denunciation. Therefore, Betttino Craxi subjugated the Partito Liberale Italiano to the Partito Socialista Italiano (why will be understood further) and played other political games that I don’t know in details (however it is known that Mr Craxi brandished some documents of the Rostagno’s murder in his last confrontation with his foes, before dying in Hammamet). In my denunciation I accused the Jesuits Bartolomeo Sorge and Ennio Pintacuda to be the devisers and the politicians Sergio Mattarella and Leoluca Orlando to be the principals of Sociologist Mauro Rostagno’s murder and of the attempt on my life (and consequently of Magistrate Alberto Giacomell’s murder).
I stayed in Milan two and an half months, then I went back to Calatafimi where I established myself again and where I held a last very crowded rally in which I was shooting point-blank against Cardinal Pappalardo, the Jesuits and their political puppets. So I ended my campaign for the civil rights, altogether 7 rallies and 2 mural posters. Consequently I was interviewed by the local TV where Sociologist Mauro Rostagno had worked. That interview had a high audience, was replicated and finally brought me to the ‘Maurizio Costanzo Show’, that made me famous at once, but it didn’t change my life, because I didn’t decide to be a comic, but I remained in my trench…I still had in front of me the four De Gaetanos brothers, but now being into deep water. The oldest, Rosario, who had been the Secretary of the Partito Liberale Italiano of the Province of Trapani, had his political career brought to an end and all his Party, that had orbited the Christian Democrats and the Jesuits, was subjugated to the Partito Socialista Italiano by Mr Craxi. The four De Gaetanos were teased by the people of Calatafimi, were shunned by local politicians, didn’t receive anymore State contributions for the realization of fraudulent projects, but their lives would be saved, because they were protected by Don Giovannino Malerba. Don Giovannino Malerba, who controlled a large number of votes, was politically devoted to the Mattarella Family, first to Bernardo, later to his heirs. For this reason he received a lot of contributions from the Italian State and European Community, so he had bought land, built two cinemas and a wine producers cooperative, in short, he had created a potentate from almost nothing of his own. Don Giovannino Malerba protected the four De Gaetanos because he was an uncle of them, being their mother a Malerba. Indeed it had been Don Giovannino himself who had suggested their candidacy for the dirty job to be done in Calatafimi, even though for the appearances he would have kept them apart. Again, the priest Diego Taranto, the Calatafimi moral authority, had thought also to the four De Gaetanos for the dirty job to be done (for the good of the Church) because their mother was an apostate of the Catholic faith converted to Jehovah’s Witnesses: if the four De Gaetanos brothers ended in the eye of the storm, then Don Diego in a sermon could have let people understand that he was speaking about the De Gaetanos when speaking about the sorrows that God inflicts to those that leave the path of the true faith and to their children! However, as Don Diego’s job would be ended there, he wouldn’t interfere in underworld feuds. So, thank Don Giovannino Malerba, the four De Gaetanos brothers were not eliminated for their inefficiency, but were kept in a state of terror, at the point that Rosario walked in the street side by side with his ten year old son, because he was frightened to be shot. Consequently the surveyor Salvatore Lucido was not eliminated, who was in the squad of those that had failed to kill me, but he remained in tiptoe to file applications for the approval of fraudulent projects, whose Italian and European contributions he would deal with the ‘friends’ (while all the projects that were not fraudulent were rejected from the various commissions aimed to examine them, and those commissions sent back to the Italian State and European Community almost all the money that had been allot for developing projects, because in Sicily and Southern Italy it would be realized only what was blessed by the Church, and the Church blessed only frauds, because it didn’t want Sicily and Southern Italy to develop, and this is the reason why Sicily and Southern Italy are today the poorest and most outlaw area in European Union and the most Catholic of course). Finally Nucciu Pilaturi wasn’t killed, the poor first had the girlfriend lifted by the reverend Michelangelo Bruccoleri, then, instead to thank me that had sent the reverend away to Ecuador, he had been instructed to shoot me (see the nuances of the Mafiosi’s code of honour!). These people were traumatized to have me in the flesh in Calatafimi and humiliated to see me virtually on TV. Sergio Mattarella and the Jesuits sighed with resignation and postponed the moment to see the protection money introduced in Calatafimi. The carabinieri, neither had heard anything strange nor had seen anything of suspicious, were happily in cloud-cuckoo-land.
So it was the third time they tried to attempt on my life. It was September 2004. I was 65 years old since two weeks… What had changed in Calatafimi during the sixteen years gap between the second time they wanted to kill me and now?. I had to reflect about it to find out who would be against me, indeed I could be sure that it would be the Caramafia, i.e. carabinieri that would give support and cover to people of the local organized crime. The priest Diego Taranto was still there. He was over eighty years old and still able to produce Mayors to turn to the Vatican. Certainly he knew they wanted to kill me, but he wouldn’t interfere in the matter, he waited for the event. Also Don Giovannino Malerba was there. He was over ninety years old and still scrounging Italian and European contributions for his own and for the people of his organization. Certainly not only he knew, but also he was the local man of reference for the Caramafia. And what had happened to his four De Gaetanos nephews? It has been already mentioned, failed to kill me in 1988 and consequently stirred up a political hornets’ nest they were forced to silence, then they were put in a kind of social relegation, except the youngest of the brothers, Gianfranco, who was assigned at the Italian school in Istanbul as a mathematic teacher. Everybody believes that a Sicilian honest man who lives in Istanbul doesn’t enjoy any traffic? After living a few years in Istanbul, De Gaetano was transferred to Asmara, Eritrea, for another few years and then he went back to Calatafimi where he got a European contribution for the realization of a holiday in the farm project, that was named ‘Villa del Bosco’. When a person is born under a lucky star! He had also the fortune that in the meantime the road that leads from Calatafimi to Villa del Bosco was remade all over again and the electrical piling implanted and the power brought in that area for the first time. All was so well done that you wouldn’t believe you were in Sicily. Like when travelling through the chaotic railway stations in Rome you arrive at Vatican San Pietro Station and it seems to you to be in Switzerland!. Indeed Villa del Bosco, where one could see a tourist once in a blue moon, was a front and Gianfranco De Gaetano held the reins of the organized crime in Calatafimi, that under his direction had strengthened and most probably was moving to impose the protection money thoroughly. Having considered this, some particulars of our relationship emerged in my mind. With his brothers I had no relations at all, but Gianfranco had done his best to re-establish relations with me, always in ‘coincidental’ encounters at common friends’, or in parties, and always baiting his hook with “Its’ water under the bridge! Let us forget it”. Then a gentleman named Salvatore Giurintano and nicknamed ‘Orso’ (Bear), with whom I had cut relations, recently had acted with me in the same manner as Gianfranco De Gaetano. Orso was De Gaetano’s accomplice. There where no doubts that Orso belonged to organized crime, because he had received a State contribution for the cultivation of oregano, with which instead he had built a stone house on the top of a hill. Orso had manoeuvred his children for buttonholing me, when people spent time at the kiosk of the Communal garden at nights. Orso had tried until he had got me! Now, this is a Mafioso’s trick to establish a good relation with somebody to kill, so that’s easier to commit the murder and to remove suspicion from the person that has committed it. I knew these kind of tricks since 1600 years, from the time when as a Vandal I arrived from Djerba and seized Segesta. Considering all this, I begun to see the affair more clearly, because I remembered how I had seen Orso who used to watch my car during the last two months. I had seen him every time when coming from my farm as I drove through Via Alcide De Gasperi: then Orso was coming out from his pizzeria, or leaned against a banister… and if I didn’t see him, then inevitably I saw his brother Rocco acting in the same manner. Indeed the De Gaetanos brothers and their squad were equipped with electronic devices to follow the movements of my car already sixteen years earlier, at the time of that other attempt on my life, imagine now, with the giant steps that electronic technology had made! And finally I remembered that I had crossed Alberto Provenzano at the wheel of his car, once I was on my way to visit my mother, and that he had shown a grimace of vindictive rage at my sight. Provenzano had been Calatafimi Town Clerk and referring to him, without mentioning his name, in ‘Baby Jesus wants me terrone’ I wrote: “… Under the Presidency of the Socialist Pertini, when Craxi was the Socialist Prime Minister, there was a political attempt made at modernizing Italy and funds were assigned to local governments for the computerization of their services. In municipalities subject to Vatican control, which was the case in Calatafimi, a plan was put in motion to buy obsolete computers, and those responsible for the plan were rewarded by promotion from Municipal to Provincial jobs!…”. Well, the computers were bought in Castellammare del Golfo, Sergio Mattarella’s hometown, in the local Olivetti’s agency, a Firm owned by Carlo De Benedetti, who performs the ugly jobs for the Vatican, i.e. from the selling of obsolete computers to obstruct progress in Southern Italy to the political conspiracy against Craxi, that made Italy fallen from the fourth most industrialized country in the world to industrial disruption. Provenzano, who had intentionally bought the obsolete computers, was promoted from Calatafimi Town Clerk to the rank of Administrative Secretary of the Province of Trapani, obviously from Sergio Mattarella, who throws his weight about that Province, where the Socialist Senator Pietro Pizzo used to be arrested with the most ignominious judicial intrigues before every political election, where some party used not to be admitted for competition because of ‘irregularities in the presentation of the Emblem’ at every political election. So, finally, I understood the reason why Provenzano had made that vengeful grimace, because he knew about the attempt on my life! Then I got up from the hammock and I drove back to Calatafimi. I arrived in the Acquanova District when it was already dark and I looked after Orso, who used to spend time there by evenings. Having met him at Bar Segesta, I suggested that we should stay a little aside from other people, because I had to speak with him face-to-face. Then I said to him –“I have to give you bad news” – at which Orso had a heart attack, he thought that something fatal had occurred to his wife or some of his children. I gave him time to suffer. Then I told him –“You have misunderstood, because the bad news is about me. I mean that I know well about the affair that is going on. Move and tell Alberto Provenzano”. I left Orso paralysed.
I spent the day at home on the 14th of September. I prepared a Kenyan flag stapling the inscription ‘Melchiorre Gerbino announces his conversion to Islam’. I had bought that flag in Kenya years before, because its size was suitable for a pareu or a table cover, but I had never used it. I remembered that flag because my conversion to Islam occurred in Kenya. Indeed it had the perfect size to dress a balcony in my mother’s apartment, which was in line with a City Council balcony dressed with flags… My conversion to Islam… I read the Koran at the age of seventeen. Beside the classic studies I was obliged with, I read a lot between fourteen and nineteen, from letters that Napoleon wrote to Maria Walewska to treatises of animal psychology as ‘The maternal instinct with the mice’. Having a good memory, I retained also what I understood superficially, that I would ruminate by the time. Reading of the Koran helped me in the sixties (my twenties) in refraining to follow Marx and Bakunin. Both pretended to systematize the world without knowing it. In fact neither Marx nor Bakunin knew that a Civilization that condemned usury was propagating in the world since much more than a millennium. For both of them the German metalworker was the standard of measurement of history of man! Even Wilhelm Reich, whom ‘The sexual revolution’ I much appreciate, ignored Islam, where actually there are draconian rules in the systematic of sexual relations, indeed the uncle and the brother publicly behead the adulterous princess, but there are not politics of sexual repression for the control of the masses, as in the Christian world, where the terrific fraud of AIDS is going on at present. At the contrary Islam exalts eroticism. For understanding, it was enough I read ‘The Arabian nights’, a lucky young man married two beautiful women and spent the nights moving from a bed to the other, and the two rapt wives and the valiant husband prized Allah for the happiness He conceded… afterward I entered in St. Peter Basilica and stood in front of Pieta and became contaminated by the subliminal putrescence emitted by this disconcerting model of incestuous necrophilia, that is the Vatican Emblem itself, in front of which have to kneel the ambassadors of those countries entertaining diplomatic relations with the Holy See before being accredited!… In my opinion Islam, which condemns usury and idolatry to death, which promotes eroticism i.e. the instinct of life, is an obliged phase that humanity has to go through to concretise a better world and is a good ground to start a serene conquest of space. Otherwise what suggests the Vatican, this Roman dwarf affected by lead poisoning that can’t rule the world by the sword? Nothing. It dispenses metaphysical putrescence to plague with spiritual bilharzias, for paralysing and robbing, and if I react, then it sends against me the carabinieri, that are paid for protecting me, to kill me instead, while powdered old queers of the Italian Episcopal Conference are bleating goodness from TV. The flag was ready.
I displayed the flag from my mother’s balcony the day after, on the 15th of September. My mother lives alone, so she was the only person that could object for my action. In fact, she was worried about the kind of reaction that the priest Diego Taranto could have. But Diego Taranto was traumatized at the sight of the flag. He wandered aimlessly the streets of the town during days, dragging himself heavily, until he fell down to the ground and died. By force of circumstances his coffin had to pass under the flag, therefore it wasn’t followed by the authorities. Normally there should have been seen Trapani and Mazara del Vallo Bishops with a swarm of churchmen, Calatafimi Mayor, a maniple of Catholic deputies and senators captained by Sergio Mattarella. None of them were behind the coffin. Everyone had an excuse. They requisitioned the schoolchildren that defiled in the funeral procession. With the slogan ‘You are a Christian priest forever’ it departed from the scene a cynical and obstinate malefactor. Indeed any doubt had ever crossed his mind that it could be a crime to bring up somebody to the career of magistrate for putting that person in cahoots with deviationist security services and Mafiosi, or that it couldn’t be a crime to participate to a murder, if that was done for ‘the good of the Church’!
Now the chronological order of the events.
I felt that everything was normal in the days 16th, 17th and 18th of September and I quickened the pace with the restoration works of my house. In fact in my farm I can perceive if everything is normal from the song of the birds and the lizards running in the walls. It can seem unbelievable but something will change in the air if hundreds of meters upstream somebody is observing you.
I arrived at Bar Grazia in Sasi District for watching a Grand Prix of motorbike at 7: a.m. on Sunday the 19th of September. If I remember well it was Japanese Grand Prix. I don’t have any television at home, because I don’t want to waste time watching TV, but I used to look at those Grand Prix because I appreciated seeing what Valentino Rossi provokes with a motorbike. So it was around 7:30 a.m. when Maurizio Saccaro dressed with an elegant forest ranger suit arrived at Bar Grazia and came to my table and asked –“Would you like a coffee?”. I answered –“Yes. Thank you”. In the meantime he moved toward another room where the coffee machine was, he tried to get something from a pocket of his suit, the pocket over the heart. If I hadn’t been warned they wanted to poison me, I wouldn’t have been suspicious at all. I appreciated Maurizio Saccaro to lend him 400.000 Lire and 25 cornerstones and he was never asked to give it back. However I moved from my chair and I followed him in the other room. I asked the bartender –“Please, may I have a light coffee?” – and I took my cup and went back to the TV room, followed by Maurizio Saccaro who brought his cup. We sat down to sip. Then two sergeants in the carabinieri in civilian clothes entered in the bar, one of them was Sergeant Maiorana and the other I don’t know the name but he had a fleshy face, a prominent nose, was in his forties, assigned at Calatafimi barracks. With them entered the Surveyor Salvatore Lucido, the person who is managing the Italian and European contributions for fraudulent projects (he has some namesakes in Calatafimi, I have to give his studio telephone number: 0039.0924951358). The three men remained together looking in my direction. When they understood that Maurizio Saccaro hadn’t been able to poison me, because I was happily drinking my coffee, they left. Then Saccaro himself left. I have to say that the face of Sergeant Maiorana had been tense and sorry, as that of the other sergeant professional, that of Surveyor Lucido shading a sardonic smile, that of Maurizio Saccaro heavenly. None of the four suspected that I knew. Then, what should have happened if I had been poisoned? Certainly the two sergeants in the carabinieri, being ‘accidentally’ in the bar and seeing me feel bad, would promptly take me to Alcamo Hospital where a ‘friend’ doctor would certificate my death as a ‘heart attack’, consequently a friend of mine, and ‘friend of the friends’, would produce a false will in which I declared that I wanted to be cremated in case of death (for protesting against the Vatican!). They couldn’t hold my funeral in a church because I had converted to Islam, but they would have held the ceremony in the City Hall, where Mayor Nicola Cristaldi should have said…-”Of course, there has been disagreement between this Communal Administration and Melchiorre Gerbino. But it isn’t usual that in a democratic system there can be disagreements? Melchiorre Gerbino has been an illustrious citizen of this town. He is an illustrious citizen, because he lives!... (stands ovation)… Therefore the town Councillors have decreed with one voice the obsequies be held at the tax payer’s expense”- and the crematorium oven would have already been white-hot.
I drove to Tre Croci District, where the Franciscan Professor Bernardo Critti owns a country house, in the morning of the following day, Monday the 20th of September. I was in friendship with him, so I gave him a copy of the essay ‘Baby Jesus wants me terrone’ and I told him about the attempt to poison me the day before. He was asked to interfere in the affair, if he could stop the course of the events. Friar Bernardo had been a very ‘in’ personage at the time, when Cardinal Pappalardo was the Primate of Sicily. I didn’t know how he stood after the advent of Cardinal De Giorgi and Opus Dei.
I worked intensely on the restorations of the house between the 20th until the 22nd of September and I often drove to town to buy materials and I watched what was going on there. When I drove by the carabinieri barracks, which were on my way, I noticed three or four unmarked police cars that weren’t there before (the finenesses of Italian secret services). Furthermore I noticed that I was shadowed by people of the town and I observed that each of them moved with a hand in a pocket of his jacket, as manipulating something in it (when such jobs are assigned to unprofessional people). These men were: the Communal librarian Giovanni Bruccoleri, a brother of that priest Michelangelo Bruccoleri I let flee to Ecuador; Giuseppe Scandariato, called ‘Pippineddu’, who used to work at Gianfranco De Gaetano Villa del Bosco; Gaetano Pampalone, called ‘Scarafaggio’ (Cockroach), a first cousin of the four De Gaetanos; Damiano Coraci, who used to stay in a corner whispering together with Filippo De Gaetano after this had been speaking with Mayor Nicola Cristaldi in the City Hall… Besides, I asked myself who was in reality Nathan, the only tourist at Villa del Bosco, with whom I had spent time at the kiosk in the Communal garden at night. He sometime came to my farm where, ‘enraptured’ by the nature, he got lost for more than an hour every time. He said he was an American scholar who lived between the Sicilian towns of Modica and Calatafimi for the purpose of research. I didn’t ask him if he was a Jew, because I noticed myself, but he didn’t tell me!… Furthermore Camillo Rizzo was back in Calatafimi after a month of absence. He owned a powerful car and a spy lighter. The lighter was the kind that at the moment of the lighting of a cigarette (Umberto Eco of a pipe) is also ejecting a discharge that strikes the head of the ‘enemy’ engendering a slight cerebral concussion. The infiltrator Gianni De Martino used this kind of lighter against me twice, once at the time of Mondo Beat, when he paralyzed me in front of a video camera and spoke himself, the second time in Morocco when he showed the working of the lighter to De Mattia, the agent who used to perform under diplomatic cover of the Italian Embassy in Casablanca. Now such a lighter was owned by this worm Camillo Rizzo from Caltanissetta, a man of Mayor Nicola Cristaldi’s staff, who took care of Calatafimi Communal site in the Internet. Rizzo was already sure of my end and bought a powerful car by instalments. He came to my farm several times in those days and used the lighter twice. I recited the Islamic Act of Faith the first time, and I told him to stay far from me at the second time, he didn’t want to die of a kick of mine… Finally, I noticed that also the attorney Gaspare Denaro involved in the affair. It happened that I temporarily changed my car with one of my brothers with a larger luggage van and I drove to Alcamo to buy some materials for the restorations. Because they controlled me by checking the car electronically, when they saw another person at the wheel, they believed I tried to leave and then they promptly made check points at every road interlinking with the town. On my way back from Alcamo, I saw Calatafimi manned by the Caramafia and among the others was the attorney Gaspare Denaro. This gentleman got a State contribution forty years ago, with which an impressive wine producers cooperative was built, that until now hasn’t produced a sole bottle of wine! Nobody knows what has been done in this company during forty years. Somebody should ask him about it…So the Caramafia considered that I could have evaded and tightened the control over me by keeping me in sight in town and mobilizing the cattle-breeders that control the crucial junctions in Calatafimi territory.
Maurizio Saccaro, dressed with the forest ranger suit, joined me while I was walking towards Bar Mazara at around 11: a.m. on the 23rd of September. With the warmth of the welcome he told me –“Let’s have a coffee!”. Then I realized that the Franciscan Bernardo Critti, asked to stop the affair, hadn’t moved at all. So I shouted to Saccaro –“I don’t drink coffee! And don’t come to my farm for any reason!”. After that Saccaro became painfully nonplussed. I knew well from that moment I was playing stud poker, then I raised: from my mother telephone, which obviously was under control, I told Philopat Galliani that they were trying to kill me in Calatafimi. Philopat Galliani was writing a history of my life, to be published jointly to a history of Mondo Beat that I had written. The two works together would form a volume titled ‘I viaggi di Mel’ (Mel journeys) to be edited by the House Shake of Milan within November 2004. Galliani himself directed that House. So I asked him to print me one hundred copies of a mural poster
“Melchiorre Gerbino announces his conversion to Islam. Surely he will find at his side honest Sicilians who will say ‘enough!’ to the institutionalized filthiness and the organized crime generated and manipulated by the Vatican.
For Sicilian Citizens, it is time to realize a democratic society in Sicily!
To those who read it can be spontaneous to ask ‘Why convert to Islam and not to choose other ways?’
The answer is Islam because its doctrine is shaping the most progressive and libertarian society in the history of the world. Islam neither bases itself on the system of usury and support itself with the industry of idolatry, nor promotes politics of sexual repression for mass control. Islam expands in the world because of the Prophet’s principles which give to the Muslim a great capability in realizing himself in the transcendental sphere, as well as in the erotic-sentimental dimension, and in the social.
The people who will convert to Islam will not be alone when suffering injustices and harassments, because the Muslims don’t turn the other cheek to the arrogant who gives a slap.
God’s will, and the good will of those who comply with it, would liberate Sicily from the marsh of Satanic corruption where it has sank and restore it to the light of Islam!”
Galliani was shocked because of my situation and preoccupied for what he should say in the book that he was writing about my life. He told me the producer Francesco Galli would soon arrive with a video camera to interview me in Calatafimi, but he didn’t promise that he would print the poster, because he was swamped with work. I hoped he would find the time to print it, however those who wanted my death had been advised that I sold my life dearly. And to make it worse, I bluffed and I called the Hermes Hotel in Mombasa, where I lived one month at the time of my conversion to Islam, and I asked the receptionist Matano to inform the boss to be ready, because I would maintain my promise (Matano would say to the owner of the hotel that Mel would arrive and rent a room with advanced payment monthly. I didn’t know what the Caramafia eggheads would understand, but I hopped they would believe the Hermes Hotel in Mombasa was a sanctuary for Islamic terrorists who would vindicate me by blowing up churches at Christmas, if I was killed)… I acted with self-assurance after these two telephone calls. I drove to Alcamo to collect money from a lady who had bought some paintings of mine, consequently I drove to Vita where I bought materials for the restorations of the house.
The agents who simulated to be tourists increased in town in the following days, and another car arrived with four carabinieri, and Scarafaggio and the others still shadowed me, but I felt the urgency to kill me had passed away. They had to adjust their strategy, since I had shown that I knew that they wanted to kill me and I told people. As State matters are in Italy, also these kind of murders are complicated, so I had time to dedicate to the restorations. While working I reflected intensely. Then I was called on my mobile from Mrs Anna Maria Ballarati for a second time. I had received a first call from her on the beginning of September, when I didn’t yet know they wonted to kill me. The first call Mrs Ballarati had asked me if I planned to go to Rome, because she organized some cultural events and she would appreciate my presence. I received many such invitations from people that wanted the ‘personage’ at their painting exhibitions and because I gave my mobile number to everybody I received calls from some persons that I had forgotten and I simulated to remember for being gentle. Mrs Ballarati asked me during that first call –“Do you remember who I am?”. I had answered –“Of course, I remember. As soon as I arrive in Rome I will get in touch with you”. Indeed Mrs Anna Maria Ballarati called me again and tried again to convince me to move to Rome. She said –“Come, also Anita is organizing interesting events”- so I remembered that she was Anita Garibaldi’s friend! I said to her –“I am sorry, but I have to leave you at the moment. I will call you later”- and I went to take a seat… Finally I had realized that the attempt on my life was directed by ‘Turiddu’, so I had nicknamed Professor Salvatore Spinello!… So Anita Garibaldi came to define my murder on the anniversary of the Battle of Calatafimi, and this was the reason why she was not friendly with me (she was acting wrong as usual, because the murderer has to show warmth toward the predestined victim!). So Mayor Nicola Cristaldi, thanks my murder and the arson from which the statue of ‘Padre Pio’ had emerged, would become the Sicilian right-winged politician at the service of the Jesuit Ennio Pintacuda, as Sergio Mattarella was the left-winged… Finally Professor Salvatore Spinello, alias Turiddu, who directed the operation at the top and from the very beginning preferred to have me murdered in Rome, was trying again in that direction, once they were unsuccessful in Calatafimi, and this was the reason why Anna Maria Ballarati phoned a second time… Everyone has a function in life, he who understands it has a mission, and as it is impossible to evade ones own life, but with death, then everybody is obliged to confront himself with life and with death. I left this message on Anna Maria Ballarati’s mobile ‘Say hello to Turiddu’. Therefore, Salvatore Spinello would also be obliged to play stud poker. I got a message from Anna Maria Ballarati two hours later: ‘Who is Turiddu? I don’t know any Turiddu. I know Anita Garibaldi, Caterina Caselli. You mistake me for another!’… So that insane old man who hid behind the door of the Very Serene Grand Mystical Lodge of the A.L.A.M., because he hadn’t have the small amount of money to pay somebody he had knocked with his car, which was also without insurance, that insane old man directed the Italian security services when the Vatican decided so. Of course! The day that the renegade Freemason Salvatore Spinello ends in the eye of the storm, then the Vatican will say “This is the reason why the Church condemns Freemasons ‘a divinis’, i.e. with a bull of a Pope, inspired by the Holy Ghost, that no Pope can revise anymore!”… And which refined vendetta of the Vatican the day when in the eye of the storm will end Anita Garibaldi, who has the forename of the Heroine of Porto Alegre and the surname of the Hero that unified Italy at the expenses of the Vatican!
There had been two weeks of stalemate since I left that message on Mrs Ballarati’s mobile telephone, when Turiddu adopted a new strategy to kill me and I finished the restorations of my house.
Because many agents were in civvies presiding the roads, when I drove to my mother on the morning of the 8th of October, I had the perception that something fatal could occur to me at any minute (Interior Under-secretary Mr Antonio D’Ali, did not have any account about all these events that I have mentioned so far? Besides the high chargeYou cover, indeed You live in Trapani, at a stone throw from where I live. It would be worrying if You had any notice about the movement of all these agents. And it would be more worrying if You had noticed it). As soon as I parked in Piazza Plebiscito to go to my mother, Maurizio Saccaro arrived and run over to me, he who had tried to poison me twice, and with a resentful air he asked “Why were you angry at me the other day?”. I went back to the car and drove quickly to the farm. Promptly I phoned my friend Pinuccia Bartolini in Milan and I told her –“Please, write down on paper: They are trying to kill Melchiorre Gerbino in Calatafimi. The deviser being the State of the Vatican and Salvatore Spinello the principal, with carabinieri that give cover and support to the local organized crime, headed by Gianfranco De Gaetano”. I asked her to send e-mail or fax to the newspapers. My friend was frightened and confused. Actually I didn’t expect any help from her, but I spoke for the purpose to be heard by those who monitored my mobile. Therefore, I played a card I had up my sleeve. I said to Pinuccia –“Don’t write what I tell you now, I want those persons who are monitoring my telephone. Do you know anything about the Turks, yourself?”. My friend asked –“Which Turks?”. As I was irritated I said –“Which Turks! Those Turks that are playing at four tables! With Americans, Europeans, Israelis and Saudis! Do you tell stories to the Turks, yourself?… Gianfranco De Gaetano tells them everything. They set him up when he was trafficking in Istanbul. The traces are on the Internet. De Gaetano is a dirty card of the pack that I don’t want to handle anymore, I turn it to Salvatore Spinello”- and Turiddu went haywire, because he couldn’t proceed with the attempt on my life before controlling Gianfranco De Gaetano’s position with the Turks. That card I played for getting out of a desperate situation and try to arrive on the 16th of October, when I was expecting the arrival of the producer Francesco Galli. And it was a trump card. When I drove back to town in the afternoon, I noticed that the small malefactors who were shadowing me had solemn faces and the agents in civvies had disappeared all of them, also the extra car with the four carabinieri. And I could see how Calatafimi people, had shut their eyes on the morning that I could be killed at any time, acted as nothing strange had been remarked in town: indeed they didn’t obey the Sicilian code of silence, but to the Vatican code of terror! That day I left messages on the mobiles of many people I knew. I quoted names and facts in those messages, in the purpose of leaving a memory of the events in case I was killed. The most cowardly of those who got a message, named Libero as his luck ironically would have it, left this message on my mobile ‘How do you take such liberties with me?’. Others became terrorized and asked Philopat Galliani to stop me! There were two persons sympathetic with me, one from Sudtirol who left the message ‘What is going on?’ and the other one was a famous lawyer.
I worked in the ground on the 9th and 10th of October. I phoned somebody and left messages after I had rest from work. This was the message I left on Anna Maria Ballarati’s mobile telephone: ‘Keep away from the couple of assassins! Repent! Convert to Islam!’. Mrs Ballarati returned my original message to my mobile adding ‘You’ve got the wrong person!’.
Nathan arrived without previous notice together with another in the early afternoon of the 11th of October, while I was relaxing in the hammock under the olive tree. They waited ten meters away from me, but I didn’t move, I said I couldn’t receive anybody because I was busy for some reason. Nathan insisted that he wanted to introduce me his American friend, but I restated that I was unable to receive them and then they went away. I realized both of them were Jews and they didn’t seem to be Americans, the way they looked they could be Israelis… The engineer Carlo De Benedetti, who makes the ugly jobs for the Vatican, I mentioned the business of the obsolete computers, might call these brave boys who were carrying from Israel some sophisticated environment monitoring for giving support to those who wanted me dead. Indeed those who were shadowing me had something in their pocket that they manipulated. If the sophisticated equipment now tested on my skin would be adopted by the organized crime in Southern Italy, which is all under Vatican control, Carlo De Benedetti should make good business… Finally the board of the Vatican dirty jobs was enlightened! In a small Calatafimi dimension there were the corrupted woman’s sons, who had left the path of the true faith by converting to Jehovah’s Witness. At national level there were that stupid ‘I am Anita Garibaldi!’ and Turiddu, the foolish narcissus who distributed his visiting card as very serene great master of Masonry. Finally Carlo De Benedetti manoeuvred at the highest level and in sight of everybody, an odious Jew, so the cross could be cast upon all the Jews at the right time. Of course! When all Italy sinks in misery (Southern Italy has already sank), because of the intrigues of the Vatican that feeds itself on misery, then the blame will be put mostly on Jews and Freemasons and partly in Jehovah’s Witnesses! I think one who has experienced the Catholic seminaries, who was mortified in the spirit and tormented in the flesh in tender years, later can conceive such political perversions as those of the Vatican diplomacy.
I worked intensely in the farm between the 11th and the 15th of October. I was always shadowed by Scarafaggio and the others when I went to Calatafimi in those days, but I had the perception that pressure around me was weakened, because they checked about Gianfranco De Gaetano’s connection with the Turks and because they knew somebody should arrive soon to interview me. In fact Philopat Galliani phoned me and confirmed the arrival of the producer Francesco Galli. He told me also that the infiltrator Gianni De Martino had asked for an appointment. I asked Galliani to throw De Martino out of the House. He said he would do so.
Francesco Galli and Tamara Vignati arrived on the 15th of October. They interviewed me at home, in the farm and along the streets of Calatafimi. They left in the evening of the 16th to Naples, where they were shooting a film. I was wise enough to understand that I would have been intercepted at once and quietly disappeared in an acid bath if I had left with them. If I had to die it had to be in Calatafimi, in the centre of the arena, among six thousand shocked spectators.
A new encirclement of Caramafia was organized between the 17th and the 20th of October. From a Philopat Galliani’s telephone conversation, that had met the infiltrator Gianni De Martino, I understood that he had left me alone on my own, scared of the intimidations he had received. I broke off relations with him, not to lay myself open to the treacheries of a coward.
I felt that I was in the final stranglehold when I was in Calatafimi in the morning of the 21st of October. Then I decided not to drive back to the farm, because I could be easily kidnapped. I saw Gianfranco De Gaetano in the flesh in the afternoon of the same day, sitting on the rim of the Acquanova fountain. He had a gaunt figure for the interrogations about the Turks. Close to him was sitting my carpenter Mariano Maimone, who had been the President of Calatafimi City Council, but since a few months he had been replaced by another counsellor, so he had a melancholic figure. As soon as they saw me they left. Recently Maimone had been in my house to restore a piece of furniture. He was not my friend but it could be mentioned he was close to me politically somehow, himself being a ‘socialist’ and a ‘laic’. Gianfranco De Gaetano might deliver to Mariano Maimone that false testament in which I declared I whished to be incinerated for protesting against the Vatican?. That night I slept in my car, parked in the hearth of the town, Piazza Plebiscito, where I was born.
I washed at my mother in the morning of the 22nd of October. When I was around Calatafimi I noticed that all bars at the crucial points were manned by the cattle breeders of Gennaro, Pedone, Gerardi families. Then I understood that if I drove out of the town I would have been stopped and poisoned by force. So I didn’t touch the car and slept in a recess under stairs, in my mother’s house, without her knowledge.
I left a message on Mayor Nicola Cristaldi’s mobile in the early morning of the 23rd of October. He had disappeared from Calatafimi a couple of weeks before and was waiting in Rome for me to be killed. This was the message ‘I was told by Gianfranco De Gaetano about the new mission you gave to my carpenter Mariano Maimone. My congratulations! Melchiorre Gerbino’. I left a copy of the message on the worm Rizzo’s mobile phone, where I used to leave copy of those messages I wanted to be noticed by Turiddu. When I was around Calatafimi I saw that the situation was the same as the day before, the cattle breeders waited for poisoning me by force, if I should drive out of the town. So when I went to my car and I drove in direction of my farm at 11:30 a.m., the cattle breeders were ready to kill me. But I stopped as soon as I was out of the town and I got out of the car. I was in front of me the carabinieri barracks. I rang the bell and they opened the gate. I went toward the building and I entered and I waited in a room. I was alone. Then a carabiniere arrived and said –“Good morning, Mr Gerbino”. I said –“Good morning. I wish to make a denunciation”. The carabiniere said –“Please, wait a moment”. It had been a kind of fair play between the carabinieri and me along all this affair. They had shown, all of them, to be unhappy for this work they didn’t think to be asked for, when they signed up for the Arma. I had shown understanding for their situation and melancholy for the terrone karma that each one of us was living. So Sergeant Tiziano Maggitti received me with a cordial professionalism. He asked –“What is it about, Mr Gerbino?” (Never forget Italy is a great democracy, the very ‘cradle of the right’!). So Sergeant Maggitti and I worked together to formalize a denunciation. I stated that I had suspicions that Editor Gianfranco Monti had been murdered and I had no doubts that my life was attempted by the four De Gaetanos and those who shadowed me. Furthermore, I pointed out that some agents who lived in Villa del Bosco, that I presumed were Israelis or American Jews, were implicated in the affair. Having asked and obtained a copy of this denunciation, after a warm handshake I left Sergeant Maggitti and the carabinieri barracks and I went back to my car and to town. Immediately after my denunciation, those who used to shadow me disappeared, but the number of people following me from the Pedone and Gerardi cattle breeders, whom I didn’t denounce, increased by one person per family. Then I decided to bring Turiddu out of his shell by striking him in his narcissism, so I left a message on Mrs Ballarati’s mobile ‘I beg you to tell Professor Spinello “Old failed assassin, such is your meanness that you haven’t the force to suicide!”. I left a copy of the message on the mobile of a Masonic attorney (of those who crush the ring) in the purpose it should be noticed in his Confession, and I left a copy of it on the worm Rizzo’s mobile, in the purpose it should be known by Turiddu (to enrage him). I slept in the recess at my mother’s house.
Sunday the 24th of October was a strange day. I was pervaded by a kind of furious tension, as I had to fight soon against somebody. Apparently the situation was the same of the days before, the cattle breeders waiting for me to drive out of the town and then poisoning me by force. Two new ‘tourists’ lodging at Villa del Bosco were wandering in town in the late afternoon, when Nathan and his friend had disappeared from the day of my denunciation. Also these two ‘tourists’ were Jews. It seemed to me impossible that the CIA should have sent four agents all four of them Jews! I presumed the two were Israelis, as Nathan and the other… The illumination of Calatafimi streets was dazzling on that Sunday evening and all Calatafimi people were in the streets. For the purpose to relax I went to ‘Spillo’ for sometime, to look at a football match of Milan. When I left Spillo I was in the grip of the cattle breeders, who were ‘lazing’, some on a bench, some in a bar. But all these cattle breeders vanished at 10 p.m., after the Milan match ended, actually people were still numerous in the streets. Then I approached a line of cars parked beside the Post office building, where a man was selling the chestnuts and it was a joyous atmosphere. There I noticed Mrs Guida, Filippo De Gaetano’s wife, leaning on a car in which De Gaetano himself sat at the wheel. I was so close to that car that I could perceive how Mrs Guida told her husband –“He is approaching here”- speaking about me. Because I used to be among enemies, I didn’t pay great attention to this ageing couple. Going back to Spillo, whose premises are in a lane, I turned back by instinct when Filippo De Gaetano was stopping his car. He had a grimace of rage in his face, as he hadn’t arrived on time to shoot me. In fact I was already inside the door of Spillo’s premises. Then De Gaetano reversed and drove away, and I promptly went to see the direction he was going. He tried to go back to the place where he had been parked previously and he was there when I passed ten minutes later (somebody had preserved the parking place for him). Then I leaned on a banister at a distance that I couldn’t be reach by a pistol and I started to make grimaces in the intent to make De Gaetano mad so he would run after me among people with his gun in the hand. But De Gaetano was able to control himself. After a while I left and I went to search refuge in my mother’s recess. So Turiddu had lost his mind, after Mrs Ballarati had told about my message, and ordered to shoot me! Indeed he was not stupid at all. So he would have sacrificed the four De Gaetanos who were too compromised after my denunciation (the second in the time!) and would have made no man land between himself and the Turks, who would appear in the background of my murder (narcotics underworld feud between the De Gaetanos and Gerbino)…
Calatafimi was deserted on the morning of the 25th of October. Neither carabinieri nor usual people were around that morning. Only a few persons could be seen, that would instantly disappear. That was the day they should kill me at any price, and people were warned… A powerful car with smoked glass was parked close to my Fiat Panda in Piazza Plebiscito at 11: a.m.. It was the car of the cattle breeder Pedone, who had a sheepfold in Sasi District. Pedone himself was sitting under Garibaldi’s statue, together with another named Michele and with the Communal librarian Giovanni Bruccoleri, who wanted vindicate the honour of his brother, the reverend that had fled at night time to Ecuador. These three killers sat very close to my car, against which I leaned. I feigned as nothing special was going on, they did the same. I walked a little in Piazza Plebiscito, then I went to my mother’s home, which is beside the square, but can’t be seen from the place where Garibaldi’s statue is. I closed myself inside the entrance a few minutes, then I went back to my car where I pretended to look for something momentarily, then I left the car unlocked and returned quickly back in the direction of my mother’s house. I arrived close to it and instead of going there I went to a road near. I descended that road, which was partly in terraced steps, and I arrived in Corso Garibaldi and I walked along it strolling in the middle of the roadway. Calatafimi was like an uninhabited town. All balconies were closed. When I arrived in Piazza Pietro Nocito in front of the De Gaetanos’s house, I took a steep road that began under an arch and I went down all the way past the Aciddittu District until I arrived at the ring road that leads out of the town. I stopped a truck at once, by firmly standing in front. Paolo Donato was at the wheel, a fellow that I knew from his cross-country motorcycle racings. He opened the door and I got in the truck. I told him –“I feel bad. There is something wrong with my heart. Where are you going”. He answered –“To Trapani. I may drive you to hospital”. I said to him –“Thanks. Let me lay down on your sleeper-cab, please”- and I did just before we arrived at a junction that was surely manned by the Caramafia. Paolo wanted to take me to hospital when we reach Trapani, but I insisted I wanted to breathe some fresh sea breeze, so I left the truck when we arrived in the harbour area from where the ferries to Sardinia were departing. I sailed with the ferry ‘Toscana’ at 9:30 pm. I disembarked at Cagliari at 8:30 in the morning after. I left Cagliari by train at 10:05 a.m. and arrived at Oristano at 11:20, where I had my lunch in a restaurant close to the railway station. The lady who owned the restaurant recognized me from the TV and was complimentary. She said –“You have to come back to Oristano for the Carnival!”. I told her –“How can I promise it, with all the engagements I have!”… I left Oristano by train at 1:20 p.m. and I arrived at Olbia at 4:30. I left Olbia by bus to Palau and eventually to Santa Teresa di Gallura where I arrived at 9: p.m., too late for sailing to Corsica the same day. I dinned at ‘Azzurra’ and I didn’t sleep in a hotel but spent the night in myrtle bushes so not to be registered. I sailed from Santa Tereda di Gallura by the Company ‘Saremar’ at 7:30 in the morning of the 27th and disembarked at Bonifacio, France, an hour later. I had some hundred Euros, the driving license and, thank God, my skin. I sailed from Ajaccio the same evening. I was in Marseille in the early morning and in Paris at 11:30 of the 28th of October 2004.
*****
I will tell concisely about the situation I found myself in France. Obviously I tried to make a denunciation as soon as I arrived in Paris and then I was tossed here and there in a kind of bureaucratic buck-passing, for the reason that I asked asylum because of the persecutions from the Vatican and not from Italy, which is a Vatican victim itself. Finally I entered a common police station in Rue de Nantes where a young policeman made a telephone call to the Calatafimi carabinieri asking for a copy of my denunciation of five days before. He received fax and went to his chief who called at once the secret services (Renseignements Generaux). Two agents arrived who questioned me during three hours. I told them about the events that I have described until here and I gave them some mobile numbers of people that had tried to kill me. I didn’t get any testimonial of my denunciation but I was told that they would be soon in touch with me. They asked me to turn off my mobile, that I had already done when I got a lift from Paolo Donato. To feel safe I stayed at CHAPSA in Nanterre, a centre for homeless people, because it was under police control I was never contacted by those two agents and when I tried to have information about my case I found myself in front of a brick wall. I didn’t ask legal support to any charitable or confessional organization. I never asked the French administration for economical help and I never got any help. I sold some of my paintings to an Italian who knew me from the TV. I spent my days studying in libraries or painting. I intended, and I told it openly, to create a political Movement for the interdiction of the Catholic practice of the ‘confession’, because it is unconstitutional in all those countries where the Catholic Apostolic Roman Religion doesn’t constitute State religion, as I explain in ‘Baby Jesus wants me terrone’. To start with this Movement I waited on the French Referendum for a Treaty for the European Union to be concluded, I didn’t want to interfere in it. I had been almost four month with my mobile turned off and yet I hadn’t been contacted by Renseignements Generaux. I thought that a kind of status quo had been instated for me in France, I got protection in an unofficial way. So I decided to re-establish contacts with my family and some friends. Then I got my own money and I left CHAPSA and I went to stay at a hotel. I asked a friend of mine to send me a copy of ‘I viaggi di Mel’, which was published since three months. So I could see how Philopat Galliani had arbitrarily taken away 38 pages of 150 of my ‘A documented history of Mondo Beat’, which had become an ‘appendix’ of ‘his’ book. He declared he wrote about my life after recording my tales in hundreds of hours of registrations, when in reality he got notes from me, that I had written in hundreds of hours of work at the computer, at Sergio Carrettoni’s home, 35 Via Castaldi, Milan. The truth is that Galliani hoped I should be killed in Calatafimi, so he would be famous and rich with ‘I viaggi di Mel’. Then he got a visit from the infiltrator Gianni De Martino who frightened him, consequently Galliani distorted the history of my life and its meaning and represented me as an ambiguous and paranoiac personage, as Turiddu wanted it. Galliani declared in the interviews and presentations of the book that I am an opportunistic person crystallized in the past. He noticed in the publicity on ‘Decoder’ that I am a slob, crazy, drug addicted person. Finally he didn’t pay me for the copyright, profiting of my situation. And this coward is calling himself a ‘cultural fighter’ and pretended to win the Cold War!… As soon as the Referendum over the European Union Treaty was over and I was ready to move ahead with a Movement for the interdiction of the practise of the Catholic ‘confession’, another kind of movement started around my room at the 6th floor of the ‘Grand Hotel de l’Univers Nord’ in Paris. There were some suspicious people that were moving around. The Algerian owner told me they were Jews who pretended to buy the hotel, so they looked through the rooms. My room was ideal for throwing somebody out from the 6th floor. Indeed a Black gentleman had rented a room in front of mine, and an Asian a floor down stairs, both of them with the purpose to give me a hand to jump out from the window. So I left my room in the early afternoon of Saturday the 18th of June, a second after the Black had closed himself in his own room, and running down stairs with my little coca cola backpack I avoided the Asian and arrived at the reception where I left my key and said I was going to spend the week-end with a friend. I turned off my mobile when I entered the subway station Stalingrad. I left Paris from the railway station Gare de Lyon, where I had arrived almost eight months before, and I travelled in direction of Toulon where I arrived the morning after. There I spent half day at the sea. I left Toulon on the early afternoon and I travelled by train in direction of Marseille and Lyon and finally I arrived in Geneva, Switzerland, the evening on the 19th of June. I am finishing these notes in Geneva today, the 25th of June 2005.
Long live the Great French Idiot, who asks five million Muslims who live in France to have ‘republican behaviour’, when by the other hand he tries to kill their intellectuals, and as extremity of stupidity he is unable to fulfil the task! He is the same Idiot who took up the cause of bombing Serbia, to pull the chestnuts out of the fire for the American imperialists, for thanking them for what they are ripping off France in Black Africa. And he is the same Idiot who promoted a referendum in France, whose outcome he believed would give himself the political leadership in Europe, when he delivered it to Tony Blair. Everybody can see that he is an Idiot by looking at his face. François Mitterand told it to the sightless. Confucius had foreseen that he would believe to be a fox: ‘It is typical of the idiot to believe to be cunning’- Confucius said. In fact this Idiot believes to be in the number of those who rule the world: only somebody could isolate the Islamic integralists! But in the long run the Islamic integralists could be useful to you, leaders of the world. Instead its’ more urgent that you isolate your children! Especially the good boys. See that serious young man who has enrolled in the air force? Without any motivation, or better said because of all motivations that only you know well (but that young man had an intuition of all them) he will turn from the squadron and will send the Hell against the Large Dome, before parachuting… What will you do after it? Should NATO abolish the air force? And what is left of the Vatican would transfer at Our Lady of the Peace Basilica at Yamoussoukro in Ivory Coast? But do it at once, because I see the young man is ready to take off… And see that other young man, who wears the skullcap, who is studious, who makes also the extras as waiter? He will buy some dose of strychnine (it will be sold where you created the dealing points for morphine and heroin) and will poison some Jews who for their own profit don’t take care if the Vatican will cast the cross upon all the Jews. What will you do then, you false Zionists? (the sincere ones, those of Herzl, are people of great morality who are suiting justice). So, what will you do? As retaliation will you decimate the Jewish People?… And here I stop, because I don’t want upset you too much. But you have to notice that such situations are already going on. You have to know that you are not performing, as you intended, a new world war robbing and running the natural resources of the planet, but that you have caused the First World Revolution. You can’t see it from your perspective, I see it from mine. You are out of history, since you have lost the control of the events… But His Holiness Joseph Ratzinger, to Whom I am now asking for compensation for the damages the killers of His Organization have caused me along the course of my life, most probably will stand behind the assumption that His Organization is a Holy One and mine can’t be but the delirium of a madman. If this is the assumption, then His Holiness can strengthen His stand point thank to the declarations of the cultural fighter Philopat Galliani who asserts that I am a slob, crazy, drug addicted person. And a carnal son of mine, Veterinary Nino Gerbino, says that I beat the wife. And the son of a money-bags Andrea Valcarenghi declares that I fled after robbing Mondo Beat cash. And these are respectable persons whose joint witnesses say that I am a slob, crazy, drug addicted person who beat the wife and fled with Mondo Beat cash. Therefore, what His Holiness ought to repair to such an individual?… However there is a compensation that His Holiness can’t avert, so I pretend it: arrived 20 minutes late at the first papal meeting, His Holiness for apologizing said –“Maybe I am Italianising!”. Now, the joke is racist and told by a German as aged as His Holiness it shows a Nazi matrix, the same matrix of that other “The Germans lost the war because of the Italians!” that those Nazis who survived the war were propagating to justify the defeat. Then let’s dot the i’ s and cross the t’ s before His Holiness takes the habit to deliver Himself in Nietzschean transports when pontificating. So, the Germans lost the war in the Channel and in the air over London, not because of the Italians but because of the Englishmen. Then they lost the war at El Alamein, yet because of the Englishmen. Finally they lost the war at Stalingrad, where the Russians broke them (I will use a pious metaphor) the kidneys. Not only! But also! Hitler could protract the war for some months thank to Mussolini, who buffered him in a front with the Repubblica Sociale Italiana, and that Mussolini did for giving Hitler time to achieve the Atomic Bomb, Mussolini self had been stolen when he was stolen of those scientists who were able to realize it. Mussolini and Hitler’s is the history of two amateur politicians who had defied the professionals. So, neither His Holiness lost the Second World War nor arrived late to the first papal meeting because of the Italians, but because of the inscrutable divine decrees (shall I suggest His Holiness how to perform as pope?) therefore, because I am an Italian who feels honoured to be such, I expect formal excuses from His Holiness.

Geneva, June 36 after the landing on the Moon.

Against the macabre VATICAN : VAFUSEX, Vandalic Fury and Sex!