Το Κορίτσι Χωρίς Όνομα εναντίον της Επιτροπής Ονοματοθεσίας (Ισλανδία)

SBE

¥
Πρόσφατα συνάντησα κάποιον που είχε το περίεργο όνομα Ζενιθ (Zenith). Και δεν ήταν Άραβας.
 

nickel

Administrator
Staff member

Έτσι κουτσουρεμένος που έφτασε εδώ μέσα ο τίτλος, θα έπρεπε να μπει στο νήμα «Τίτλοι αλλαντάλλων». Δεν κρίθηκαν ένοχοι για το όνομα που αποφάσισαν να δώσουν στο παιδί τους, αλλά για τη συμμετοχή τους σε ναζιστική οργάνωση που τέθηκε εκτός νόμου πρόπερσι.
 

Zazula

Administrator
Staff member
Έτσι κουτσουρεμένος που έφτασε εδώ μέσα ο τίτλος, θα έπρεπε να μπει στο νήμα «Τίτλοι αλλαντάλλων». Δεν κρίθηκαν ένοχοι για το όνομα που αποφάσισαν να δώσουν στο παιδί τους, αλλά για τη συμμετοχή τους σε ναζιστική οργάνωση που τέθηκε εκτός νόμου πρόπερσι.
Είναι απ' τα πρόσφατα μαθήματα clickbaiting που 'χω κάνει... :inno:
 
Ενώ εμείς με τον Παπαδόπουλο δεν έχουμε τέτοια προβλήματα.:D

Άσχετο, αλλά τι στην ευχή θα πει “a post-fascist who refers to those values in a non-ideological way”; :huh:
 

Earion

Moderator
Staff member
Άσχετο, αλλά τι στην ευχή θα πει “a post-fascist who refers to those values in a non-ideological way”; :huh:

That building became the headquarters of a new movement called CasaPound. Over the next 15 years, it would open another 106 centres across Italy. [The leader…] described each new centre as a “territorial reconquest”. Because every centre was self-financing, and because they claimed to “serve the people”, those new centres in turn opened gyms, pubs, bookshops, parachute clubs, diving clubs, motorbike clubs, football teams, restaurants, nightclubs, tattoo parlours and barbershops. CasaPound suddenly seemed everywhere. But it presented itself as something beyond politics: this was “metapolitics”, echoing the influential fascist philosopher Giovanni Gentile, who wrote in 1925 that fascism was “before all else a total conception of life”.

Where the other fascists seemed like throwbacks to the 1930s, CasaPound focused on contemporary causes and staged creative campaigns: in 2006 they hung 400 mannequins all over Rome, with signs protesting about the city’s housing crisis. In 2012, CasaPound militants occupied the European Union’s office in Rome and dumped sacks of coal outside to protest on behalf of Italian miners. Many of their policies looked surprising: they were against immigration, of course, but on the supposedly “progressive” grounds that the exploitation of immigrant labourers represented a return to slavery.

CasaPound argued that because a proportion of immigrants had arrived illegally, their opposition was about legality rather than race.

There was plenty of ideological contortionism. In 2007, CasaPound started describing itself not as fascist, but as estremo centro alto (…), which means “extreme, high centre”. It namechecked improbable influences, such as Che Guevara and the great anarchist singer-songwriters Rino Gaetano and Fabrizio De André.

... the occupied school was called Casa Montag, after the protagonist of the Ray Bradbury novel Fahrenheit 451, Guy Montag. It was the first of many occasions in which CasaPound would confound ideological expectations. Most people read Bradbury’s novel as a critique of an anti-intellectual, totalitarian state, but for the CasaPounders it represented their own oppression by the forces of anti-fascism in Italian politics, who they regarded as metaphorical book-burners. Anticipating the rhetoric of the alt-right, CasaPound claimed to be a space “where debate is free”.

In the entrance hall of their new home, CasaPounders painted a hundred or so surnames in garish colours, suggesting the ideological lineage of their movement. Many were obvious – Mussolini, Oswald Mosley, Nietzsche, the writer and proto-fascist Gabriele D’Annunzio, the Italian fascist philosopher Julius Evola – but many more were bizarre or wishful: Homer, Plato, Dante, Kerouac and even cartoon characters such as Captain Harlock and Corto Maltese. All were men.


The fascist movement that has brought Mussolini back to the mainstream (The Guardian, 22 Feb. 2018)
 

daeman

Administrator
Staff member

 

Zazula

Administrator
Staff member

Rollo and Dido had an unusual childhood, growing up in Islington in a house full of books with no television and no visitors. Their father, William, worked in publishing; their mother, Claire, writes poetry. Both children clearly love her and are fiercely protective of her, but her eccentricities often made their young lives embarrassing and difficult.

They hated being different. Their names. Their odd clothes. Their strange packed lunches. 'Everyone would be asking where the funny smell was coming from and you'd open it and it would be last night's rat- atouille on some sort of disintegrating rye bread. Which is not what you want when everyone else has got nice white-bread sandwiches and a Penguin. We've always strived to be... normal.

'When we were younger,' Dido says, 'it was a strange old world, but now we look back and wonder if we'd be doing what we do if Mum hadn't have been that way. Now when she gets on her high horse about something, I might still think it's completely wrong, but I also feel, "Good on you, with your strange logic. At least you think something." Obviously as a kid, you can't bear the fact that your parents might actually be individuals and have troubles. They were young - I realise that now that I'm heading towards 30 at full speed. My mum had Rollo by then and was just about to have me. And I'm not ready!'

Dido was named after the Queen of Carthage in Virgil's Aeneid. At home, at school, to her family and friends, she has always been Dido, just as her brother has always been Rollo. On her birth certificate, however, her name is Florian Cloud De Bounevialle Armstrong. The name Rollo was christened with is apparently equally fantastic, but all his sister will reveal is that his first name is Roland.

'To be called one thing and christened another is actually very confusing and annoying,' she says. 'It's one of the most irritating things that my parents did to me. I'm still irritated by it. Florian is a German man's name. That's just mean. To give your child a whole lot of odd names. They were all so embarrassing.' As for the Dido part, she likes it now (although it still finds ways to annoy her: in much of Europe, they pronounce it Dee-doh). But growing up, she hated it. 'I thought it was cruel to call me Dido and then expect me to just deal with it.' She preferred Chloe, and when playing with one friend on a nearby housing estate, she called herself Claire. But then her mum turned up asking for Dido, and all the local kids fell about laughing. She never went back.
 
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