The comedy of the Cav. Buttafuoco tells the anomalous life of the Cheshire Cat Silvio

Is it him or isn’t it him? Of course it’s him: lucky him. Even when it’s not him anymore. Silvio Berlusconi, anomalous giant, doctor of political amoralism as in the Middle Ages one could be in theology, the rampant entrepreneur who managed to sell apartments even before having built them, the one who had never been frightened by any business, the one who has always lived of adventures, hazards, oblique paths, the creator of Forza Italia and the PDL, but also the destroyer of Forza Italia and the PDL, the amanuensis of himself, the indescribable, indefinable man who spun the Second Republic in a whirlwind and the madness of an entire country. Is it him or isn’t it him? Of course it’s him, the oblique funny guy who has taken his chapter of homeland history. He who once the charisma is exhausted, buried with the honors of a state funeral in the solemnity of the Milan Cathedral “may the flood come”. There is a great deal of the history of the Foglio in this book by Pietrangelo Buttafuoco, first among the leaflets, who perhaps finally wrote that story about which Giuliano Ferrara joked, at the time of the reigning Knight, and which the Director would have liked to title like this: “Il Cav.”. With the point. And nothing else. The adventure of the cummenda Brianza who rose to the rank of statesman, a story that even then – speaking of it alive – was a plot awaiting representation. All a film that not even Paolo Sorrentino was able to make. But Buttafuoco does. This is not “They” but it is “Him”. Indeed: “Blessed him” (Longanesi).