The priest returned from hell Rihanna sings there And the

The priest returned from hell: “Rihanna sings there”. And the maneskins, right? Nicholas Porro

Of course there is a priest Jerald Johnson, who looks like one of those Chicago rappers, but is actually a Michigan priest who died and then came back from the grave. It happened in 2016 after a heart attack, he claims. He thought about it for a long time, metabolized the trip there and back and decided to tell his trip on TikTok, a Chinese app, and we would have to roll our eyes at that.

Father Jerald is clear that all this was not pious, instead of experiencing ecstatic sensations of a soul leaving the body, purified and ascending to heaven, it fell to him visit hell: He tells us about it on social media, he already has half a million views and the comments are from Malebolge. It still doesn’t look very polished. His vision of eternal damnation is very plastic, even cheesy, it seems to be straight out of a video clip. One expects who knows what anguish, spiritual darkness and allegories of timeless atonement, and instead we are near a Dante (who, let us not forget, founded the social rights in Italy in the Dugento) in a porn metal sauce: Men on 4 legs taking the heat, bulging eyes and, what is worse, the chains around their necks. It’s okay that they block everything in America, but you’ll agree that it’s a pretty naive, almost pop vision: Then, for heaven’s sake, everyone suffers in their own way, maybe it’s all true (we hope not ) who are we that we can speak? Still, it’s hard to share. But pass.

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However, where he finds it difficult to follow Don Johnson is on the artistic side: According to his father, there is a soundtrack like in Dario Argento’s films, and so far there is nothing to be said against it, on the contrary, there is no hell without diabolical music . The road from tritone to death metal is long and leads through Trillo del Diavolo, Tartini, Paganini, the “devil’s fiddler”, and so on and so forth. Unless you’re actually imagining it the affair populated by satanic music lunatics By definition I don’t know, Ozzy bat eater (although it’s now considered virtuous behavior by European Union and Mr Schwab guidelines), Led Zeppelin with their dark locks, backwards running ribbons, godless prayers full of subliminal incantations, the homage to Kenneth Anger and Alaistar Crowley, The Rolling Stones’ Sympathy for the Devil, The Invocation to My Demon Brother, composed by Mick Jagger, the cursed suggestions of rising rock star Charles Manson, the mad Nordics of satanic death, a whole flutter of symbols, formulas, cabals, visions, goat heads, goat hooves, you want how much stuff you can find in the rock mercantile universe. Not at all. In Father Jerald’s visions, In Hell, you’re listening to Ryhanna’s “Umbrella.” and “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” by Bobby McFerrin. If he were Italian, what would he find in it, the demon Cutugno singing “Mint Shaving Cream”, Pupos Chocolate Ice Cream and Pum Pum who is it from Ricchi & Poveri?

Now. Creolin Rihanna’s umbrella appears at least as a metaphor. Although if so there is no need to go there, we already taste hell here, as in the cartoon by Altan. But what does poor Bobby have to do with it? What is his fault? But how, an invitation to be happy not to worry would be the song of the bleakest, bleakest and most hopeless Hades? Also, if you want to introduce a sarcastic intent, the demons haunting you as you sing don’t worry, don’t worry, it seems a bit hair-pulled unless your name is Enrico Letta.

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If this is Hell, however, we can breathe a sigh of relief: as a total, abysmal punishment not wished on the worst piddino we would have imagined more of a Sanremo complete with Amadeus, a plethora of mourners of the rainbow and, dulcis in fundo, the male “bin beeeghin” scream, dressed like pacifiers in stockings, while Lucianina, Michela Murgia, Monica CirinnĂ , Elly Schlein, Vladimir Luxuria, Valeria Fedeli, Teresa Bellanova and the rest of the Politburo writhe in an unbearable Sabbath. That’s Profondo Rosso, Suspiria and Inferno together. Linked from the Brussels branch Ursula, Margarethe and Christine in an edition by Sorelle Bandiera. For me you go to the sad festival, for me you go to the eternal pain, for me you go to the lost people who live on the Riviera di Ponente; made me the Piddina Potestate, the sum of stupidity and first love. Abandon all hope, you entrants.

Co-director coco Chiara Ferragni, who has already co-explained: “I don’t know much about these esoteric metaphysical things but I’ll try to find out, but choose Pd and don’t forget to like me on Instagram”.

Max Del Papa, January 24, 2023