evidently not yet sanctioned by the tastes of the audience, the pathetic saga of the pair of billionaires forced the use of a product for everyone, but only limited to the phone, pursues for its deleterious underlie implicit glorification of the powerful figure who wants only carnival sick of megalomania and gigantism, but unable to have a dark side that also affect those who are much poorer Briatore. And here is shown in the crib home seen through the eyes of the powerful psychology of impotence, a comedian here temporarily vector materialism paroxysmal increasing volumes and proportions, while remaining politically correct, not even for a moment, pointing to a much more human self destruction told by a great moral and material representations of Shakespeare, by history and news. Panariello which bowed to a Florentine accent we replaced a Carmelo Bene, which certainly would have swallowed genuine banknotes from 5 € to vomit on the lens of the camera yelling "Hamlet" with a grammelot hell. The "blank check" trivial commonplace of sublime plasticity of money, suitable for business to achieve unlimited budget as final demonstration of will power, we replaced clouds of cocaine along with guns fired from the ashes of Hunter S. Thompson. The steep decline of the power, behind the facade of a harmless parody, is not only saved but effectively mystified, and the desire to feel the VIPs seated on the couch next to us, for obvious inferiority complex, provides opportunities for tricksters replicate and worsen the trend. Decked out in red as a entreneuse, and fitted with heavy gold chandelier earrings, the girlfriend never officially vivacchia the edge of the saucy opulence, displaying a sympathy that distance, but by suggesting that the obscene implications see ethereal compliant. The whole paraphernalia sparigliato Christian is at the foot of the mighty, who runs a company of actors in a desperate attempt to find within itself a justification otherworldly hedonism, or at least a romantic justification mantles of nobility obscure manifestation of meanness inside walls, as majestically extended, closed to sharing with the outside world. Matrona and powerful can not do anything but appalled by the fruits of escalation materialistic, unable to produce even a good joke, hardly a good affordable, as it requires presence of mind and a bit of ethics. Who knows what to think about the real Briatore, and defecates like all other human beings on a toilet in gold, death to see who advances in deeper wrinkles and destined to win it on your make-up artist. Mindful of how the cathedrals of Europe were built thanks to the market in indulgences, and unconsciously accustomed to complacency, certainly lives in the belief that a phone call to Bonolis enough to earn a place in heaven.
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