To all of my ‘NEXT GENNIES’! (as well as all of my POINDEXTERS)!
And you know damn well that TINA TURNER don’t shop at IKEA! She don’t want nothing to do with IKE-B OR IKE-C either.
Sometimes, in going for more, we limit ourselves.
WELCOME TO MY UNDERWORLD LAIR!
Sometimes, the absence of ‘teachers’ insures that teaching will get done. In the absence of ‘teachers’, life is.
FISH AND CHIPS ARE ON THE HOUSE (try not to fall off the roof getting to them)!
For all of their nonsense, we admire the ENGLISH because essentially they are honest in nature. Cruel and discursive yes, but to their core, you get the truth. And it may not be pretty or couched in terms amenable to civility, but you do tend to get the truth from the ‘Englanders’. They are not the world’s best liars and that is a benefit to their spirits. Anyway, the better liars don’t tend to get elected, they tend to be APPOINTED.
Al-Qaeda? No bitches, AL GREEN!
Storage for straws, and a few of these leftover items: & , , £òòì:=i6
NEWSFLASH! Left to their own devices and without heavy political interference, BLACK AND MIXED RACE ARTISTS MAKE DIVERGENT MUSIC. WE DO NOT DESIRE TO MAKE THE SAME MUSIC OVER AND OVER, AND SOUND EACH LIKE THE OTHER! Before the racists got to us (and most of the ‘black’ executives who look after artists are just as closed minded and racist as anyone white, maybe even more resentful), we prided ourselves, we ‘coons’ on our versatility and ability to make new law with our particular rhythms and phrasings, trying to out do the other is how we progressed and grew before we were told culturally to STOP GROWING! Stop that growing, it’s a threat to the American way (hegemony and dominance by the same few suspects, by the same profile), and then other blacks are found and very well compensated the degree to which we other darkies are kept in line, and brainwashed to believe that it is counter-political to let our musical ideas flow like the waters that brought them in the first place. The record biz deserves to die, it has been a murderous beast to many other souls and has been raided by Washington and turned into a limp dick thing. Once, it actually believed (and proved) that it could alter the force of evil in our world, and put trouble on the run.
We should have a monarchy in America so at least we can have a President which serves the people while we can still have Kings who serve themselves, without confusing the two.
…and the BEATLES also had perhaps the 2 greatest singers in Pop as well. It is possible that without fanfare, the maestro McCartney was the greatest Pop singer in music after the master Sinatra and what was special to me about the master Lennon’s voice were that without too much guile or histrionics, he were the greatest white soul singer ever. He didn’t have perhaps its most polished and studied voice, but like all great soul singers, everything he sang went straight to your gut, he sang as if his house were on fire and he had to scream to be heard. They are never given enough credit for how much they influenced SINGING. Only the great and brave maestro Otis Redding ranks with John when it comes to honest unaffected pure emotional delivery. Racism works both ways, and the BEATLES were as well denied their ‘propers’ due to having been white, though to them, it were only a superficial distinction, your ears and spirit understood a different law…. We are similarly dazzled enough by the master SMOKEY ROBINSON’S songwriting gravity, that we forget that he too influenced tons of other singers both during and after his own stellar youth, there is no other singer on earth who sounds like the great ‘Smoke’, who were Rock’s initial BARACK OBAMA, of examples, of reaching out, of having made the grade, then turned it on its ear.
…but what got you most of all about Lennon’s voice is that ‘achy-breaky’ yearning thing he had going on, the way his voice would catch in a certain space is that DNA thing that makes it so identifiable, that and the ‘sneer’. McCartney’s voice was effortlessness itself, it had/has wings on it, no cheesy pun intended (OK maybe a little).
That the master John never considered himself a great singer is why he never got in the way of his great singing.
….and a singer too great for the song gets in the way of it.
It is also often obscured by his supernatural genius that the prophet BOB MARLEY, sang his ass off. As far as singers go, he must rank with the purest and the best of them, eons be damned.
…and our master SLY STONE was/is so great, such a visionary, that he is the subject of a whole government conspiracy and there has still been none of us since, who have even touched the deeper implications of his solar vision of music and its value to mankind, the children of certainly not a lesser God. He paid, as messiahs among us must, a dear price for his willingness to go beyond form, beyond restraint, and prove to us the existence of a higher order, from which we come, lest we forget.
The master STONE were a verifiable musical, cosmic NUCLEAR WEAPON. He were a weapon of mass distinction ! But even more a weapon of MASS INSTRUCTION. So one way or another, a way had to be found to put him asleep……….
The mind can buckle under such a load, and yet, there is in grace a sweetness of renewal, a promise that a fresh spring is a salute to any man, whatever his battle scars be, whatever toxins have pushed aside reason in his mind, can still be undimmed, and come forth gushing with sparkling cool waters!
They may call him a country singer but to my ears HANK WILLIAMS was as pure a ‘soul’ singer as there was or could be. It cut straight past the ‘sheissen’ and into your spirit, and it gets to me still, every time. And as songwriters go, he still remains nestled among the gold standard, they get no better, all writers can learn from him.
Sometimes, the trade off of getting older, more mature, is that you have more courage, but less nerve.
..and what youth gains in nerve, it lacks in sensibility.
THE FUTURE IS AN AGREEMENT.
…and were it etched in stone, we’d all be reading ‘newsrocks’ and not newspapers.
The mark of a good musician, or good anything for that matter, is not in their dazzle, their razzle, or their technique, but in simply whether they hold your attention, all the rest is judgement, nonsense.
Though the modern sophisticate may call it manic depression, the old school just called it the blues, and one can hardly expect to draw from the blues, but not be obliged to feel and bear it when it come calling. The BLUES ARE A LEGITIMATE MEDITATION, and who gives their heart to it are returned in time to more heart. The blues can at times be hard to bear but no one can aspire to any sort of greatness, nor intimacy without being a card carrying member of its brigade and the ‘Crossroads’ are very real and if you do not go to it, it may come instead to you, as ‘initiation’ and as a point of no return.
And in the ‘vein’ of the Vagina Monologues, Maitreya proudly presents- THE COCK CHRONICLES- More later……(which we hope to turn into a full scale musical featuring those guys from THE LIBERTINES). Under the guise of liberal fair play, we would love to see the ANGINA MONOLOGUES (or the Hebrew version- the AGITA MONOLOGUES). “Does Hebrew?” “No, He bakes”. “O cool, then let’s go visit him!”
Players, heads up, the LES PAUL ‘TRADITIONAL’ (based on the old STANDARD model, but hand made), are delicious and are at a great cost now relative to its value and the economy. They are among the best guitars they have made in quite some time and I have no endorsement arrangement at all with them, just a fan passing on the good word. In about 2 years, you won’t be able to find them as easily or as at good a cost, as the economy will not be able to support them being hand made and the costs of fresh wood is also becoming prohibitive. I gave 2 of these models away in the 90’s and recently, both arrived again within my reach, fresher, new and ready to resume contact with the world beyond my space pod.
Controversial statement number 14- JOHN COLTRANE FUCKED UP AS MUCH MUSIC AS HE DISCOVERED.
When ‘black filmmakers’ can start making films and not just black films, the whole brigade will be moved forward. The same perspective, told over and again by the same profiles is bound to lose traction at some point. Our society is still far too held back by the Jews insistence on keeping us and our creative, visionary powers under their ham fisted control (pun intended). Visual output and its power to teach is largely under the control of the Semites, though they often go out of their way to deny what is most obvious. Oh, and African- Americans largely dominate basketball. As Spike Lee points out, our images still haven’t progressed much past Stepin’ Fetchit, just the lingo changed and the pants got baggier….
We can also grow the hell up and stop begging other tribes for the money and permission to tell our stories as we have lived them and seen them lived. The old system is not for the new man. Systems come to the ready. Are you ready? And you do not need a lot of money to make a good script, you need a lot of money to film a bad script. Just good simple camera work and some good words, a good idea is enough to tempt! New schools can be born which adhere to their own laws, or none at all. We are visionaries by nature, we dream things and make them true, we just need to wake the fuck back up and reclaim the audacity of ourselves, much as our gifted young President did. There is so very much to do, which is the good news, for why else are we here? I do not have to be a racist to announce that we grew weary of white people (and black people as well) trying to define me and coerce me into accepting their meagre findings, and all based on the last quarters nigger, never the next….
We take people as they come and expect to be received as we come, all other ways are games we have grown so used to playing, we have fallen from our perches and lost touch with ourselves.
OM MANI CHRISTUM!
The contradiction is not in our lives, but in our judgements of our lives.
I were raised a PROTESTANT (though now a ‘Cathy’), so as a consequence, I protest a lot.
Maestro John McCain, J-Mac, was fundamentally right when he said that the American economy is fundamentally sound. He were mocked but it were his way of telling us with a wink-wink, that IT AIN’T THE ECONOMY, IT’S THE THIEVES. We were jacked and were jacked to such an extent, we are still too dizzy to see the culprits tip toeing their way past Wall Street, and waltzing their way down Pennsylvania avenue.
The best way to lose your sanity is to spend a lot of time questioning it.
We bring to your attentions, a new ANGEL of service available now to serve all who feel and call. His name is PHALOREM and he is a new helper, though millions of years old in Earth time. He can appear wispy and ghostlike, as well as sparks of light, primarily white and blue. He is a wonderful friend of the Holy Spirit and is an amazing ‘organizing’ presence. He looks after individuals and whole families with equal attention to detail and dedication to service for the children of his creator. He is very protective and has a tremendous sense of humour. You will even dream him, many of you and come to feel and verify the truth of his presence. He is for Christians, Scientists, Jews, Muslims and atheists, even for those of us still stuck in the adolescent dick joke making phases of our lives!
He is a great gift and comes at the right time, he is even available to the White House.
He arrives from the area of the galaxy where the North Star is located, and he is no joke.
It is pronounced FAY’-lo- rem, and about 3 months ago began speaking to us of his existence and the importance of his name, which to me sounded all at once familiar and strangely new at the same time. Others have already verified his movements in their life since we were instructed to announce his availability. He is an awesome friend, and the Dog species likes him a great deal as well. Welcome to our world, PHALOREM!
But wait, APOLLO WAS A CHICKEN!
…And just a little ‘loco’ as well.
Upon their first meeting at the first American continental congress: BEN FRANKLIN, MEET BEN DOVER, NOW BEN DOVER, BEN FRANKLIN!
Ben Dover was definitely one of our most flexible, if least well known statesmen. He was certainly none the worse for DELAWARE.
We should also have a ‘fools’ parliament’, elected officials chosen because they are fools and unafraid of being that. A congress of jesters might be just what the doctor ordered. The thing with idiots is that at any moment, they just may happen to tell the truth and mean it.
We are big fans of TOMATOES, they are underestimated as a brain food. They are one of the best and they help keep the blood good!
…and seeing your mother in her tights gave a whole new appreciation of the meaning VACUUM PACKED.
Our musical -THE ‘PENIS’ PERSPECTIVE, A PASSION PLAY- (a summary of the bill of fare – In theatres next spring)!
Act1-Scene 1- We men are told that we have 2 heads, 2 brains (though when we try to go for 2 women, we are judged), so a man is sleeping in the middle of the night and is awoken with a start by his ‘other’ brain (for poetic and convenience’s sake, called ‘Brian’) and told in no uncertain terms that he were tired of being second banana, and were ready to separate and go independent. (For this scene we tried to get the rights from Kylie Minogue , ‘Can’t Get You out of My Head’, but she remained unconvinced).
Accepting the little brains (‘Brian’s) decision, the man had no choice but to let the little aroused wonder depart and begin his journey as a free man, no longer encumbered by having to co-exist with a man with all of that guilt, uncertainty and fear of spicy foods. The song (all songs original, except for what we stole), ‘HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW, BITCHES’ is sung while the little ‘willy’ boogies himself off to his new free life as his own ‘man’.
Act 2 (just a snippet), Scene 2- At a posh bar, Brian is trying to seduce a woman who blows him off by informing him that her vibrator is bigger, so hurt, he dares her to show it to him, she does, pulls it out of her purse right at the bar, and losing his cool, Brian starts punching the vibrator, gets into a brawl and pointedly whips the pink vibrators pink, lavender ass. The woman, aghast leaves the bar in tears, while the little brain, now solo, as if nothing happens, continues eating the peanuts. He mopes into the song, ‘IT’S NOT EASY BEING FREE’.
Act 2-Scene 3- While in the men’s , having a slash, our little protagonist falls into the urinal and has to be helped back out again by a decent, though curious fellow and in this moment of humility and gratitude, bursts into the song, ‘YOU GIVE ME YOUR HAND, I’LL GIVE YOU MY HEART’. It’s a crowd pleaser meant to induce tears.
Act 3- Scene 1- Juxtaposed over the other is a scene where we see our protagonists senior host coming to terms with life without his little brain (‘Brian’), moist with memories, we see him absentmindedly rubbing his feet, his plan B, and though this feet rubbing is helping his posture, it is doing nothing to attract lady friends and in this period of loneliness, the orchestra begins to swell into a rendition of the old Billy Holiday chestnut, ‘GOD BLESS THE CHILD WHO’S GOT HIS OWN’. Meanwhile, little brain (Brian) finds that he has to jump up and down quite vigorously in order to (shall we say), ‘compliment and complete himself’, and finds that without a helping hand, it’s all rather exhausting, a little cold even. He thinks to himself how much life without the big brain is beginning to suck. Stuttering whenever he gets excited, upon realizing that it might be time to go home he breaks into the original song, ‘(Butter My Stutter) I’M JUST A LITTLE RICHARD WITH BIG RICHARD DREAMS’. Laughs ensue when the clarinet set piece accompaniment begins, and mistaking it for yet another vibrator, ‘Brian’ attacks it and punches it back in its seat in the orchestra pit. To subdue Brian, some men in white coats come to restrain it by placing a condom on it and leading it away, muffled and kicking. We hear the song, ‘DICKHEADS OF THE WORLD UNITE (THOUGH WE HAVE NO FISTS TO FIGHT)’.
Act 3- Scene 2- Wandering after some drink in a pub while trying to find his way back home, Brian finds some local love and after ensuring that he can pay, receives some relief. Falling asleep, Brian has visions of a large group of German WW2 helmets marching towards him, he also sees over the horizon, a cadre of ‘Pilzenkopf’, mushrooms who are all moving in unison. In the dream, they all move in on him and he is left to defend himself and has no weapon by which to do so, so he remembers that, as an uncircumcised member, he can wrap himself up and ‘go within’. After awakening, he jumps into a bird bath to clear his little head. He breaks into the song, ‘WOW, WAS THAT A CRAZY DREAM OR WHAT ?’ Afterwards, stopping by a fruit and veg stand, he takes a tomato, recalling that he were told that tomatoes are brain food, and Brian, the little brain is hungry. Seeing some beans on offer only makes him miss all the more, his two small companions which share him as an organ connected to the big brain. Here we hear the song, ‘TESTICLES, TESTICLES, ONE , TWO THREE’.
Act 3 Scene 3- accosted by some thugs on his way back, who threaten to slice his foreskin (and turn him into a ‘foreskinhead’ and we hear the song here, ‘TO BE FORESKINNED IS TO BE FORWARNED’), he fights valiantly until the police arrive to arrest the disturbance and they are all hauled down the police station. The other policemen crowd around the little Brian and to his surprise, regale him with the woes of their own conflicts with their little ‘Moby’s’, and after some listening and reassurances
(‘Pet the Pooch, petting the pooch is perfect’) and encouraging the officers to be sensitive enough to ‘consult with Hindu astrologers in order to find ones’ ‘DIRECTIONAL DICKMALA’, he is released and driven back to his home for a tearful heartfelt reunion with his other half. Before he is escorted to the squad car by the many policemen, they all break into a rendition of the old Mott The Hoople classic, ‘ALL THE YOUNG DUDES’. Arriving at home, he is offered cookies and milk, he opts instead for a whiskey and lime and things begin the way things do, of settling back down and returning to normal. 2 old buddies, now more appreciative and aware of the costs of life without the other, and the pointlessness of it all. A man has two brains and that’s OK. They decide to take a celebratory trip together, A big brain and his little Brian, off to BAHRAIN! We hear the rousing send off song, BRAIN AND BRIAN IN BAHRAIN IN THE RAIN! And for final effect, little Brian ‘gushes’ when he’s happy and singing!
(and little Brian wears the ‘reunion’ t-shirt he got from his partner which read, A FULLY ACCREDITED ‘MEMBER’ SINCE 1974!)
THE END!
COPYRIGHT SFM 2009! for the Richard Head company, a division of Head Arrangement Entertainment, all rights reserved, though some, are less reserved after a drink or two….
…and then the Mrs. M walks into the bedroom to encounter the sleepy head with the news, “Cheer up, you’ve just received an award!” (About 3 to 4 days a month, I encounter pretty intense depression, which is often as well me absorbing negative attacks from other souls, it happens, it is also apparently the way that the creative brain gears up for more inspiration and productivity, so it is actually a friend, though it takes a while to feel it as a friendly influence), “Huh?, What award, I don’t get awards, my colleagues get awards, I get ‘citations’”. “Well, replied the Mrs. M, you just got something from PRS” which is the British songwriter/composers agency that we have been ‘membered’ with since my last incarnation as a valid artist, and in truth the only of the major agencies which has ever backed me when push came to shove, and who have done far more to encourage me as a writer, than has my erstwhile publishers, EMI-for whom, I’m just that one, first album guy). She then returned into the chamber with an envelope and within that, an impressive looking scroll certifying that we were now a FULL MEMBER (and with additional voting rights). Having never been a full member of anything before, I was duly impressed enough to immediately have it hung and ‘plaqued’. My wife was surprised to see how moved I was, I explained that although everyone (seemingly, and not too exaggeratedly) I shake hands with gets awarded, though never me, and allowing for just a little self pity, she were also moved to hear me exclaim that I had absolutely no earthly idea what the award was for, and even less, what my full and additional voting rights got me, nor whether it included discounts at certain shops or more online points for downloads. Truth be told, my youth was full of disdain for awards, I am not one who were raised to expect them, and getting them always seemed to preclude further harassment from family, friends and my local society in general so I incubated myself against seeing them as something to long for, they were mainly political and largely a pain in the asset base. Surprising the sentiment that swept across me when other writers and their sponsors chose to give me an ‘upgrade’. Though ignorant of what it now entails, we are grateful for the inclusion. Bear in mind that even now, I still have people who would prefer that we see ourselves as nought but a singer, not a musician, nor a ‘writer’, but a singer who can ‘write a little’. It is brainwashing and we have always been assisted by the Lord who blessed us with our gift in avoiding all of those barren and empty voices. We are seen as less of a threat when we stick close to the ‘black performer’ profile and all of its accumulated clichés. My notion of being awarded were always something I got from being able to spend time with elder musicians who taught and inspired me, and you would these days sooner find Saddam Hussein’s name on an ‘award’ before you would even see my name in the papers (we are still being ‘boycotted’ and disapproved of by the establishment, as if ignoring it will send me away chastised and other artists chastened, though we ate at CHASEN’S once and the food was delicious)! We hoped to help open the door of rock back open for the people who created and inspired it before being pushed out of it once enough of the right ‘profile’ had come to assert it’s claim. It were meant for each who recognized themselves within it, but once re-colonized, we were mocked for wishing to retain our images within it and we had to once more witness our creations, our industries over run by interlopers once the old money saw all of the new money coming in. Fair is fair and music belongs to all people, in all places and in all times, as intended by the angels of creation who created the tones for human musical interaction. The cultural and race wars stole it from us and wouldn’t give it back. We were only allowed to seed and pick the cotton that others got to wear around themselves. So, THANK YOU PRS. You Rock!
….if I have any say in the matter, I would like to trade in some of my PRS points for a small TOASTER OVEN. Thank you! Just send it to my place in MILANO. The beige one please.
Now, have an explosively positive 2009! (While I check with a Hindu to see where my DIRECTIONAL DICKMALA is this year, just to be safe….).
(..and if you do not pay your Hindu’s, you may not get to far)!
We speak to many diverse people and their interests. Some of you believe in Angels, some of you refuse to accept anything outside the realm of the physical 3 rd dimension (though , like Russian dolls, life and her dimensions can fit inside one another, with layer by layer being penetrated by time and understanding). Some are scientists, some fable-ists, some with astrological interests and those who believe anything at all new and revelatory is from the bowels of Satan. I know, trust and believe in life, in all of her varying dimensions, her different dresses, her sleeping and waking hours as well as the stupefying state between. What do I believe in? EVERYTHING, as life has displayed to these eyes a portion of her vast inheritance and her willingness to share it with those who dare ask. I believe in Ghosts (though we do not fear them), Angels, out of body experiences, dream flying, dream visions, waking visions, I believe that spirits and angels, and Gods still speak to us, work with us, though to whom they come, they may come as differently as the next. I believe in healers, as much as the charlatans, we accept that even some ‘medical doctors’ are called to be great healing conduits, we know of people who didn’t even go to grade school, but who can lay their hands upon you and move your energy back towards the good. We believe in teleportation, psychic communication, absentee healing (or ‘projection’), we believe not only in past lives but simultaneous, multiple ones as well as future lives influencing this one, just as much as we believe in their relative unimportance, that THIS LIFE is the only life that matters. We believe that nothing in God dies, ever, but shifts and accepts a new assignment or rest until called again. We believe that the Lord and his Angel posse walk into human as well as animal lives upon invitation or necessity to further write the laws and options for living. We believe in appropriate excess, we also trust the values of moderation. We speak to those who believe that all messengers should be docile and tamed (more the image granted to the incarnations of the merciful Vishnu) we speak to those who believe that we should be rabble rousers (more in keeping with the lineage attributes of Shiva).
We address those who think I am too much, and those who taunt that we are not enough.
We believe in good hard work as food for the soul, we believe in denying our spirit nothing that calls to it and moves it. We believe in both complete human autonomy as well as the vertical power of prayer. We believe in God, though we do not accept anyone else telling us who our God is (to us) and how my relationship with him ought to be approached. We believe in the genius and necessity of childhood, we accept the ‘at the crossroads’ journey into manhood. We believe that ALL IMAGINATION IS INSTEAD, MEMORY, memory which we have forgotten, or the inherited thought patterns of our ancestors, who’s burning and yearning unfulfilled desires must still be born out some where in the family blood. We believe ultimately that life is good, though many of its ‘meanings’, suck. Most of all, we believe in the who the hell we are, come rain, shine, or social harassment. And we believe that when real change takes over a person’s soul, there can be no turning back, though many labour beneath the illusion that persuasion can change things back, even as the clock and it’s bookkeepers have moved on. We also trust that the best use of the ‘reparations’ that we are owed, despite the attempt to brush off the argument as illogical, is to provide more conscious and comprehensive education, particularly the true history of the black Diaspora. We feel that ‘testing’ is by and large bullshit and ridiculously socially biased. Let US put together a TEST for you, and then see how well you shape up in our psychology. Or let women design a test for men, and see how well we men do trying to figure out the meaning of THEIR world. Some of these more tired race filters must fall if we are to write new text, sing new and uplifting hymns to the America we see and deserve, inclusive of all, the black, the white, the redneck, indeed any combination with a passport. And before someone says, “Hey, just shut up and sing!”, THIS IS ME SINGING!
I believe in the stoic nature of man, we know the great value of detachment. We also know that a well placed temper tantrum can achieve amazing results. We use in life both our left and our right hand, none more sacred than the other, but a compliment to the other.
The motto of this whole section, spiritually is this, PAUL McCARTNEY DON’T SMOKE NO MIDDLE CLASS WEED!
There is a difference between being opposed and being stopped, and the good news is (to the wise), as long as you are being opposed, you cannot at the same time be stopped!
Diamond itself, when it confesses, confesses to MOONSTONE.
The POLITICIANS will tell you that it is not the decisions that kill you but the REQUESTS!
Adulation itself is a form of jealousy.
The best way to fight assholes is to let them see that you are an even bigger one.
If we make you blush, it’s good for the circulation!
Controversial statement number 26b- The allure of prostitution isn’t sex, but the ‘payment’.
Seen in its own light, being opposed assures movement, it is a law of physics thing.
Undisciplined sexual tension is the root cause of most violence (especially between men).
All of the requisite space needed for Bernard Madoff’s alibi……(can you imagine if this dude were Mexican? He’d be already UNDERNEATH the jail)!
What happens when the immovable object meets irresistible force? Cracks in the space/time continuum, and just as summer weeds grow from sidewalk breaks, so do new realities, born of the wrench created when two objects of such magnitude collide. The whole point of the collision is to incubate new worlds. Time also exists, ‘sideways’.
…as well, the ‘aura’ of the two objects seeking to coexist in one space would in and of itself create a new space by expanding through tension, the one space into another for both to exist in without compromising the space the other needs to be itself, complete.
Pps Enjoy the new Era. You have worked hard for it!
Om Mani Christum
COPYRIGHT SANANDA MAITREYA
MILANO 16th JANUARY 2009
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
INTELLECTUAL COPYRIGHT PROTECTED