The most wise and pious of the Greek letters Andreas Laskaratos wrote in his Mysteries of Kefallonia (his home island) that Christian men pretend they are god abiding and church attending Christians all year long only to be in secret anti-christian and atheists. And this of course can be equally applied to society especially to the master of the house. I mean master of the house the one who pretends all year long to be faithful to his wife and in secret he’s always an horny peeper. The same way the leftist pretends all year long to be a true supporter of the leftist ideals only in secret to be a libertarian, self-centered, biased, arriviste and hypocrite. But of course we live in a society where the secret isn’t secret anymore and its magic baffles the masses with stories and commercials of academic ingenuity. Here everything becomes obvious appearing on the television screen and I mean the events and celebrities and most importantly the pussy analysis. Passing a bottle of vodka before the eyes of a nun you discover a sadistic maniac in leather underwear who at random whips chained naked men. The magic screen of television reveals every secret. It lowers the panties of everyone. And lowering the panties of a person speeds the process of everything. Therefore it degrades. And as the old wise villager said, comrades this year we’ve voted more times than we’ve fucked.

~Translated by Manolis Aligizakis

Έγραψε ο πανοσιολογιότατος των γραφών Αντρέας Λασκαράτος στα Μυστήρια της Κεφαλονιάς, πως ο χριστιανός όλον το χρόνο υποκρίνεται χριστιανικότητα, και μόνον εις το κρυφό είναι αντίχριστος και άθεος. Και θα μπορούσα κοινωνικώς να επεκτείνω τούτη τη φράση για το νοικοκύρη. Λέγοντας πως ο νοικοκύρης όλο το χρόνο υποκρίνεται νοικοκυροσύνη και μονογαμία, και μόνον εις το κρυφό είναι ανοικοκύρευτος και καυλωμένος μπανιστιρτζής. Και λέγοντας επίσης πως ο αριστερός όλο το χρόνο υποκρίνεται αριστεροσύνη, και μόνον εις το κρυφό είναι νεοφιλελεύθερος, ατομιστής, παρτάκιας, αριβίστας, υποκριτής. Αλλά βεβαίως ζούμε σε καιρούς που το κρυφό γίνεται ευκόλως φανερό και η τέχνη του να γαληνεύεις τις μάζες με παραμύθια πέρασε στα χέρια του ακαδημαϊκού της διαφήμισης. Κι εδώ φανερώνονται όλα με μιας, περνώντας το γυαλί της τηλεόρασης πάνω απ’ τα πράγματα και τα πρόσωπα και τις περισπούδαστες καταστάσεις και τις κλαψομούνικες αναλύσεις. Περνώντας το μπουκάλι της βότκας μπροστά απ’ την καλόγρια θα δεις μιαν αφηνιασμένη θηριοδαμάστρια με πέτσινα εσώρουχα να μαστιγώνει αλυσοδεμένα αρσενικά. Ο μαγικός φακός φανερώνει το κρυφό. Ξεβρακώνει. Και το ξεβράκωμα επιταχύνει τις εξελίξεις. Τουτέστιν αποδομεί. Κι όπως αναφώνησε γέρος σοφός εις ορεινό χωρίον, εφέτος σύντροφοι ψηφίσαμε περισσότερες φορές απ’ όσες γαμήσαμε.


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IDOLATERS, a novel by JOANNA FRANGIA, translated by MANOLIS


“It was a Dream”
First was the heat, then the damn dream that found
him this dawn talking to himself; sweaty he walked down the
stairs looking around, his nose like a hound, as if some bad omen
lurked in the corners of the room. He rushed to the garden. Soon
it’ll be daylight soon! He thought, taking courage in the doubtful
projection. The lights shone at the far end of the sea on the opposite
shore. Everything was undisturbed, the island, the lighthouse
with its signals, the little moon, the far away songs of the drunks.
He threw himself on a chair and recalled the dream that filled him
with agony.
He was a tailor — in fact he is a tailor, a very talented one.
Though it was like a dream where he worked, a shadow approached
and froze him to death. An old man in rags, with a toothless
smile looked at him: “sew me something, young man, I’m about to
travel!” Hairs floated over his shiny head. He took out of his coat
something rectangular and showed it to the tailor. It was a bar of
gold. “Young man, I have no time to spare, I’m about to travel” he
yelled in his ear.
“The way you look, the only place left for you is the other world.”
“That’s what I mean”, the old man agreed.
“Damn you, you want me to sew you a shroud?” The tailor was
The horrible image took a step and sat opposite him: “a long
shroud with deep pockets to put in them all my treasures! I’ve
lived a miserable life. I have turned all I amassed into this: gold!
This life is too short” he stretched his bony finger showing
upward, “the other is more important. I want to take it all with
me and I want you to sew me a shroud with deep pockets.” He
widened his soulless eyes. “Hurry, otherwise I’ll take you with
The tailor felt a chill and his chest got heavy. He wanted to cry
out but his voice wasn’t there. With eyes glued to the out of this
world eyes of the old man he managed to at last wake up in the
condition we found him earlier.


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