(si consiglia per la lettura del presente sproloquio, in sottofondo, l’ascolto del seguente brano: “Le sirene” – Vinicio Caposssela)
Ho avuto modo di conoscere Michel Martone, il viceministro Michel Martone, quando veniva a “tapparci i buchi” a Red Tv. Ed era uno bravo. Come sono bravi i secchioni, i quali, così come gli sfigati, servono a noi che stiamo nel mezzo, a farci un’idea sul mondo che ci circonda. A farci un’idea sulle cose da fare.
Non mi sono stupito più di tanto quando ho saputo della sua nomina. Di sicuro più scontata e giusta la sua, di altre. La meniamo sempre con questi (pseudo)giovani che non hanno spazio, che non rivestono ruoli, e chi mai ci sarebbe dovuto andare a fare il viceministro? io?!
La sua uscita a molti ha ricordato quella di Padoa Schioppa ed a molti, forse giustamente, ha seccato anche di più. Padoa Schioppa era una sorta di genio, ma era un genio del medioevo. Se non erro, conobbe Leonardo (no, non il calciatore). Quando se ne uscì con la storia dei bamboccioni fu geniale e giusto. Raccontò quello che stava vedendo e lo fece con l’approccio di chi prova a moralizzare, ma non può più intervenire. L’allora ministro era già il Passato. Puntava il dito, ma il dito tremava.
Martone invece ha meno di 40 anni, sa quello che dice. Racconta quello che vede e può intervenire. Bravo Martone!
Si, bravo Martone, però poi c’è da scendere nel merito. Se i bamboccioni erano masse informi di trenta-quarantenni ammarati su divani ormai sfatti di case non più borghesi, ma tendenti al popolare. Divani maleodoranti e sformati da giornate intere di PlayStation, circondati da bottiglie di birra figlie della serata di Champions precedente, a volte usati per la copula selvaggia tanto “papà e mamma lavorano tutto il giorno”…se i bamboccioni, dicevo, erano ingiustificabili (e per questo si tentò in tutti i modi non di contraddire Padoa Schioppa, ma di dimostrare – sterilmente – che i bamboccioni, semplicemente non esistevano. Follia!), gli sfigati di Martone perché generano in noi più compassione? per la parola (che già bivacca nella top degli hashtag di twitter)? Sinceramente non credo basti questa spiegazione. “Sfigato” a volte è un termine che fa anche ridere. A volte…diciamo spesso.
La compassione, la rabbia e la scocciatura, di chi attacca Martone, derivano dal fatto che, in un modo o nell’altro, mentre bamboccioni potevamo non dirci tutti, sfigati lo siamo un po’ tutti, oggi. Chi più chi meno. Ed ecco le sirene.
Sarà questa barba alla Fehmiu, che mi ha procurato più di un piacevole paragone con l’Ulisse della Rai (la gente che frequento non sta bene) o sarà il bel brano che chiude l’ultimo capolavoro di Vinicio, che oggi mentre pensavo a questa cosa riascoltavo in macchina al ritorno dall’asilo. Ma per me, caro viceministro, il problema che dovrà affrontare, se vorrà dare seguito alla polemica di ieri (ed io credo che vorrà, perché anche Lei vive i tempi di Leonardo, il calciatore però), è il problema delle sirene.
Sono anni, decenni, che le generazioni di adolescenti, giovani, studenti, lavoratori sotto i quaranta, ascoltano ogni tipo di sirena. Le promesse, le distrazioni, le illusioni, il fumo negli occhi, i grandi programmi, le nuove visioni…tutte sirene per i ventenni, i trentenni, i quarantenni, dagli anni ’80 a oggi. Ulisse, si sa, si fece legare all’albero della nave per ascoltarle, ma resistere. Resistere perché Penelope valeva bene una così grande sofferenza, un così grande sacrificio, una così estenuante rinuncia.
Ma la Penelope di Ulisse era un buon motivo per non cedere. Per non lasciarsi andare. Per non comportarsi da sfigati.
Gentile viceministro, il problema è tutto qui. Sono troppi anni, è troppo tempo, che le nostre sirene sono molto meglio di Penelope.
Altro che Irene Papas!
P.S. Caro Michel Martone, se però ora non vuoi passare da sfigato pure tu, alimenta quotidianamente il tuo profilo twitter, oppure chiudilo. Aprirlo solo per twittare due precisazioni è da #sfigato.
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