When I was a kid, in the eighties, whenever I asked my mother to buy me something (being a kid and being the eighties, I did ask quite often) she used to answer, in her typical judgmental and radical-chic fashion: “You’re always thinking about buying things, you Reagan-lover hedonist”.

I was six years old and apparently had already taken a clear political stand.

Other times, when I hit my brother (another recurrent event), she invariably reproached me: “Fascist!”.

Yep, my family really took to an extreme level the sixties motto “the personal is political”. So much for positively guiding your offspring to do the right thing. I grew up feeling responsible for the Contras and the Jews deportation. Continue reading “A personal digression. How I stopped being a totalitarian consumerist and joined the Afghan war”

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