My Italian true love is weeping.

My Italian true love is going to the polls today. To vote. In the Italian election for parliament. And to pick the new prime minister. She doesn’t relish the choices. Knowing full well that no party will get a majority. And that no matter which parties form a ruling coalition, Italy will remain in political chaos.  Perhaps forever. That’s the cursed fate of Italians. They are condemned to live with some of the worst functioning politicians in the world. Usually, Italians end up with a comedian or buffoon as prime minister. Maybe that speaks well for many Italians. Because they want to laugh from their perch in political hell. Might as well. Sure beats crying. My true love, however, is one of those not laughing. She’s downright angry. She wants a revolution. A shake-up. A new Italian politic. But she’s a realist. Knowing it won’t happen. So she’s despondent. And I’m here to try to cheer her up. I tell her we Americans have survived eight years of George Bush. And scary Republicans such as Sarah Palin and Mitt Romney. But my true love counters that we’ve never experienced Silvio Berlusconi. The billionaire buffoon with a chance to become prime minister for the fourth time. Come now, I tell my true love. Learn to laugh. But she ain’t laughing on the trek to the polls. She’s weeping.  –Jim Broede