Op-Ed: Anti-Italianx Bias? Professor Won’t Let Me Miss Prelim to See the Mario Movie

Mamma mia! Just as the Koopa Bowser always rises again to kidnap the innocent Princess Peach, so too does the dragon il racisme return to menace society’s most undeserving victims–the proud peopleof Italy. Like the volcanic ash settling on Pompeii, I have seen my hopes and dreams smothered under a dark cloud of anti-Italian bias. I am speaking of my professor’s decision that I cannot miss the CHEM 3240 exam in order to see the crowning accomplishment of Italian cinema, Il Movie di Fratellis Super Mario (dir. Horvath, 2023).

As a member of the Italian diaspora, Italy is near and dear to my heart. Ever since my great-great grandpa made the dreaded mistake of leaving the Madreland a century before I was born, I have considered myself spiritually tied to wherever the hell in Italy he was from. An Olive Garden, maybe? Every time I tell my friends they are culturally appropriative shitpigs for putting pineapple on pizza, I honor his blessed memory. So you see why it is so terribleissimo that I should be denied the right to see mia cultura on the big screen.

This Chrisoforo Prattini is a real paisan. The first time I heard him say “Mushroom kingdom, here we come,” I nearly creamy alfredo’d my pants. That fine cut of gabagool has done more for the Italian people than Antonio Vivaldi and Snooki combined. Watching the Mario movie–no, film–is easily a religious observation that should get me out of any exam, and my professor’s insistence that “I can’t just skip a prelim to watch a two hour Super Smash Bros trailer” especially when I’m “already failing the class” is proof of how deeply entrenched anti-Italy bias is entrenched in our society. Probably this was caused by watching The Godfather.

Much as Caesar was stabbed by his friend Brutus, I have been wronged by the liberal institution which was supposed to protect me. But I am a proud Italianx warrior. Like the soldiers of old before me, but not the soldiers of 1940-1943, I fight for the glory of Rome. My heart is fierier than my nonna’s arrabiata sauce. I will proudly wave the green, white, and red flag till death, so long as it’s actually the Italian flag and not the Mexican, Bulgarian, Welsh, Iranian, or Hungarian flag which all use the same colors. With my final breath, I shall chant the motto of the Italian people:

Hot ‘n’ Ready! Pizza pizza!

Like This!