Many things, but giving the best: because being multifaceted is a choice and not an excuse

Last night, on the stage of the Ariston Theatre, a man in an elegant dark suit moonwalks down Italy's most famous stairs. He doesn't stumble. Almost perfect. And before anyone can even decide what to think, he opens his mouth and says:

“Better to do many things badly than one well.”

Break.

Laughter.

And I, from the couch, did that thing I do when someone says something wrong in the most correct way possible: I nodded and laughed, then stopped laughing, then started nodding again. But this time for real.

The man who does not specialize

Lillo—real name Pasquale Petrolo, born in Rome in 1962—is one of those human beings who resist classification. A cartoonist first and foremost: in the 1980s, he drew strips for Roman publishing houses, wrote texts for Lupo Alberto, and invented absurd characters like Stinco & Laido and NormalMan. Then the publishing house closed, he and his friend Greg found themselves broke, and someone told him: "“Why don't you get on stage?”

They went up. And they never came down again.

From then on: comedy duo with Lillo & Greg, crazy rock band (Latte & i Suoi Derivati), Le Iene among the founders, radio on Rai Radio 2 with 610 since 2003, cinema, TV series, musicals — School of Rock, for which he won the Flaiano Award, on stage for over a year. And then Posaman, the series Sono Lillo, a new rock band (Lillo ei Vagabondi) founded in 2017 when the others were sitting down. And last night, on the stage at the Sanremo Festival, the moonwalk.

Which is a dance, yes. But also a metaphor. Move forward by looking back.

Why that sentence stopped me

Lillo says it with irony—and irony is his native language. But behind it lies an uncomfortable truth that many use as a shield: "“I do a lot of things, so expect it to hurt.”

It's an elegant form of protection. You declare your imperfection up front so no one can accuse you of hiding it. It's self-deprecation used as a lightning rod.

I understand that phrase. I recognize it. I've thought it too, at certain times when I found myself playing the musician in front of people who only do that, or writing about AI in front of people who only study that, or drawing comics without ever having attended comics school. There's a part of us that prepares for defeat so as not to feel its weight.

But then — and here's the point — that part lies.

My version

I would rewrite the sentence like this:

“It is better to do many things and give the best of yourself than to settle for only what comes out well on its own.”

This is not a correction to Lillo, let's be clear! He was joking, because HE KNOWS HE'S GOOD! (I think it's fantastic!). And the irony of a great comedian must be respected without being dismantled with a screwdriver. That's my statement. A manifesto, if we want to exaggerate. And here on the RickyVerso, things often go too far, so let's move on.

Doing many things isn't an excuse for mediocrity. It's not creative desperation disguised as versatility. It's a way of being in the world, an approach to existence that starts from the assumption that curiosity is as valuable as competence—and that, in most cases, curiosity becomes competence, if treated with respect.

The problem isn't the number of things you do. The problem is if you do them absentmindedly, without passion, already waiting for the next one. Because then, yes, you do them poorly. But not for lack of talent: for lack of presence.

Multifaceted is not a half compliment

In life there are two types of reaction to the word “multifaceted”.

The first: “How nice, you know how to do so many things!” —said with that slightly surprised tone that really means, “I didn’t expect that from you.”

The second: “Yes, but in the end, what do you really do?” —which is the honest version of the first, and which hides the real question: “Where do I classify you?”

The correct answer to both is the same: don't categorize me.

Lillo doesn't let himself be classified. I don't let myself be classified. The RickyVerso exists precisely because there isn't a genre that contains it: music. metal e Sanremo, generative AI, comic books, reflections on work, absurd stories, photography, technology. This isn't a blog searching for an identity. It's a blog that has decided that identity is precisely this—extent, handled with care.

And "with care" is the part that changes everything. Not "many things bad.". Lots of things, really.

The absurd as a compass

There's one last thing that ties me to Lillo, and it's perhaps the hardest to explain without sounding like a fanatic.

His penchant for the absurd.

When Carlo Conti interrupted him last night — “On stage? Maybe at the Teatro Olimpico?” — and the gag was about to explode on multiple levels at once (the joke, the meta-joke, the political quote from the Petrecca's gaffe at the Milan-Cortina Olympics), Lillo didn't chase the easiest laugh. He waited. He let the absurd breathe.

This is the true talent of the polymaths: not the number of things they can do, but the ability to connect worlds that seem distant and find the point where they laugh together.

A cartoonist who becomes a comedian who becomes a rock star who becomes an actor who moonwalks at the Ariston. A blogger who transforms into a musician and writes about AI and comics and metal and steel pipes and finds a common thread that not everyone immediately sees, but which is there.

We are the thread. Vastness is the method. Our best selves are the only standard worth living up to.

The rest—classifications, niches, specializations—is boredom disguised as seriousness.

Do many things. And don't be ashamed of them. Turn them into your identity!