Tuesday, May 17, 2022

Hipster Holocaust


Anna Feola walked into the Brooklyn Loaf to start her shift at 6 am. Just about five feet tall she was slim but shapely with dark brown hair with auburn highlights. Anna looked like an Italian neighborhood girl even though she came from Suffolk County. She fit right in on Court Street.

Anna was always one of the first employees at the store because she liked the first shift. First of all, it was always busy so she was always moving. Anna hated having to wait around with nothing to do. Best of all she got off early at 2 o’clock so she had the rest of the day to do whatever she wanted. She could take a class or go to an audition. Or even just help out the nice old Italian lady that was her landlord. She was like her Mom. Or more like the Grandmother that she had never had back home. Her family originally came from this neighborhood even though they had moved out to Long Island back in the sixties. Even so she felt a prosperity interest in the Italian culture that was fading away in the face of all the hedge fund managers and Wall Street aholes who were buying up the neighborhood. There were still a few pockets of the old Italian American Immigrant culture left and this coffee shop was one of them even though it was only about ten years old. It featured bagels and rolls and prepared sandwiches with coffee and tea. Not fancy like Starbucks but not as declassee as the Dunkin Donuts on the corner of First Place. It was sort of in-between. Just like Anna.

She started the coffees in the giant urns and Pepe brought up a couple of paper sacks filled with fresh hot bagels. She sorted them out and put them in the wire bins designated for each flavor with a little ceramic name plate attached to the front. Plain. Salt. Poppy. Sesame. Onion. Everything. A bin for everyone and a pile of hot steaming goodness. If only life could be like that.

People started drifting in. Moms on their way to PS 58 to drop off their little monsters. Nannies with their over privileged charges in super expensive strollers. A couple of in a hurry commuters who wanted to pick up something to take on the subway. The crowd grew and the line went out the door into the street. She poured the coffee and buttered the bagels and even had to serve the one section of tables against the wall. They were easy as they were usually her regulars. The same people every day.

One of them was an older Italian gentleman with hard eyes and pure white hair. He was always elegantly dressed in an expensive leather jacket and a silk shirt. He wore expensive custom-made shoes and had a Rolex on his wrist that was worth more than everything that was in the whole shop. He wore dark glasses inside and was very quiet. Occasionally someone from the neighborhood would come and whisper something in his ear. He would nod or make a gesture with his hand or very infrequently whisper something back. His order was always the same. A cup of espresso and a plate of Italian biscotti. He never varied it unless he wanted a short snort of anisette in his coffee. They kept a bottle behind the counter just for him. He was always very kind to her and there was always something mysterious about him. Anna didn’t know much about him and was sort of intrigued.

What she really didn’t know was that he was the real owner of the joint.

You see the Mob had gone into the bagel business in a big way in the 1980’s. What’s not to like? A cash business perfect for washing money. And you didn’t even have to lose money at it to boot. So bagel stores went up in Bensonhurst and Kew Gardens and Staten Island and Ozone Park. There were two in South Brooklyn that now had the Real Estate name of Carroll Gardens. One on Smith Street was controlled by the Columbo’s and was full of cowboys. They ran guns and drugs out of it and a bunch of them got pinched and put away on a Ricco charge. This one was much cleaner. They kept the drugs and the guns and gambling out of it. It was just bagels and a schmear.

At one time the cafes in the neighborhood had been part of the fabric of their existence. People would come in and sip an espresso and talk. It was a social thing. That’s why they were called social clubs. You knew everyone and everyone knew you. Now it was like the rest of New York. Anonymous and lonely. Sometimes people might know each other and nod before they became engrossed in their phones. But most of the time they just stared at their laptops or phones as though they could find the meaning of life.

He came in around eight this morning and sat in his usual seat. The second table from the front with his back to the wall. Anna hurried over with his order. “Good morning Mr. Aiello. Here is your breakfast. How are you feeling?” she chirped as she put down the plate. “Great sweetheart” he rasped with his heavy Brooklyn accent. “Just great. Can youse bring over the papers when you get a chance.” “Yessir right away.” ”Thank youse.”

When he asked for the papers, he only wanted the Post and the News. He never touched the Times or the Wall St Journal. Tabloids were all he read. Oh well the rest were there for all the pretentious noobs who came in and hit on her. But they wouldn’t be here for hours yet, so she was safe. Maybe she would have time to practice that song for the audition she was going to hit next week. She just hoped that Mrs. DiMartino would be okay with her singing the same song over and over for hours. What was she thinking? Of course, she would be fine with it. But she was going to bring her a bag of Italian cookies just to make sure.

She had learned her lessons well. She was morphing into a real neighborhood girl.

Hipster Holocaust

Detective Charlie McCarthy looked over the rail on the Carroll Street Bridge over the Gowanus Canal and spit while a thin drizzle fell on everything and bounced off the surface. A six-foot-tall pale Irishman he had the map of Ireland on his face. With the landmarks represented by the veins and broken blood vessels of a life spent with his gut pressed against a bar. He wore what he always wore. A cheap suit with a $5 tie from the bodega. One look at him and you said cop. Bad cop. Drunk cop. Dangerous cop. Not that he felt dangerous these days. Mostly he felt gassy.

A police diver fell backwards of the side of the police launch. And bounced. He had to cut a hole through the surface scum as though he was an ice fisherman freezing his balls off on a lake in Minnesota. How he was going to find anything was a mystery, but they still had to try. They had a report that there had been a jumper last night and some blood evidence on the rail that was enough for the shit heel captain to demand that they investigate.

His partner Julio Torrez walked up carrying two cups of coffee with the plastic tops attached. A slim slick Puerto Rica with a pencil thin mustache that went out of style in the fifties. He had a moderate fro and a decided limp from an old gunshot wound from the Red Hook Projects during the crack years. They had been partners for a long time. 

“Hey Dummy, what’s happening?” He handed over a coffee and they both ripped off a small piece of the top so they could sip the coffee while keeping the cover on to protect it from the rain. “Did they find anything or are we just jerking ourselves off here?”

“Nothing yet Beaner but they just started. How the fuck they gonna find anything in this shit is beyond my freaking understanding. I think that twat captain is just busting our balls with this shit.”

“I don’t know jefe. They said they had a witness. Some old biddy looking through her window. Said she saw some dude in a hoodie push a girl over the side.”

“How the fuck did she see that. There nearest house is half a block away. What the fuck does she have Xray fucking eyes?”

“Opera man.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Opera. What she was singing? You are one dumb Rican you know that.”

“Nah man she had Opera Glasses. She is one of the liberals that moved in. A fucking college professor or some such shit. She had a pair of Opera glasses and she looks out her window and writes down what she sees so she can call 411 to complain. Logged over 100 complaints so far this month. Only this time she called and got right through to the Captain.”

“Well how the fuck did she do that? What did they just put her through? What da fuck?”

“No dude her name is Karen Cohen. She went to summer camp with the Captain and shit. They probably licked each other like a lemon ice.”

“Great another Jew bag. I shoulda retired like my third wife told me too before she split. What a shit show.”


The diver burst though the scum blanket that cover the canal and not without effort. He was about five yards from the boat and was waving his hand. The boat putt putted over to him and they threw him a line. He went back down and everyone waited for a minute holding their breath. Too be fair everyone had been holding their breath the whole time since it smelled like the monkey house at the Prospect Park zoo. There was a series of tugs on the line and the two coppers in the boat started pulling up the line. They had caught something. A body. Covered in slime and debries. Pampers, plastic bags. Maybe a condom or three. They rolled the body into the skiff and waited for the diver to come up. When he did they pulled him in the boat. The maneuvered up to the bridge and the sergeant in the boat called up. “Hey Dummy we got a fresh one for ya. Wadda wanna us to do? Bring it to the dock or bring it over there to youse and you can take custody?” 

“Shit forensic is on the way and they need some space to work. Just bring it over to the dock in the back of the furniture warehouse on 9th. I’ll have these guys go over and take custody so they can bag her. No need to take it back to your shop. Thanks Flynn. Thanks a lot. Now I got another body on my tab. Fuck it never ends.”

The partners looked at each other and sighed in unison. “Let’s get over there and get this shit show on the road. Oh and give Captain Jew Bag a call and let her know we found a stiff. That will give her a lady hard on now that she is finally right about something.” “Ok Dummy I will call it in.”

They went to the unmarked Toyota and drove on to Third Avenue. This was really going to be a shit show. Cause the stiff looked white. And young. And a cooze. A shit show of the first water. Fuck. Some days it didn’t even pay to get up.


Friday, October 1, 2021

Thursday, September 30, 2021

Go down to Columbia Street to the pushcarts for Grandma.....


When I was a little kid I didn't just run around in the street and play stickball and scully. I had to do chores. Throw out the garbage. Go to the stores. I went all over the place even when I was in the second grade. When I was old enough to cross the street I was sent on errands all the time. My grandmother especially sent me out shopping. Why not when she was supposed to be in the second grade she was already working in a shirt making factory. So she didn't take any bullshit.

She would send me to Columbia Street where the push carts were. They had a bunch of stuff that came from the docks. Legal and otherwise. I had particular people I had to patronize. Friends of my uncles who made sure I didn't get ripped off.

I miss those days. Now I go to Stop and Shop.

Thursday, August 26, 2021

My meat is spoiled!


What Bugs Bunny used to say when he met a big shot when he was dressed as an Indian Swami. 

In an article in the New York Post it was announced that a salmonella outbreak has hit 17 states due to "Italian meats" that were infected  

“Italian-style meats include salami, prosciutto and other meats that can often be found in antipasto or charcuterie assortments. Heating food to a high enough temperature helps kill germs like Salmonella,”

They recommend heating the meat to a temperature of 165 degrees or until they are steaming hot. Which would most likely ruin the meat but what do they care. I eat this type of meat every day and have not had any bad side effects. I think it is the typical nonsense purveyed by the government I bet they want you to wear a mask when you are eating a salami sandwich.

However that is not the truly disturbing news in this article. "This past May, the CDC warned poultry farmers to stop hugging their chickens as it led to a salmonella outbreak. Don’t kiss or snuggle backyard poultry, and don’t eat or drink around them,” the CDC explained at the time. This can spread Salmonella germs to your mouth and make you sick.”

Rh Hardin hardest hit.

RIP Rod Gilbert


Rod Gilbert who was the greatest Ranger of all time has passed. There might be bigger stars who played for the Rangers like Mark Messier and Wayne Gretzky. But for a hockey fan of a certain age like me it was all about the great Rod Gilbert.

When I was kid in the sixties there were only a few hockey teams. So you could follow the sport in between watching football and baseball. The Rangers had a decent team. They had the great goalie Eddie Giacomin and his back up Gilles Villemure. The hard nosed Vic Hadfield. The always elegant Jean Ratelle. Glen Stather and Pete Stemkowski. The unpronounceable Walt Tkaczuk. All the flotsam and jetsom that Marv Albert would talk about when the Rangers played. I went to a couple dozen games in those days. Tickets were not hard to get. The Rangers were often out of contention. But they still were a lot of fun.

Rod lived to be 80. He had a good run. He was always a very classy guy. Never a scandal or a bad word. The kind of guy people would point to as a role model. I always really admired him and I thought of him as Mr. Ranger.

RIP Rod. You did good.

Jibber jabber get the jab you douche nozzle.


Well I finally bit the bullet and got the jab. I waited until they worked most of the kinks out. We went fot the Johnson and Johnson since it was only one needle and we were told by our doctor that it had the least side effects and were the best for anyone who had an allegry.

Now there is no way I was going to a CVS where some clerk would take time out from sticking his finger up his nose to give a shot. The hospital had set up an injection site about four blocks from me across the road from the hospital so if something went wrong we could be at the emergency room toot suite. There were several nurses and a doctor around so there was full coverage.

We went into a cubicle and met the nurse who was giving out the dose. She said "What arm do you want it in?" I replied "Yours."

That didn't work so I got the jab. We hung around for half an hour to see if there was any adverse reactions. Nothing happened so we left.

Funny enough there was a new diner across the street so we decided to have lunch. I got what I always get when I go to a diner.

Meatloaf and mashed potato. It was just ok. The gravy was a little to sweet for my taste. The whole diner was trying to do an upscale thing and it was a little much. I like a down and dirty diner and this wasn't it. It was better than nothing but not be much.

Now I am waiting for the adverse reaction.

From the meatloaf.

Wednesday, May 19, 2021

The Case of the Disappearing Salon


 My dear Holmes,

It is your most humble petitioner, Inspector Lestrade. As you well know it has been many years since I have last requested your assistance in the troubling matter of the disappearance of Lord Douchebag and also quite some time since we examined the obscene affairs of the odious Lady Chatterley and her grass stained lover. Today I must ask for assistance with respect to these horrible people.

As you know we often review old case files in an attempt to discern if circumstances have changed or new information has come to light. It seems a remarkable transformation has occurred in the salon of the noxious Lady Chatterley. She has closed her salon and banished all the many miscreants out into polite society. These poor unfortunates who are barely literate and in need of our succor and understanding were left wandering the streets in search of some other false deity to flagellate them and torture their benighted souls. Bereft of the solace of their common herd they are bewildered and lost. I have no understanding as to why they were expunged except that the syphilitic psychoses of their host must finally have reached it's zenith. They could no longer cover it up and so had to loose their misbegotten acolytes on to our society. 
Pray tell have you any news about this most unusual occurrence? Perhaps one of your irregulars might have some insight as they are well acquainted with the dregs of society where these poor unfortunates dwell. The Yard has called upon me to prepare for any new vile plans that this most despicable couple might be planning. I am most desirous of your council and advice.

Please give my best to your brother Mycroft who I now recall has moved to countryside of Yorkshire to work on his art and his continuing acts of charity. I know that he felt moving to the country would be salubrious and conducive to his health. I hope his work with young orphan boys will assuage his loneliness and allow him to live a fulfilling and happy existence. 

I remain as always,
Your obedient servant,
Inspector G. Lestrade
November 12, 1898

Monday, May 10, 2021

The Eyes have it


So not only am I hurting by falling down and bashing my leg and my shoulder....my eye blew up!

I have a sty and I look like Chuck Wepner. Which I was very surprised when the young doctor in the Urgent Care knew who I was talking about.

Anyhoo it was itchy and painful but I got some medicine so it is under control.

It sucks getting old.

Tuesday, April 6, 2021

Trooper York's word of the Day



  1. lack of equality or justice.
    "he protested at the unfairness of the tribunal's procedure"

Oh the Humanity

Tuesday, April 6, 2021

"Oh the Humanity"

"We are here in Madison Wisconsin on a rainy Easter Sunday. Many people are in church and others who have just finished two boxes full of wine last night have not stopped throwing up yet. Alcoholics always have trouble on holiday. The enormous gas bag is approaching the docking area as the usual group of fan boys and lickspittles applaud. 
It's starting to rain again; it's... the rain had (oh) slacked up a little bit. The back motors of the ship are just holding it (uh) just enough to keep it from...It's burst into flames!
Get this, Charlie; get this, Charlie! It's fire... and it's crashing! It's crashing terrible! Oh, my! Get out of the way, please! It's burning and bursting into flames and the... and it's falling on the mooring mast. And all the folks agree that this is terrible; this is the worst of the worst catastrophes in the world. Oh it's... [unintelligible] its flames... Crashing, oh! Four- or five-hundred feet into the sky and it... it's a terrific crash, ladies and gentlemen. It's smoke, and it's in flames now; and the frame is crashing to the ground, not quite to the mooring mast. Oh, the humanity!
 And all the passengers screaming around here. Look they are running and screaming and lamenting what will they do without this gasbag.
I told you; it – I can't even talk to people, their friends are on there! Ah! It's... it... it's a... ah! I... I can't talk, ladies and gentlemen. Honest: it's just laying there, mass of smoking wreckage. Ah! And everybody can hardly breathe and talk and the screaming, lady, I... I... I'm sorry. Honest: I... I can hardly breathe. I... I'm going to step inside, where I cannot see it. Charlie, that's terrible. Ah, ah... I can't, I... Listen, folks; I... I'm gonna have to stop for a minute because I've lost my voice. 
This is the worst thing I've ever witnessed."

Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Trooper York's Word of the Day


Schrö·ding·er's cat

/SHrōdiNGərz ˈkat,SHrā-/
  1. a cat imagined as being enclosed in a box with a radioactive source and a poison that will be released when the source (unpredictably) emits radiation, the cat being considered (according to quantum mechanics) to be simultaneously both dead and alive until the box is opened and the cat observed.
    "the talk promises to demystify all the secrets of quantum physics, including Schrödinger's cat, Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, and parallel universe

Schroder's cat

Ann Romano's pussy

Cara Dune kicks ass


 Do youse guys know who Gina Carano is? She plays Cara Dune the tough no nonsense mercenary in the Mandalorian the Star Wars TV show that brought so many alienated fans back to the franchise. She is a former MMA fighter and is as tough as nails while still being a pretty hot chick. If you like chicks that can beat the shit out of you.

Anywho the soy boys and lesbian feminists in charge of Lucasfilms fired her for her conservative tweets. The last straw was when she said the Nazi's didn't start out killing the Jews they started by turning the population against them by using the media and the force of public opinion to make them the "Other." Sort of what the Fake News and the Democrat Socialist are doing to Trump supporters. They proved her point by dropping her form the series. Now there has been a campaign for a while to defenestrate her because of her other conservative tweets but she was protected the Jon Faveau who is a closet Republican but who I guess couldn't protect her anymore.

Gina is the real deal. I hope she can create a show using alternative media they way other conservative actors have been able to do. She is just too threatening to the liberals. A smart strong woman who has ideas of her own and doesn't buy into the conventional wisdom. They prefer to celebrate and employ rapist and child molesters who are the majority of the people in Hollywood. 

I  will be on the look out for you Gina. God Speed,

Panda Sex with Charles Bukowski


 at one stage in my life

I met a man who claimed to have
visited Pound at St. Elizabeth's.

then I met a woman who not only
claimed to have visited
but also to have made love
to him—she even showed
certain sections in the
where Ezra was supposed to have

so there was this man and
this woman
and the woman told me
that Pound had never
mentioned a visit from this
and the man claimed that the
lady had had nothing to do
with the
that she was a

and since I wasn't a
Poundian scholar
I didn't know who to
but one thing I do
know: when a man is
many claim relationships
that are hardly
and after he dies, well,
then it's everybody's

my guess is that Pound
knew neither the lady or the

or if he knew
or if he knew

it was a shameful waste of

Marilyn's Diary


Everyone in my family loved to read. We didn't own a television in those days so we had to find our own amusements instead of sitting in front of the boob tube all the time. So we would read. Sometimes one of us would read to the family. Usually fiction but every once in a while we would enjoy some non-fiction like "Frankenstein"  or "Dracula." In fact Grandpa knew Count Dracula from the old days back in the Old Country. He said the Bela Lugosi version was the best. He really captured Vlad. He was a snot.

We really valued books and reading. So when some jerks in the John Birch Society decided to burn some books Grandpa and Uncle Herman went down to set them straight. Grandpa sliced a couple of them up by biting them. Some of them on the neck. Some of them on other parts. Uncle Herman lumbered around and scared the shit out of them. They stopped that book burning in it's tracks. Because that's how it started. First book burning. Then the next thing you know they start going after the Jews. We couldn't stand by when that went on. First they come for the Jews. The next thing you know they will come for the vampires.

When they came home we were all overjoyed. They were our heroes. Of course they didn't have anything to do. We didn't have the boob tube.

So I let Uncle Herman stare at my boobs.

Then he would lick and suck them.

I loved my Uncle Herman.

The Summer of Boo Boo


We were always wary of the campers in the summer time. I mean they were a bunch of weirdoes and all. Who comes to the woods to live in a tent when you can go to the beach and sip Mai Tais? Still and all there were repeat visitors who had to come to upstate New York to go camping because they were too poor to go to the Hamptons or the Jersey Shore. At least there weren't a lot of Jews because they were all in the Catskills with Mrs. Masiel.  Mostly there were Italians and Irish and a few Pollacks.

In particular there was this one Italian family that were very scary. The father was a craggy faced sour puss who liked to lecture everyone. The mother was half a retard because all she did was waltz around all over the place like she was an Australian or something.

The worst were the two sons. One was a real dummy who pretended he was Roger Grimsby or something since he was always trying to interview you. Maybe somebody should take him fishing and not bring him back.  It was the older one who was very creepy. He kept bothering sister bear. He would tell her how big his hands were and asked if she would date ten year olds. 

Then he started touching her. On her bear skin so to speak. He was a creepy rapist

I always wondered what happened to him, I heard he went into politics.

(Stan and Jan Berenstain "Son of Boo Boo", The E True Hollywood Story of the Berenstain Bears)

Not at this time


John Glenn was a lousy politician but he did say one thing in his life that made sense. When they asked him how he felt about sitting in his rocket ship about to blast off he said: I felt exactly how you would feel if you were getting ready to launch and knew you were sitting on top of 2 million parts — all built by the lowest bidder."

So yesterday I get a call from my doctor to tell me he has the vaccine and I am eligible because of my age and my underlying condition. He asked if I wanted the shot. I said not at this time. He asked me why. I said "That shot is made by Johnson and Johnson. You know who owns Johnson and Johnson. The guy who owns the Jets. Why would I ever take a shot from the guy who owns the Jets?"

He couldn't disagree.

This shot is very dangerous. It killed Marvin Hagler. The guy got hit in the face for ninety rounds by angry moolies and didn't have a mark on him. One needle and he is dead.

Closer to home my 82 year old mother-in-law took the shot. Ten days later she had a mini stroke. Coincidence? I think not. We know a school teacher who took the shot and ten days later dropped dead. I bet there are thousands of cases like that which are being covered up by the media and the government. I don't know if I will ever be able to travel again if I don't get the shot but I am going to stick it out as long as I can.

When Mom was in the hospital they only allowed one visitor at a time. When it was my turn I told her a story about strokes. You see there were these three old ladies sitting on a bench at a park in Florida. A guy wearing a raincoat comes up and opens it up and he is naked and his pisca deal is hanging out. The first lady had a stroke. The second lady had a stroke. But the third lady didn't have a stroke. You know why?

Her arms were too short.

Sunday, December 20, 2020

Stop staring at my tits


"When you get to the cutoff.....cut off your Slawson."

"Oooh that sounds painful."

"Shut up and stick out your tits."

"Ok I can do that."

"Don't be a wiseass."

Thursday, June 18, 2020

Diamonds are a girls best friend


Toot’s Shor's Saloon, October  28, 1959 (Joe DiMaggio walks into Toots Shore’s saloon, what he doesn’t know is that his ex wife Marilyn Monroe is sitting in the back)
Toots: Hey Joe, how ya doing….ah…Marilyn’s here…in the back… again ….just so you know.
Joe DiMaggio:
Toots: She’s in the back with some French faggot that she is making a movie with.  I don’t want no trouble Joe, not like the last couple of times, can you try it keep it friendly. …. why don’t you just go up and say hello. (Joe brushes by him without a word and walks to the back to say hello and stands in front of her table)
Marilyn: (stands up and kisses Joe on the Cheek and says in a breathy sexy voice) Hi Joe. Did you miss me? This is my friend Yves. He’s French. We made a movie together. Sit down and have a drink with us. (Marilyn sits down opposite Joe, and as she does her legs are really open. She is definitely not wearing any underwear, but she does seem a little worse for wear and she smells like a tuna fish sandwich left out in the sun)
Yves Montand: Bonjour Mr. Dimaggio. (Yves sticks out his hand and Joe looks at it. He ignores it like it was a dead fish. Humiliated the Frenchmen sits down and pulls out a cigarette)
Joe DiMaggio:
Toots: Of course he missed ya kid.
Marilyn: So Joe. How have you been? Have you been seeing anybody lately? Yves and me have been having sex Joe. Lots of sex. You know he even knocked me up. That’s right. He got me pregnant. You couldn’t do that with your useless guinea needle dick.
Joe DiMaggio:
Toots: You can’t say that keed. Whaz da matta with you. You want Joe to pulverize this frenchy? (Yves Montard is not following the conversation too well. He just know the energy is bad. So he makes like a mime)
Marilyn: Shut up Toots. Joe needs to know what a useless fuck he is. Everybody thinks I am crazy. I know I am just fine. Joe divorced me because I couldn’t give him a baby. And that I fucked everyone. But that wasn’t my fault. That was how you get a job in Hollywood.
Joe DiMaggio:
oots: Don't talk like that Keed. Joe don't want to hear this shit. You life is your life but he don't wanna hear this. Show some respect.
Marilyn: Show some respect? What are you talking about you stupid Kike bastard. Nobody shows me any fucking respect. I am just a fuck toy. They just want to fuck me. And you know what Joe? Yves treats me right. He loves me Joe. Not like you. Even though I lost the baby he still comes around. Not like you you guinea fuck.
(Yves get more and more perturbed as Marilyn gets more excited. He puts his hand on her leg and she swats it away. Joe looks at that and his eyes narrow. Yves starts to sweat like there were Germans in the room)
Toots: Ok keed, you poor dumb snatch don’t get excited.
Marilyn: You believe me Joe, don’t you? You believe me when I tell you that you were just one among many of the nasty pricks I had to swallow. I fucked them all. I sucked them all.  But only Yves could give me a baby. YOU COULDN'T DO THAT COULD YOU?  WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THAT YOU GUINEA COCKSUCKER. (Marilyn red faced and frantic suddenly flips from manic to depressed as she continually queefs out to the tune of La Mareillaise)
Joe DiMaggio:
Marilyn:  Still nothing to say…well screw you…you sad guinea motherfucker (Marilyn throws her drink at Joe in a half-hearted way, picks up her purse grabs Yves hand and they storm out of the saloon)
Toots Shor: What a crazy broad man, forget about her Joe. Here's a towel.
Joe DiMaggio: Get me Frankie Carbo on the blower. Right now.
Toots Shor: Joe com'on you don't want to do that. That fanoik is a big deal actor. You can’t touch him.