What will you be watching on New Years Eve

We are not going out tonight. I don't feel well enough and we are pretty tired anyway. The last few years we either had people over or we went to a friends house for New Years Eve. We didn't go out much anymore.

One year we did get all dressed up. I put on a tux and Lisa got a great dress and we went to the "Campbell Apartment" which is this great bar in Grand Central Station. They had a full orchestra who played swing music with a great Frank Sinatra Impersonator guy. It was a lot of fun. Then we went to Times Square and hit a few joints I did the taxes for until the wee hours. But that is too much for us now.

What really sucks is that I can't have my normal New Year feast of pigs in a blanket and salt covered Tater Tots. I am really going to miss them this year.

I hope you guys have fun tonight and stay safe.

Happy New Year!

Problems of a shopkeeper

We decided to be open on Monday and Tuesday before New Years because we didn't want to be closed four days in a row. We had a surprisingly good day on Monday. Except for the nanny problem.

You see sometimes nannies come in to shop and they are always a problem. They usually have a couple of kids in tow who run wild because the nannies can't control them at the best of times and when they are trying on clothes they really don't give a shit.

Well yesterday we had two dressing rooms going with destination shoppers who were spending. So the wife had to pay attention to them. I had to deal with everything else. So when this nanny came in I helped her find a dress for New Years. She was there for two hours while the nasty kids talked and ran around and acted like little entitled assholes. Now as a Man I can't correct them. I don't want to get arrested. So the wife had to talk sternly to them a few times. I wanted to simply talk some sense to them. "Look kids your parents don't love you. That  is why they leave you in the hands of an illegal immigrant for sixty hours a week. They would rather be at the office shuffling papers than wiping you snot faced noses and listening to your bullshit. Oh and you were adopted. Your real parents hated you even more. So sit down and wait till you get old enough to take drugs to take the edge off your useless unhappy lives."

But the wife wouldn't let me do that.

I never get  to have any fun.

Everybody is just a racist

It's funny how the racist label gets thrown around. An case in point is the effect on two reality TV stars. Phil Robertson on the Duck show and Brandi Glanville on the "Real Housewives of Beverly Hills."

Now Phil said some stuff about blacks being happy picking cotton in the old days when he did it with them when he was poor. He said that they had religion and family and weren't all crazy like things are now with the violence and the unwed baby momma's and what not. He got raked over the coals pretty good but A&E backed down as you know and he weathered the storm just fine.

Brandi on the other hand made some mild racial comments and as someone on one of the blogs said "The Frankenbrandi is out of control and the villagers are gathering torches and pitchforks." One joke was about the Puerto Rican Joyce Giraud who didn't want to get into the pool when they were on vacation. Brandi said "Oh you are like a black person." Then at a dinner party she told the bartended "Give a drink before I kill a Puerto Rican." Now with jokes like this context is everything. If you are friends with the person they will laugh and it is no big deal. But if you are beefing you can expect this to be a full blown NAACP event with commentary from all the liberal douches. I personally can't stand Brandi. She is like every drunk whore I used to run into in the 1980's. Give her a line and you could bang her in every fucking hole that she has. With people like that you just don't pay attention. But right now she is going to go through a full blown media crucifixion. It almost makes her sympathetic.

Almost.

That tampon thing is hard to forget.

New Years Resolutions!

I need to be more generous. I need to stop mocking people who have addictions and psychological problems even when they start shit with me.  They are sick after all and the joy you get in mocking them is not worth it. It is like stealing an ice cream cone from a retard.

This is very hard for me because I love to mix it up. But it really gets to be a situation of diminishing returns.

When I used to bounce around the bar scene I was often the biggest guy in the bar. Some little shrimp would always want to come over and start something. I had to learn how to defuse the situation without getting in a meaningless beef where people wanted to throw down. Who knows if the guy had a gat or a blade in his back pocket.  Because even the smallest opponent can hurt you badly. It is just not worth it.

Let the drunk wallow in their cups and move on to another joint.

I don't know if that is generous or not but it is a smart thing to do.

New Year's Resolutions!

I need to be happy for people when good things happen to them. Jealousy is bad for your health. I mean not everything about my "team" is always the best.

With that in mind I would like to congratulate Aaron Rodgers on his recent achievements. What a great "job" so to speak.

This article highlights the great things that Aaron has been doing this season.

Soon it will be the only thing that football fans will be talking about.

(special thanks to Nick for alerting me to this great article)

New Years Resolutions

I have already started with some of my resolutions for the New Year.

One of them is to stop fighting with people. Like Crack. It is not only boring but you can never reach someone that far gone. You need to let 'em be. Worry about your own problems. Let them stew in their own juices.

A Poem by MamaM

Estrange it is
When weddings and divorce,
High honors and engagements,
Arrivals, deaths and other moving experiences,
Cannot be mentioned,
Much less noted or grieved
Shared or celebrated
In anything more than isolation.
Sequestered yet a part.

When body and blood
Cannot bridge an abyss
Such as this to eat,
Drink and commune,
Spirit is all that is left
To remember and believe
In gifts received,
And grace extended.

When outer entry doors
Are closed and barred
And shuttered windows
Block what light remains
Then memories kept inside
Glow in the dark alone
As death and Alzheimer’s
Grow pale in comparison.

When the distance
From all that is life
Becomes too great
For truth to flourish
And grace to grow
While we yet have choice
Where else is there
To go, but You?

Whose that girl with the wood between her legs

She would fit in a Tarrantino movie because the few flicks she made were kind of classic. Not named Martin but would fit in with that nomenclature she was a bad penny that ended up in a few cool movies.

She quit though and nobody knows what happened to her.

Whose that girl?

Greetings from 1965

This was a photo that I love from my uncles wake. It shows the whole family. Grandma is in the middle. Uncle V is on one side and Aunt Rosie is on the other. My Uncle Angelo is directly above Grandma with his wife Aunt Marie.

That handsome Irishman is my Da who is standing behind Laverne DeFazio.

The Case of the Hebraic Hesitation

My dear Holmes,

It is your most humble petitioner, Inspector Lestrade. It has been quite some time since I have last requested your assistance in the troubling matter of the disappearance
of Lord Douchebag and the obscene affairs of the odious Lady Chatterley and her grass stained lover. Today I must ask for assistance in an entirely different matter.

We here at the Yard are well aware of the secret work you brother Mycroft does with the Foreign office. It is the reason we have not inquired too closely into the comings and goings of various swarthy sepoy’s and tattooed lascars in his rooms at the club. However a recent difficulty with certain foreign powers has caused some concern with my superiors and I would like to address them with you.

It seems that your brother has obtained a strange and perverted friendship with a young baker who has an establishment strangely enough right on Baker’s Street. It is not inconceivable that your brother might conceive a friendship with a tradesman. What is strange is that this tradesman is in fact a woman. We are well aware of Mr. Mycroft Holmes affinity for snack cakes and pastries but in all of our experience we have yet to see him attempt social intercourse with a member of the opposite sex. This of course led to some interest from my superiors if only because of the secrets entrusted to his care.

It seems that this hoyden has tempted your brother with delicious snack cakes and pastries to such a degree that he is passing some state secrets that were best kept in the confines of the Foreign office. Our investigation has shown that he might not even be aware of this but that his greed for tasty sugary treats has loosened not only his considerable bowels but his tongue as well.

As I am sure you are aware the Foreign office has been in negotiation with the Sultan of Araby regarding some mining concessions and coaling stations on the coast of Persia. This exotic and secretive land has long been a source of contention among the great powers. Now it seems they have resources that her Majesty’s government must access in the most expeditious manner possible. However the internal affairs of this despotic pesthole have precluded direct discussions.  It seems the attacks and murders of their Hebrew citizens have been so scandalous that Prime Minister Disraeli has refused to negotiate with them. This would seem to stem from the fact that Dizzy is in fact a Hebrew but it also can be ascribed to the barbarous behavior of these carpet fanciers. Negotiations have stalled.

Your brother has been the one voice who has stood firm against the Prime Minister in this matter. I have been charged with determining whether this is his own belief or the influence of his new friend. It seems this baker has some animus towards those of the Hebraic persuasion and might unduly influence your brother by withholding her tasty treats as it were. I would ask for your indulgence in this matter and your assistance in getting to the bottom of this matter.

As an aside with regards to bottoms you might assure your brother that we have hushed up the recent incident that he was involved with at the orphanage.  He will of course have to accept the fact that he will not be able to foster the young untouchable that he had wanted to adopt from the slums of Delhi. This issue is closed and should not factor into your discussion regarding the Persians and the Jews.

My best to Doctor Watson and I hope he is recovered from his recent bout with pink eye. When last I saw him he was squinting to such a degree that I ventured to jest that he had begun to resemble a Chinese woman. Please assure him that was not in fact an allusion to the size of his breasts. We all increase in weight as we age. I trust he will forgive my impertinence and join you in your efforts in this matter.

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

It's de Blasio Time!

This is one of the videos of the fights at the mall on Thursday December 26th 2013.

It's de Blasio time!

On the day after Christmas a "flash mob" of disadvantaged "youtes" went on a rampage at the Kings Plaza Mall in Brooklyn. 400 teens mobbed the mall as a false rumor of a concert by the rapper "Fabolous" which pissed them off. So they proceded to loot and fight and attack stores and security guards.

As an added bonus a group of said youtes started playing "The Knockout Game" on the second floor of the mall. Macy's and Victoria's Secret and a few other big retailers in the mall just put down their metal gates like they were a castle being stormed by orcs. The smaller stands  and stores were picked clean especially if they didn't have their own security. The stores like "Best Buy" with security were forced into pitched battle to contain the madness.

The key part to the story is this. No arrests were made. Lots of damage to property and theft. Lot's of money lost by businesses who had to close their doors. Innocent people terrorized. But no arrests were made.

Why is that?

Seriously?

God bless you Uncle V

The funeral for my Uncle V was  beautiful. Held at our old parish Sacred Hearts and St Stephens. I had switched over to St Mary's Star of the Sea so I had not been in my original parish for quite a while. Everyone was impressed with how beautiful it is. The statues and  Christmas decorations were wonderful.

The new pastor is a very good man. He came to the wake last night and instead of just reading a prayer and running out he started a dialogue were everyone got to share their memories of my Uncle. My brother and my cousin Anthony did a great job leading the discussion. I was too out of it as my fib was acting up because of the stress. My brother Michael did a great job handling everything and he gave a superb eulogy  at the funeral mass today. He touched all the bases. How Uncle V sold shopping bags and shined shoes during the Depression to feed his family. His service in the Navy in World War 2. His work on the docks for forty years as a longshoreman. His devotion to his nieces and nephews. His generosity and love for all of us.

God bless you Uncle V. I now when you get up to the pearly gates you going to turn to St. Peter and say "Hey fella is this were I go in" and that other famous fisherman will say "Come right in Uncle V we were waiting for you."

Teach a Man to Fish

My Uncle V always loved to take us fishing. He would load up his Chrysler Newport with my cousins and me. A bunch of fishing poles. A cooler. Lunch that Grandma made. Sausage Hero's. Meatball heroes. Olives and pickled eggplant.

We would leave at about four thirty in the morning. Drive all the way out to Orient Point on Long Island. It took about three hours. So we got there after people had already gone out for two hours. We would get a box of skimmers which were very cheap clams to use as bait. A box of blood worms. A big piece of squid to cut up for fluke bait.

My uncle had his own out board motor.  We would attach it to the back of skiff that we would attach the motor. Put all our stuff in and go out into Peconic Bay.

We would rig up for porgies and fluke. Two hooks below and one long stringer higher up for fluke.

The thing about porgies is when you hit a school you almost didn't have to bait the hook. You could pull them up two at a time. We would often catch a hundred fish at a time. Now in those days they didn't check you cooler so you could keep some of the small fish. Not two small but still pretty edible.

Then we would drive all the way home on the LIE which could take four hours or more. With the smell of fish in the cooler. Now there is one problem when you caught all that fish. You had to clean all that fish. So when we pulled up and parked on Henry St in front of my Grandma's house we would unload. All the old timer's on the block would sidle up to find out what we caught. My uncle would wheel and deal. He would give a couple or three fish to each of the guys. They would reciprocate with a bottle of home made wine or fresh tomatoes from their garden. It was share and share alike.

That Brooklyn is long gone. The yuppie scumbags would report you to the EPA for the fish smell or to PETA for killing the fish.

You can't go home again.

Back in the Day you could say Merry Christmas.

I taped all of the Christmas episodes that recently aired on METV. Doris Day. Adam12. Emergency. Gunsmoke. Bonanza. I Love Lucy. The Odd Couple. The Honeymooners.

You know what was odd? They could all say Merry Christmas. In fact in the "Doris Day Show" she turned to the camera and wished everyone a  Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

If she did that today she would be suspended. Or fired. No matter how popular she was or how good the ratings.

America has really lost it's way.

Joey Gallo's Lament

It was impossible to concentrate that afternoon in school. I had a million questions. Was Joey jammed up? Why did he give me the package? What would it mean if my Da found out? Were Connie’s tits real or did she stuff tissue in her bra?

I confess I thought about the last one all the time.

Finally the bell rang and we all piled out of the school yard onto Strong place. Some of the guys wanted to choose up a fistball game but I wasn’t into it today. I went over to Tony’s candy store to grab a Yohoo and a Swiss Roll. It was my after school ritual. A chocolate drink and a big snack cake. I had a cast iron stomach in those days and people didn’t treat sugar like heroin. I gobbled it down as I walked down Degraw St. and turned onto Henry St. I said hello to all of the old ladies sweeping the front of their houses.  Louie Nerve passed by shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs. Today everyone would know that he had Tourette’s syndrome but in those days we just thought that he was fucked up.

I finally got to my Grandma’s and ran up the stoop to her parlor floor apartment. The door was open. The doors were always open in those days. You weren’t afraid of getting robbed. Of course the Mafia ran things in those days not Nanny Bloomberg.  

I went inside and Grandma was making sausages.  So I threw my school books on the floor. Took off my blazer and rolled up my sleeves.

You see I always helped Grandma cook. She was always preparing fresh Italian delicacies for my uncles who were longshoremen. They worked long hours and were able to come home for lunch and dinner since the docks were only three or four blocks away. Grandma always made fresh food for them. Fresh homemade pasta. Homemade sausage and salami. Her pickled eggplant that everyone loved. I was the only half Irish knucklehead who could cook like he was born in Ischia.

“Jamesy getta the mixing bowl. You can mix the sausage meat.” She had attached the sausage grinder to the side of the table. It locked like a carpenters vise and was just as powerful. She attached the sausage casing. I mixed up the pork, chopped fennel, provolone cheese, garlic and the white wine that I mixed together in a big busta-choata. Then came the fun part. I got to turn the crank as I fed the mixture into the top of the grinder. Grandma made sure it filled the casing and would expertly twist each sausage individually. After about six sausages were prepared she would cut the casing and then tie each one individually into a link that she would put into the fridge to cool.

“Grandma I think I might of got in trouble today.’ “What-a you do Jamesy?” “I was in the panele store and I ended up talking to Joey Gallo. Please don’t tell my Da.” “I won’t tell him but you need to stay away from that bum. He is no good. Don’t get in trouble with those gavones. Capisce?” “Yes Grandma. He caught me by surprise.” “Thats-a-good. Now go wash up and I make you a plate.”

Food always made stuff better. Grandma’s know that.

Goodbye Uncle V

My Uncle V passed away on Christmas Eve. He has been very sick the past ten years. He had Alzheimer's and did not recognize anyone for the last few years.

He was a life long bachelor. I think women scared him. Think of "Marty" from the 1950's movie starring Ernst Borgnine. He spent his time with all of his nieces and nephews. He took us to the gym. Took us fishing out to the Long Island Sound. Took us to the racetrack and taught us how to bet an exacta.

He was a longshoreman his whole life. He worked on the docks and went through all of the stuff you saw in "On the Waterfront." Many of his stories will make it into some of my writing as I try to put stuff in words that have been bouncing around in my head.

He lived with his Mom in the house that my Dad bought. He took care of her for ten years while she had Alzheimer's. My mother helped him as they cared for her at home.

I will miss him every day. The wake is tomorrow and the funeral is on Saturday.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of you who spend some of their precious time here at "Trooper York."

It has been a tough couple of months here and we are going to have a lot of changes in the new year. But with faith and love you will always come out right in the end.

I wasn't really up to traveling this year so we spent Christmas day with my best friend and his wife in Park Slope. We had a wonderful Christmas dinner of roast pork and fingerling potatoes with asparagus and a mushroom/sausage stuffing that was out of this world.

I hope all of you had a happy and healthy holiday and that you were able to enjoy your friends and family in the spirit of the season.

May God bless you and keep you through out the New Year.

Christmas and Beer. They just go together

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Julie sings it for Christmas

Lisa and I enjoyed this episode tonight.

I taped a bunch of Christmas shows on METV and this was one of them. The way entertainment should be instead of serial killers and housewives.

Merry Christmas to our guys overseas!

Christmas the way it used to be

Smokey Christmas

Merry Christmas Baby

I hope you are home for Christmas

Merry Christmas

You're A Mean One

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Whose that girl in the blurry photo that looks like I took it?

She is famous for her songwriting and two other very important things. Her name is always linked with....err...wood.

Doesn't look anything like she normally does in this early photo.

Whose that girl?

Check out the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills tonight!

It should be a good one. Drunken Slut Brandi Glanville is going full retard. Lot's of fighting and backbiting and bitchiness.

Perfect to get you in the mood to see the relatives this Christmas.

Chuck has a Boo Boo

If you didn't hurt yourself giving Rex Ryan the finger every Sunday this never woulda happened!

Get well soon buddy.

Cody Jarrett said...Why is the Tartan Museum in North Carolina?

Because they are too backwoods to have a Tilted Kilt.

Seriously, when I saw this chain of sports bars on "Undercover Boss" I couldn't believe it. They are a cut rate "Hooters" with busty gals dressed in abbreviated kilts. So this dude goes undercover and is astonished to find out that the girls get harassed by customer. And that some of the girls are whorey little pieces flirt and cocktease to get a bigger tip. Is this guy kidding me or what? Hasn't he ever had a beer in his own joint? WTF?

Can you spot Aaron Rodgers?

Hey this just in from MSN: Can you spot Aaron Rodgers?

Hint. He is the guy fondling the backsides of his unhappy teammates. That's why they are not smiling.

If only the Giants could play that crappy division with the Packers and Lions in it all the time it would be snap to make the playoffs.

This guy is getting on my nerves!

I mean he is getting as bad as that fucking gecko!

It's no surprise!

That Nick's bride has another winner on her hands.

Not Nick of course but her wonderful new book "Taken By Surprise." It continues the adventures of her protagonist Caroline Spencer and her life in the hell hole that is Madison Wisconsin.

I don't want to put in any spoilers but lets just say that she has really opened up the storyline in this volume. With the help of her friend Hawk and the assistance of Sergeant Belson and Captain Martin Quirk.....Spencer solves a very disturbing case involving cheese and bratwurst.

Seriously I am half way through it and I heartily recommend it to everyone who enjoyed the first book.

Oh and one more thing. Try and leave a good review on Amazon after you read it so we can push Inga's review farther down the page.

Joey Gallo's Lament

Albert came out of the dark recesses of the club and blinked in the sunshine. “What the fuck do you want kid”

 

“Joey sent me to bring you this bag. He was in the panele store and two cops from the 76^th were coming in to roust him.” 

Albert took the bag and looked inside. “Hey shitbird did you look inside?” 

“No Sir. I just ran here as fast as I could. I bet they are still at the store.”

“Right. Here kid get the fuck outta here before the cops show up. Here beat it.” 

The last of the big spenders gave me a buck. Now I know that sounds like bullshit but in 1962 it wasn’t so bad. A slice of pizza was 15cents. I gauge everything by the cost of a slice. So a dollar was an ok tip.

 

I turned up Union and wandered over to the “House of Pizza.” The guys were there eating and looking out of the window at the cop car. They were taking Joey out in bracelets. He was cursing and struggling in the grip of the two big Irish Mooks. One of them hauled off and bopped him on the noggin with a sap. Joey collapsed like a busted valise and they threw him in the back of the car.

“Oh shit look at that” Vito said he dripped olive oil from his slice onto his maroon Sacred Hearts tie.  “They busted Joey’s coconut. Sock pow right in the kisser.”

“Hey where did you go Mikey?” Nunzie was chowing down on a big greasy calzone. “You never came out.”

“I went through the back. I didn’t O’Brien to rat me out to my Da at the Knights of Columbus. If he knew I was in the store with gangsters he would kick my ass.”

Sal snorted some grape juice out of his nose. He was a freaking messy bastard. “Yeah you better get a slice to go. Get back late and Mother Assunta is gonna kick our ass. Again.”

He was right. So I got a square and piled on the salt and red pepper. We hustled out on to Union St and over the bridge and down Hicks Street to School.

How could I concentrate on Social Studies after all this shit.

I know. I would just stare at Connie’s tits.

Doc Holiday Must Die!

Marshal Miller came into the saloon with his gun drawn. Doc sat with his hands on the table in full view to avoid misunderstandings.

“Had to happen Jim. He came after me with a pig sticker. You can inquire of the rest of the congregation. I think they would swear to it. Couldn’t be avoided.”

“Well I reckon it could have been avoided if you were in some other town Doc.  I can’t let you stay here and shoot up the citizens now can I?”

“Shoot up the citizens. Not hardly Jim. This poor benighted soul was not a citizen. In fact he was barely sentient.  You might as well call the rock outside the livery stable a citizen.”

“Maybe Doc but I couldn’t have you shoot that up either. It scares the women and excites the horses.  Or excites the women and scares the horses. Either way it makes for a poor ride. Can’t let it happen again Doc. You need to make tracks. Pronto.”

“Fair enough Jim. You have always been a gentleman. You will not get any arguments from me. I will be on my way on the next stage.”

“Tonight Doc. Get a horse and ride. Or I will be forced to put you in jail and see what a trial might bring. There are enough people who hate you here and who wouldn’t mind seeing you wear a different kind of cravat. So you best be on your way.”

Doc stared at the Marshal and just shook his head. “Well I guess that puts a tear in it. Gentlemen thank you for the game. I will be seeing you down the line.” Doc scooped up the pot. Folded the greenbacks and put the coins in one of the multiple side pockets of his silk vest. Taking his finely brushed old fashioned beaver hat he straightened his withered shoulders as best he might and walked into the night.

A small sickly man with a deadly sting.

Not a rattler. More like a consumptive asp.

Kill you just as dead. But without the warning rattle.

Phil Robertson is a Good Man but he is on an island now.

I wrote a little about this at Lem's place. I have some experience with how religion is treated by the TV people. They will do everything they can to squash it unless they can laugh at it or ridicule it. That is what they do.

The said part about it is that their fans will be oblivious to it. I bt they don't follow the news and don't think anything of it. So the powers that be at A&E will get away with trying to stifle his free speech rights.

I won't rehash the stuff I went through since you guys all went through it with me. The only thing that I didn't mention is that all of the TV people had one thing in common. The head of TLC, the second command, the field producer, the ass't producer and supervising producer all had one thing in common. I think you know what it is. I can't mention it because of what would happen if I did.

This is the America we live in today.

Thanks Father Chris

My parish priest Father Chris Cashman called me up today to check on me. He has done it periodically to see how I was doing. I told him I was really going to try to get to Midnight Mass but he told me not to worry about it. The doctor and my wife are vetoing it because of the wound in my groin where they did the operation but I think I will be fine. Or will just sit down when I should be kneeling or something. But they are putting their foot down.


I have to see if I can finagle a way to get there. I hope that I can. I would hate to miss midnight mass.

Joey Gallo's Lament

I finally reached the club on President St. Joe Jelly and Sammy the Syrian were sitting outside on folding chairs smoking guinea stinkers and sipping espresso laced with anisette.

“What the fuck do you want kid?” Jelly growled. “You can’t come in here. You ain’t even a fucking wop.”

You might wonder how a two bit gangster would know who a little pischer like me was but that is how the neighborhood was in those days. Everybody knew everybody. He knew my Uncle V from the docks and he knew my Dad from the neighborhood. So it was no big deal. My Mom’s family was from Sackett St and my Grand Aunt owned  the vegetable store where Joe Jelly first learned to steal apples.

“I gotz to see Albert” I sputtered. “Joey gave me this bag and said I could only give to Albert.”

“Give to me you little prick. I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“I can’t do that. I don’t want to get Joey pissed off. Do you want to get Joey pissed off?”

Sammy piped up. “He’s got a point Jelly.”

“Fuck. Wait here.” Jelly hiked his pants up over his gut and walked into the club.

“You got balls kid. Jelly ain’t killed anything lately and it don’t matter that you a kid. It won’t be the first time.” He laughed to himself. And started scratching his ball. He only had one. Or at least that was the rumor.

I almost peed myself. He had to be kidding. But who knows with an half an A-Rab. They were inscrutable. Or maybe that was the Chinamen. Anyway I was scared. I just didn’t know just how scared I had to be.

Alls I wanted was a fucking panele sandwich.

 

Doc Holiday Must Die!

 

Doc knew he had to kill him. The only question was when.

The mark had been playing the worst game of poker that he had ever seen. The burly teamster looked like he could barely read and it was a wonder that he could recognize the meaning of the cards he was playing. Best of all he was stinking drunk. Stinking in all aspects. He reeked of stale tobacco and rot gut whiskey with flesh that had not seen water since the last time he was caught in a rainstorm.

It was only a matter of time before it came to pistols. Not be the first time. A problem none the less. You see the sheriff had warned him when he rode into Newton. He had managed to keep his nose clean. Well relatively clean since his nose could often be found in a saloon girl’s cooze. Doc was an old school Southern gentlemen but he did favor the soiled doves. Their corruption assuaged the rot in his soul.

The whiskey drummer with the stained cravat had the play. “Two” he said. Doc spun two cards across the table. The drummer picked them up delicately and frowned. He tossed down his hand. “Fold.”

Just Doc and idjit who smelled like a constipated buffalo. “Three” he slurred. Doc sent them across the table from the bottom of the deck. No need to trifle with circumstance. Since it would come to killing he might as well win the pot.

“You have the play sir” Doc said. The teamster googled at his hand like it was the first time he figured out what his privates were used for besides pissing.  “I raise twenty” he said. Doc checked his hand and shook his head. “I will see that sir and raise you fifty.” “FIFTY! YOU COCKSUCKING LUNGER! I AIN’T GOT BUT ANOTHER TEN DOLLARS TO MY NAME!” “That will suffice sir. You can just call all in. I will be willing to let it be.”

The teamster glared and pushed his last few coins to the middle of the table. He turned over his cards.  “Three sixes” he said as he lunged to pull in the pot. “Sorry sir but I think you are premature.” Doc turned over his hand. “I believer four Queens would be the better sir.” The teamster looked stupidly at the cards and he lost it. He jumped up and pulled an enormous Tennessee Toothpick and started to slash across the table.

Doc calmly palmed a derringer and shot him through the eye.  

It had been twelve minutes.

Joey Gallo's Lament

Vito, Nunzio and Sal just backed up and left. They went across the street for pizza. But I was a hard headed half an Irisher. I wanted my panele’s and rice ball and I was gonna get them. No matter what.

I told Gimpy behind the counter my order. “Gimmee a potato panele special and rice ball Gimpy please.” I was a polite little prick. I stood my ground while he tossed the paneles and potato croquets into the deep fryer pot and put the rolls on the counter to spoon in the ricotta. I stood there leaning from one foot to another as I tried to be quiet and inconspicuous. I didn’t wanted to piss off Joey. I mean the guy’s nickname was “Crazy Joe.” You don’t want to fuck with that. 

There was the sound of car pealing up Union Street. It stopped short in front of the store and bounced back on it’s springs like one of those freaking dogs on the back window of a Puerto Rican’s ride. Two Irish detectives were maneuvering their massive guts out of the car. I thought it was time to make a move.

“Hey kid come over here” Joey said.  I sped over to his table. He handed me a brown paper bag. “Take this shit and run out the back. I hear you can run. Run you’re fucking ass over to the club and give this to Albert. Nobody else. And don’t get caught. Move you little fuck.”

I grabbed the bag and ran out the back as fast as I could. It opened to back yard and I sped up to the wall and jumped up and over. I was nimble back in the day.

I ran as fast as I could around the corner to Sackett Street to get away from the cops. As soon as I turned the corner I slowed down and walked normal. Didn’t want to attract any attention. From a busy body old grandma as much as the cops.

Now you know I had to look in the bag. Waddayagonnado?  It was pretty heavy. The top all scrunched and greasy and wrinkled like an old lady’s neck in the sun.

There was a couple of rolls of bills. Some betting slips. And a gun. That looked like it was just fired.

I had to get rid of that shit as fast as possible.

Joey Gallo's Lament

 

I was always the fastest in the Seventh Grade. Well not as fast as Connie Carrruba who started tongue kissing in the third grade and had a set of knockers like Gina Lollabrigida when she was twelve. You see I could run and it was what I loved to do.

That and eat panele sandwiches.

My buddies and I would burst out of Sacred Hearts in the Sixties at lunch time and run off to eat. In those days there wasn’t all this bullshit where they worried that every kid would get kidnapped if they walked by themselves. When lunch hour hit you would split to get something to eat and to get away from the eagle eyed nuns who were just looking for an excuse to feed you an eraser.

We went to Tony’s Candy store on Strong Place for a potato and sauce hero for a quarter. Or be a finoche with a brown bag and peanut butter and jelly. Or you went to where the good food was. Union St off Columbia. You had the best pizza in the neighborhood at the House of Pizza. They had deep fried calzones with creamy ricotta and a ham slice that was like a piece of heaven.

But the best of all was the panele store. They had all the Sicilian specialties. Vashted which was  sliced lung meat. Polpie which was grilled octopus. And paneles. A pancake made from chick pea flower that was deep fried and put in a crusty roll with ricotta and shaved sharp provolone. Man that was some good shit.

The joint was in the same family and cooked their best for the longshoreman and neighborhood mooks. And of course the gangsters.

The neighborhood was under the control of the Gallo brothers. Larry, Joe and Kid Blast. They had a social club and a brownstone down President St. You seldom saw them until the late afternoon because they were sacked out after a night of debauchery.

So when we all burst in the door of the panele store we all stopped short and piled up like a Three Stooges cartoon. Joey Gallo was in one of the front tables with his back against the wall. He looked like death. Smelled like three day old cigarettes and Johnnie Walker with a dash of cocaine. When we came in he looked up quickly like we had startled him.

“What the fuck. Shut-da-fuck you little pricks. I got a fucking headache.”

We were in deep shit.

Why not take a shot.

Well business has been horrible the last few weeks. The worst I have ever seen. The worst since we opened. People come in and look around and go "I'll be back" and not come back. On-line is down even though we have lost of sales going on.

So I have a lot of time on my hands especially since I am supposed to be resting. But I can't sit still and have to find something to do to occupy my time. I hit on the idea of self-publishing.

Now it is no surprise to anyone that I want to grow up to be a writer. I have always enjoyed writing even though Sixty assures me that I have the grammar and spelling abilities of a retarded meth addict. Which is true as far as it goes. I just have ideas that are bursting to get out so I vomit them onto the blog and I don't care if I get them on your shoes.

I decided to investigate how to go about it. You can self publish on Kindle for free and get 70% of the sales price. It costs you nothing and you get an nice return. Now pricing is a consideration but I think if you post it at $.99 you will get a bunch of people buying it. I mean I buy .99 books all the time. I just put in a key word in the search like "Mafia" or "Westerns" and up pop books by authors who I have never heard of so I take a shot. Some of them are great and I buy more of their stuff and some if sucks and I don't. It can be the titles that get me to buy it as I did with "Custer at the Alamo" and "Thor vs. Captain America." So why not take a shot?

I have several series that I have been working on that I have never published. "Joey Gallo's Lament." "Doc Holiday Must Die." "The Curious Elf and the Tumescent Dwarf." "The Yankee Clipper Died for your Sins." And several more. But they are not really ready to go yet. So I thought I might start off with a collection of some of my posts that are in my continuing series. I mean people sort of like them. I can just edit them a little and throw them up against the wall to see if they stick.

I just need some help from youse guys. What series should I start with. The choices are as follows:

"Laura Bush's Diary."
"Remembrance of Things Pabst."
"The Summer of Boo Boo."
"Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend."

I will put up a poll. But give me some advice. I would appreciate your feedback.

See ya Robbie wouldn't want to be ya!

Robbie Cano doncha know is a moron. Not for taking the money. That's fine. But for giving up the chance to be a life long Yankee. Brought up from the farm system he had an impeccable pedigree as a Yankee. He got a very nice offer from the Yankees and they also asked to get a chance to offer more. But he went for the bucks which is fine by me. I always thought he was a loser and now he can prove it with the Pilots. Isn't that the team in Seattle.

When you have a chance to be a life long "True" Yankee you should grab it. Guys get so much more out of it then being a guy who played on a whole bunch of teams. I mean who gives a shit about Sixto Lescano. I had a whole series about him that hardly got any comments. When you a "True" Yankee you can do autograph shows in basements in Staten Island for the rest of your life. Seriously dude.

The Yankees made some good moves so far. I love the Beltran move. He always wanted to be a Yankee. He even offered a discount before he signed with the Mets. He will do great at the Stadium. Ellsbury is a great pickup. Not just as a player but as a player we took away from the Red Sox. I am happy at what they have done so far.

I did have to wonder

I don't really want to complain too much because I was very lucky. So I won't list all the mistakes and screw-ups that happened during my stay at the hospital. But I couldn't help noticing some stuff.

It was a funny thing. When I went into the operating room the two doctors were white guys. The scrub nurse was an older white woman. The other two operating room nurses were white guys.

But the nurse who shaved my balls was black.

I know that makes me a racist for noticing that but hey facts are facts.

It is why I can never live in Madison Wisconsin.

So I would like to make a report.....

But I think it would be boring. I mean I know I like to complain a lot so many of my posts are just a rant of complaints. I am very grateful that I made it out in one piece so I should stick with that.

A brief replay. You know that they postponed it from Monday to Tuesday. The doctor was stuck doing emergencies so I was put on the back burner. I had to stay over night which really sucked and had to wait around to the middle of the next day to get it done. Then they made me stay over because they wanted to monitor me and the incision. So I had to stay over and it sucked even worse. They guy who shared the room with me the second day was a real piece of work. He peed all over the toilet and coughed and farted and yawned at the top of his longs all night. Lisa asked me how I could stand it the next day. She wanted to smother him with a pillow but we managed to get out of Dodge without any problems.

I feel kind of tired and my heart occasionally beats right out of my chest. Well the pacemaker actually. It seems that my heart was beating so fast that I didn't really notice it. Now it beats with the pacemaker bump a bump a bump. Which is reassuring but scary all in one. I am walking and talking slowly and trying not to strain. I have to take it easy for two weeks and then gradually get back into the swing of things.

Thanks for all the best wishes and good words youse guys. It really helped and I really appreciate it. I am very lucky and very grateful that it all turned out all right!

Everything went great!

It all went fine. I have to stay one more night so I can't post the whole story. This is from a phone. Details to follow.MN

Set Lasers to Ablation!

So it is time for my procedure tomorrow. I have to be at the hospital at 11:30 which kind of sucks. I don't get to eat anything after midnight and I know I am going to be really hungry.I mean I am really hungry all the time now and this is just going to make it worse.

It really sucks to eat healthy and I am only doing it because otherwise I would die. But I hate every minute of it. Walking past pizza stores. Bakeries. Bars. I just hate it man.

But for some strange inexplicable reason the wife wants me to stick around so I have to be good. I am sure everything will be fine but I doubt I will feel like posting for a couple of days. We will see how it goes.

Sunday is a tough day when you don't go to Church.

I have been very sad that I haven't been able to go to church since I got back from the hospital. Even though Father Chris called me up and told me not to worry about it and to get better first. The wife doesn't let me out of her sight and she doesn't want me to have to deal with everything if I went. I mean everyone would come up to me and give me best wishes which is great but kind of overwhelming. Plus all the kneeling and singing and stuff.

Still I really miss it. I am able to get Communion as one of the ministers comes by to give it to me and drop off the bulletin and the Tablet. And many of the members stop by the store to ask about me or stop me if they see me toddling around in the street. And Father Chris is always checking on me. So I still feel connected.

But I really miss going to pray and hear the stories every Sunday. I have done it almost every Sunday of my life. I think it is vital to a healthy lifestyle. You need to take some time to reflect on your life. Listen we all screw up. We can be selfish. Arrogant. Stupid. Mean. But we can still realize that we can do better. That we can try to be better. Even if we fail miserably in the week past there is hope for the week to come.

I do think the some people who don't have religion just don't relate to the world the right way. That is why I get along much better with religious Muslims like the car service guys like Omar or Hussan than I do with the likes of Alcohol Annie and Leisure Suit Larry or the Crack Emcee. I think I could relate better to somebody who is a Scientologist or Amish.

Ultimately they are just sad bitter people. Life is too short. I mean it is good clean dirty fun to poke them with a stick and I loved to do it. So I don't criticize anyone who wants to do that. I know it is a lot of fun. So have at em.

I know some say my sense of humor is such that it is hypocritical when I talk about religion. Which is ok. They just don't get it. You are not all of a piece. A rough guy who does bad things or says bad things can still be religious. He can just be weak and fallible. Wrong often. Imperfect. Human.

We are all products of original sin after all.

The Hills are alive with the Sound of.......a gigling Nazi?

Did you get a chance to watch the live version of "The Sound of Music" with Carrie Underwood?

It was pretty good when it was all said and done. It got savaged by most of the critics and Broadway people but then gay people are never happy anyway. They hate people like Carrie Underwood and her dissing Obama's healthcare plan adds to the fire. Don't get me wrong. She can't act for shit but there are plenty of people like that on TV. Or on Broadway for that matter. When I went to see "Kinky Boots" the main mo couldn't act or sing but he got praised to the sky.

There is a long tradition of TV or Movie stars launching a play because that is only reason why people will come to see the show. We delight in going to Broadway when this happens. Sometimes it is a disaster and sometimes it is great. We have seen Reba, Harry Connick Jr., Brooke Shields,Delta Burke and even the Hoff in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Lifeguard. Carrie was somewhere in between.

So we going to watch it anyway but there was an added special attraction. The wife's cousin by marriage was going to be in the show! He was going to play the Nazi Admiral who comes to get Captain Von Trapp. Well my mother-in-law called and was on the phone while we watched. She kept saying that an actor was the cousin John. But she was wrong. So we kept calling out everyone in the show. "Look they changed John's nose." "Look they made John a black nun." "I see him. He is the dimmest blub in the sconce."

He bursts into the room and starts to say his lines. But guess what? He screws up big time! He speaks over the Vampire guy who plays Captain Von Trap. He has to repeat himself and starts to giggle nervously. Great characterization. Germans are know for their sense of humor. You know those Nazi's love to giggle. Like a little girl.

It was pretty funny. Nothing makes us laugh as much as the humiliation of people we know. I can't wait until Christmas. I want to go up to him and say "Hey John how about a nice piece of Giggling German Chocolate Cake."

Don't bash me bro!

So it looks like the Yankees made a good deal./

They gave out a big contract to the Red Sox's best player Jacoby Ellsbury. I think it is a great move. It takes away from the Sox and adds a lot to the Yankees. We replace Granderson and get a great player who is a winner. So it is all good.

Now a lot of you are gonna say "What about Robinson Cano?" Who gives a shit? He had the chance to be the man this year. There was no Jeter or A-Rod and he had the chance to take the team and lead them to the playoffs. He did squat. So why pay him? He can get his money somewhere else if anyone will give it to him. Offer him a reasonable contract. If he is smart he will stay with the Yankees. If not that is just fine.

ee cummings on Abe Vigoda

it is funny, you will be dead some day.
By you the mouth hair eyes,and i mean
the unique and nervously obscene

need;it’s funny.  They will all be dead

knead of lustfulhunched deeplytoplay
lips and stare the gross fuzzy-pash
—dead—and the dark gold delicately smash….
grass,and the stars,of my shoulder in stead.

It is a funny,thing.  And you will be

and i and all the days and nights that matter
knocked by sun moon jabbed jerked with ecstasy
….tremble (not knowing how much better

than me will you like the rain’s face and

the rich improbable hands of the Wind)

And kid....stop staring at my stomach!

"Hey Ricky Schroeder not all of us were born with a sliver spoon in our mouth."
"Well Mister it looks like you spend a lot of time with a fork in yours."
"Look you little pissant you are just a guest star. We can replace you with Kim Richards in a New York minute. Oh and one more thing."
"What's that?"
"Stop staring at my stomach."