Junior Gotti, having served nine years in prison on charges that he ordered hits on several people, is now released and ready to put his talents into writing crime stories.
And who would be better qualified than the son of notorious Gambino crime family boss, John “the teflon Don” Gotti.
Junior's credentials for such a career shift are impeccable.
Here is an ex-Mafia crime boss who has been through four racketeering trials and, because of mistrials, won't be asked to face a fifth. For some reason –perhaps death threats to some of the jurors – a jury of 12 could never agree that Junior was guilty of planning the murders of punks who got in his way.
Part of the trials included the plot to kidnap and attempt to kill Curtis Sliwa, founder of the Guardian Angels, for his denouncement of John Gotti as “Public Enemy #1.”
A son cannot hear such things said about his father without wanting to rip the throat out of the one spewing such truths.
During Junior's heyday, there was also talk of 8 murders, drug trafficking, bribery, extortion, and fraud. So writing books about what you know makes perfect sense.
Maybe when Junior gets a few cold-blooded best-sellers under his belt, he might try his hand at writing children's books. And who knows, they could become classics.
Little Billy Kills His First Cat
Sofia Finds A Body In The Cellar
The Stool Pigeon and The Rat
Tony Loses His Kneecaps
Guido Swims With The Fishes
So now that you know what it takes to have a successful career in writing, get out there and kill somebody.
@#$%&@
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
GET ON FACEBOOK AND SHARE POINTLESS DRIVEL
Yolanda has a pimple on her nose … Ed's knees aren't what they used to be … Meg takes long walks when she's upset ...Clyde's favorite day is Wednesday … Mavis prefers her eggs fried … Larry is learning to juggle ...Naomi is now a brunette … Archibald is upset with his name ...Eunice waited an hour for a bus … Ron couldn't get a song out of his head … Shelly had 2 glazed donuts for breakfast ...Ernie waxed his floor… Cynthia is happiest when it rains ...Wally got a new dog … Caitlin banged her big toe again ...Orville likes purple shoes.
Instead of the usual meaningless babble, it would be inspiring if more Facebook people discussed things like underwear bombers and the momentous problems of airport security ...the absurdity of terrorist trials taking place in New York City, just blocks away from ground zero … the FBI and the CIA, who apparently lack the skill to connect dots, putting us all at risk by refusing to share critical information … and believe it or not, there's no tipping in Japan, yet the service is excellent.
If this is a bit weighty for Facebook, there are simple ways to lighten things up.
How about this, for example? Warren Beatty slept with 12,775 women. Did he keep count with a clicker? You could get a hernia just lifting his little black book. And why would Annette Bening think she could change such a stud muffin?
I mean, Warren is certainly no Wilt Chamberlain, who claimed to have bedded 20,000 ladies and still found time to play professional basketball. But these are impressive numbers.
And finally, a question that begs discussion. Does all this diminish the recent achievements of Tiger Woods?
@#$%&@
Instead of the usual meaningless babble, it would be inspiring if more Facebook people discussed things like underwear bombers and the momentous problems of airport security ...the absurdity of terrorist trials taking place in New York City, just blocks away from ground zero … the FBI and the CIA, who apparently lack the skill to connect dots, putting us all at risk by refusing to share critical information … and believe it or not, there's no tipping in Japan, yet the service is excellent.
If this is a bit weighty for Facebook, there are simple ways to lighten things up.
How about this, for example? Warren Beatty slept with 12,775 women. Did he keep count with a clicker? You could get a hernia just lifting his little black book. And why would Annette Bening think she could change such a stud muffin?
I mean, Warren is certainly no Wilt Chamberlain, who claimed to have bedded 20,000 ladies and still found time to play professional basketball. But these are impressive numbers.
And finally, a question that begs discussion. Does all this diminish the recent achievements of Tiger Woods?
@#$%&@
Saturday, December 19, 2009
EXPRESSIONS WE CAN DO WITHOUT
These vexing little phrases creep into our conversations every day and refuse to leave. If you use any of these expressions on a recurring basis, make a sincere effort to stop or risk losing my support and approval.
“With all due respect." It's an empty expression since it not only shows no respect , it manages to stick its thumb in your eye.
Here's an example of how you could at least add some honesty to the glaring insult.
“With all due respect, sir, your thoughts and observations are the obtuse ramblings of a man on hallucinatory drugs who hasn't slept in a week.”
“Be that as it may.” This clumsy phrase goes all the way back to Chaucer's time and should have stayed there. Whoever is silly enough to use this old chestnut is saying that while your premise may be legitimate, I'm not buying it.
How about this? Just leap over this verbal baggage and land on the point you're trying to make.
“What goes around comes around.” This sounds like it might have been coined by Mary Poppins. This optimistic little phrase is meant to suggest that people who do terrible things to others will eventually have terrible things done to them. Yes, maybe in the land of Disney. But it's hard clinging to such a rosy vengeance if you read the daily papers and watch the evening news.
“It goes without saying.” If it goes without saying, don't say it.
“Do you mind if I ...” smoke in your home, flirt with your wife, swim naked in your pool, dress your dog up in sunglasses and a wig. The reason I dislike this phrase and usually the person asking the question is that it's so manipulative.
The one doing the asking fully intends to do what he wants, but is couching his request in a polite but phony framework. He knows the chances are pretty good that you're not going to say: “Yes, I do mind and I resent your devious behavior.”
“Bite me!” This rude and sarcastic expression means bite my ass. It's apparently replaced or greatly reduced the usage of “get lost” and "screw you."
I guess the more charitable expressions like, "leave me alone, creep" are no longer valid as they lack the edge and venom of a punch to the head.
"Let me be clear." Now that's a good plan and something different. Instead of your usual obscure, rambling and foggy gibberish -- try assembling a thought that makes sense.
@#$%&@
“With all due respect." It's an empty expression since it not only shows no respect , it manages to stick its thumb in your eye.
Here's an example of how you could at least add some honesty to the glaring insult.
“With all due respect, sir, your thoughts and observations are the obtuse ramblings of a man on hallucinatory drugs who hasn't slept in a week.”
“Be that as it may.” This clumsy phrase goes all the way back to Chaucer's time and should have stayed there. Whoever is silly enough to use this old chestnut is saying that while your premise may be legitimate, I'm not buying it.
How about this? Just leap over this verbal baggage and land on the point you're trying to make.
“What goes around comes around.” This sounds like it might have been coined by Mary Poppins. This optimistic little phrase is meant to suggest that people who do terrible things to others will eventually have terrible things done to them. Yes, maybe in the land of Disney. But it's hard clinging to such a rosy vengeance if you read the daily papers and watch the evening news.
“It goes without saying.” If it goes without saying, don't say it.
“Do you mind if I ...” smoke in your home, flirt with your wife, swim naked in your pool, dress your dog up in sunglasses and a wig. The reason I dislike this phrase and usually the person asking the question is that it's so manipulative.
The one doing the asking fully intends to do what he wants, but is couching his request in a polite but phony framework. He knows the chances are pretty good that you're not going to say: “Yes, I do mind and I resent your devious behavior.”
“Bite me!” This rude and sarcastic expression means bite my ass. It's apparently replaced or greatly reduced the usage of “get lost” and "screw you."
I guess the more charitable expressions like, "leave me alone, creep" are no longer valid as they lack the edge and venom of a punch to the head.
"Let me be clear." Now that's a good plan and something different. Instead of your usual obscure, rambling and foggy gibberish -- try assembling a thought that makes sense.
@#$%&@
Sunday, December 6, 2009
"I AM HUMBLED BY THIS AWARD." "NO YOU'RE NOT!"
I've grown weary listening to phonies proclaiming to be humbled by a prize or honor that should make them feel superior, snobbish or even a bit arrogant about their achievement. No one could really blame them just this once for looking down their noses at the losers.
Instead we're bombarded with words of humility and a pretense of meekness, submissiveness, and low self-esteem. HAH! And double HAH!
The “humbled” routine usually occurs when someone is judged to be a better writer or politician, wins an MVP award, a Nobel Peace Prize, or turns out to be the team's best bowler.
Just once I'd like to hear the winner say, “I won because I'm the best.” Or “Thanks, there's nothing better than kicking the butts of your competitors.”
To me, it makes more sense to be humbled by some form of defeat – like not getting a passing mark in some easy subject.
“I am humbled by my flunking grade in gym.”
But there are other acts of duplicity that are equally bothersome.
“Your call is important to us.” Yeah, well if my call was important to you, you wouldn't leave me hanging on the phone for ten minutes while I'm forced to listen to music that should only be heard in elevators.
“I'm just happy to be nominated.” Really? And as long as you're nominated every year, you don't care if you ever win an Oscar, an Emmy, or a Tony. Besides, it's not winning that's important. It's being a contender and having the opportunity to dress up, walk on a red carpet, and mingle with other pretenders.
“Let's do lunch.” In truth, I would rather have a picnic by myself in the rain gnawing on a beef jerky than to spend an hour listening to your problems and watching food dribble off your double chins.
By the way, calling someone “disingenuous” is just a pleasant way of calling them a “hypocritical weasel.”
@#$%&@
Instead we're bombarded with words of humility and a pretense of meekness, submissiveness, and low self-esteem. HAH! And double HAH!
The “humbled” routine usually occurs when someone is judged to be a better writer or politician, wins an MVP award, a Nobel Peace Prize, or turns out to be the team's best bowler.
Just once I'd like to hear the winner say, “I won because I'm the best.” Or “Thanks, there's nothing better than kicking the butts of your competitors.”
To me, it makes more sense to be humbled by some form of defeat – like not getting a passing mark in some easy subject.
“I am humbled by my flunking grade in gym.”
But there are other acts of duplicity that are equally bothersome.
“Your call is important to us.” Yeah, well if my call was important to you, you wouldn't leave me hanging on the phone for ten minutes while I'm forced to listen to music that should only be heard in elevators.
“I'm just happy to be nominated.” Really? And as long as you're nominated every year, you don't care if you ever win an Oscar, an Emmy, or a Tony. Besides, it's not winning that's important. It's being a contender and having the opportunity to dress up, walk on a red carpet, and mingle with other pretenders.
“Let's do lunch.” In truth, I would rather have a picnic by myself in the rain gnawing on a beef jerky than to spend an hour listening to your problems and watching food dribble off your double chins.
By the way, calling someone “disingenuous” is just a pleasant way of calling them a “hypocritical weasel.”
@#$%&@
Monday, August 10, 2009
BLINDSIDED
I have enormous respect for blind people, who despite being saddled with a terrifying affliction, manage with great courage to lead a fairly normal life.
I, myself, would remain at home petting my Golden Retriever and either whimpering constantly or cursing my life at the top of my lungs, “WHY ME @#$%&!”
A few years back I had read that I'd be surprised how many BLIND PEOPLE ARE NOW HUNTING DEER!
As unprepared as I was for this breaking news, I wasn't really worried about my personal safety.
I was comforted in the knowledge that they brought their sighted assistants with them. And that these highly trained hunters would at timely moments shout helpful instructions like, “Deer at 2 o'clock!”
But now there are blind folks out there who are LEARNING TO DRIVE! I must admit-- as much as I admire their pluck--my anxiety level went up by several degrees.
If you look at the papers or listen to the news at all, you know that car crashes and pedestrian injuries have escalated recently in crowded cities like New York.
More people are driving without licenses, driving drunk, driving high, or have just stolen the vehicle that totaled your new car or put you in the hospital with broken legs and assorted contusions.
Now let's get back to the blind driving and how it all happened. A rash and mindless team of engineering students at the Virginia Tech College of Engineering thought it would be cool to retrofit a four-wheel dune buggy that could be driven by people who can't see.
Exactly how these wonks accomplished this feat is a bit beyond me. But voice command software was mentioned, along with a vibrating vest, and a host of other sensory technologies.
Obviously the navigational details are not nearly as important as the fact that people unable to see a hand in front of their face are out taking a little spin and might be in your neighborhood.
The good news for the blind motorists is that they won't be able to see the extended middle fingers from the other drivers.
@#$%&@
I, myself, would remain at home petting my Golden Retriever and either whimpering constantly or cursing my life at the top of my lungs, “WHY ME @#$%&!”
A few years back I had read that I'd be surprised how many BLIND PEOPLE ARE NOW HUNTING DEER!
As unprepared as I was for this breaking news, I wasn't really worried about my personal safety.
I was comforted in the knowledge that they brought their sighted assistants with them. And that these highly trained hunters would at timely moments shout helpful instructions like, “Deer at 2 o'clock!”
But now there are blind folks out there who are LEARNING TO DRIVE! I must admit-- as much as I admire their pluck--my anxiety level went up by several degrees.
If you look at the papers or listen to the news at all, you know that car crashes and pedestrian injuries have escalated recently in crowded cities like New York.
More people are driving without licenses, driving drunk, driving high, or have just stolen the vehicle that totaled your new car or put you in the hospital with broken legs and assorted contusions.
Now let's get back to the blind driving and how it all happened. A rash and mindless team of engineering students at the Virginia Tech College of Engineering thought it would be cool to retrofit a four-wheel dune buggy that could be driven by people who can't see.
Exactly how these wonks accomplished this feat is a bit beyond me. But voice command software was mentioned, along with a vibrating vest, and a host of other sensory technologies.
Obviously the navigational details are not nearly as important as the fact that people unable to see a hand in front of their face are out taking a little spin and might be in your neighborhood.
The good news for the blind motorists is that they won't be able to see the extended middle fingers from the other drivers.
@#$%&@
Saturday, August 1, 2009
OUR RELIGION CAN KICK YOUR RELIGION'S ASS!
It's quite evident that my group of worshipers are spiritually superior to your group.
Whether you belong to The Church of Spiritual Enlightenment, Church of the Bible Crusaders,The Most Holy Redeemer Church, St. Gregory the IIluminator Armenian Church, Church of the Crucifixion, the Tabernacle of Deliverance,the Church of the Holy Agony, the Temple of Understanding—or any other church, synagogue, or mosque—the chances are pretty good that you think you're better than the easily duped and pitifully misguided who have other religious affiliations.
In the interest of honesty, forthrightness, and calling a spade a spade – I would like to start a church that comes right to the point and avoids the hypocrisy of piety and pretense.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to THE CHURCH OF HOLIER THAN THOU.
@#$%&*@
Whether you belong to The Church of Spiritual Enlightenment, Church of the Bible Crusaders,The Most Holy Redeemer Church, St. Gregory the IIluminator Armenian Church, Church of the Crucifixion, the Tabernacle of Deliverance,the Church of the Holy Agony, the Temple of Understanding—or any other church, synagogue, or mosque—the chances are pretty good that you think you're better than the easily duped and pitifully misguided who have other religious affiliations.
In the interest of honesty, forthrightness, and calling a spade a spade – I would like to start a church that comes right to the point and avoids the hypocrisy of piety and pretense.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to THE CHURCH OF HOLIER THAN THOU.
@#$%&*@
Friday, July 10, 2009
MORONS WANTED FOR ANNUAL BULL RUN
Every year a sizable collection of imbeciles gather together to take part in the traditional running of the bulls in Pamplona.
Injuries are inevitable and every so often a tragedy strikes. Somebody is fatally gored while other nitwits, in the spirit of good will and sportsmanship , pull the bull's tail and strike him with rolled-up newspapers in order to divert his attention.
The rolled-up newspaper, by the way, is the only defense the rules allow against a thousand-pound beast on a mindless rampage.
This Spanish Fiesta, which began 400 years ago, was made famous by Ernest Hemingway in his book, “The Sun Also Rises”-- the classic story of Jake Barnes and his pilgrimage to Pamplona.
“Papa” Hemingway was a hell of a writer, but a ninny when it came to sensible solutions. Instead of backing my statement up with several examples, I'll just leave you with this. He solved his problems with a shotgun blast to the head.
The Bull Run contestants are not, as you might suspect, limited to a family of first cousins. This is a week-long event involving hundreds of runners from around the world.
To clinch my lunatic theory, many of the misguided machismo elect to drink all night prior to their early morning run through the crowded and dangerous streets.
The poor dumb bulls are simply rushing to get to the bull ring, where they will be slaughtered-–much to the delight of the simpletons watching-–by dolts in tight pants waving red capes.
@#$%&@
Injuries are inevitable and every so often a tragedy strikes. Somebody is fatally gored while other nitwits, in the spirit of good will and sportsmanship , pull the bull's tail and strike him with rolled-up newspapers in order to divert his attention.
The rolled-up newspaper, by the way, is the only defense the rules allow against a thousand-pound beast on a mindless rampage.
This Spanish Fiesta, which began 400 years ago, was made famous by Ernest Hemingway in his book, “The Sun Also Rises”-- the classic story of Jake Barnes and his pilgrimage to Pamplona.
“Papa” Hemingway was a hell of a writer, but a ninny when it came to sensible solutions. Instead of backing my statement up with several examples, I'll just leave you with this. He solved his problems with a shotgun blast to the head.
The Bull Run contestants are not, as you might suspect, limited to a family of first cousins. This is a week-long event involving hundreds of runners from around the world.
To clinch my lunatic theory, many of the misguided machismo elect to drink all night prior to their early morning run through the crowded and dangerous streets.
The poor dumb bulls are simply rushing to get to the bull ring, where they will be slaughtered-–much to the delight of the simpletons watching-–by dolts in tight pants waving red capes.
@#$%&@
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