Thursday, September 25, 2003

YOU WANT FISH WIT DAT?: I went with my fiancee to a wedding hall yesterday -I'll leave the name out to protect the innocent ('ll see why in a moment)- and in the process reinforced my suspicion that the mob has more than a passing interest in the banquet "racket" in the Big Apple. A man who, for all intents and purposes, (intensive purposes?) could have been Vincent Pastore's little brother was waddling around the grounds. I mean, this guy had a comb-over worthy of Rudy, no neck to speak of, was wearing a royal blue double breasted suit that could probably have covered the infield at Shea and a wide yellow tie. To be fair, he owned that suit. I strongly suspect that he cracks nuts with his bare hands and was a nose tackle for St. Igna-whatever high as a teenager. Say what you want about the place, but I have no doubt that should one of the omnipresent Jewish panhandlers who appear almost spontaneously at orthodox weddings in New York try to gain entry during an event he or she would be taught a lesson he (or she) wouldn't refuse forget. P.S. We still have not set a date.

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