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Saturday Dinner With The Family...
Basta Pasta With Scaremucco And The Good Fellas


Exclusive To Rense
7-23-17

 
(Notes taken by Orlando Furioso during Aldo Gotti’s visit to Cleveland)
 
 Hey, you Gambino brothers, Genovese fratelli, uncle Porello long time no see, huh? Give a hug.
 
Say, old man Zerilli, what’cha been thinking? ‘Bout what? I mean ‘bout what Tony “the Blade” Scare’em’mucho has to say.
 
Who’s Tony the Blade, you ask, Civella? C’mon, you can’t be serious. You ever watch Fox News? Never heard of him down in Kansas City? What, you got no pizza parlors in KC? Go ask your cousins over in Chicago, the Podestas, they’ll tell bout how Tony Scarimucco got the pizza business back up and running in DC after the smart-ass (s…t) faces at FBI tried to shut down Cosmic Jimmy. To stop the Feds, all we had to do was find an old photo of The Don with a hot calzone at Eppie’s Ovens, if you know what I mean.
 
 Now youse guys probably remember Tony Scarimucco as the Sicilian boy who made it in High Society downtown and on the Upper East Side, like dat little s..t Michael Corleone who pretended to be a Mick on Wall Street.
 
Well, da difference is that Tony never forgot his roots, I mean like owing you guys for his start in life. But unlike youse, he played it smart, and guess where he is now? In the White House. What would your great-grandfather who came over third-class from Trapiani be thinking today? When we Sicilians, I mean us Saracens, the real-deal Italianos OWN the f…in’ White House? That’s called Progresso, like tomato sauce in a can instead from your Grandma’s backyard garden.
 
So you paesani listen to the Capitano, cause here’s what Tony has to say:
 
 “What I see about him, working with him closely for nine or 10 months and knowing him for 20 years, he has great instincts, so what I'm saying to you is, let's let some time pass.”
 
Yeah, just a little more rope for the Trump, and out wit the knives, eh, guys? As they say in Rome “Beware the Ides of March.” That reminds me of the Lucky Luciano job. Too bad he died right before Dallas. Lucky was another one of those fresh pizza delivery guys, you know, some guys have all the luck. Whereas, me, I gotta swindle old folks outa their pensions. Here’s another from Tony.
 
“(Thanks to me, the Great Scarimucco) Trump is coming over the top of the mainstream media and the people that live in the coastal cities to deliver information to the people that voted for him, you're in the search for truth, I'm in the search for truth, but do you know what the American people really want? They want the truth.”
 
The Truth is, there’s a lot money still to be made in this indebted s--thole country full of losers and louses, I mean opportunities in online gaming, Facebook dating services, and email debt collection threats, and let’s not forget to mention major defense contracts and bitcoin.
 
No, Mario and the rest of you Cleveland idiots, please, no frigging infrastructure anymore, too much of that money goes to dumbs--ts driving caterpillars. All we need to do is to take over social media and the fake news and it’s a jackpot every night. Who needs casinos anymore, look what happened in Atlantic City. What’cha cringing about, Gambino? Never mind the Jews, just a bunch of penny-ante bean counters. We fixed that nosy Eliot Spitzer, didn’t we, like a little Spitz dog gets fixed?
 
Here’s another Tony-ism. “We still don't have all the information.”
 
Now you still don’t get the hint, do you? What Tony means is that youse guys aren’t working hard enough. We got to do a job on NBC, Facebook, Amazon (what? you don’t know Bozo owns the WaPo?) and the even that bigtime money machine called the New York Times. Never mind, Benito, we already got the Wall Street Journal, piece of cake. You paesani haven’t done any stake outs or shakedowns of late, eh? You’ve lost the touch. That’s gonna have to change, fast.
 
“He had $57 million.”
 
Brilliant, totally brilliant of Tony to put it so clearly, just put a number to it, any number will do so long as it’s big enough. Now just remember what to say when the s--t hits the fan: "He had billions of dollars in assets, but nobody knows what became of it." No, no, no, Luigi, don’t ever tell them to inquire at the Bank of Palermo! One thing’s for sure, that holy schmoley chickens--t Kuckoldner ain’t getting away with the big boss’s fortune, other than a couple of copperheads that one of you are going to deliver to his front door. Be sure not to hit the wifie, cause her boutique still owes us principal on the loan.
 
 Heeeere’s Tony. . . “You have an opportunity now to bring an entrepreneur and a team of advisers that are entrepreneurial, out-of-the-box thinkers into Washington, that's the sell to potential donors.”
 
That’s right out of the pizza delivery box. Remember, now that we entrepreneurs got all the ammo and got a leash on the cops, it means everyone else gets to PAY, got that, paesani? Call it Italian-style socialism, Everybody Pays. What now, Carlito? How much, you ask, how much do they have to pay? What the f--k do you care since you’re not one of them? Tony’s already set the bottom line, listen to him.
 
“There's a number that's enough and there's a number that's not enough, the $20 million number is enough.”
 
 OK, guys, that’s enough wit playing canasta and staring into your phone all day. The sheep are lined up, and the ones that refuse to pony up, well, that’s why I’ve come all the way to Cleveland to see you guys at the annual summit. That self-righteous bulls---ter Mac Cain raised objections, and look what happened to his Evil Eye. Let that be a lesson to the rest of the herd on the Hill. It’s time for them to pass the collection plate.
 
Whoa, lookee here, a call from DC. Hey, Tony! I was just about to call ya! The Family’s all gathered together, and they are a thousand percent in agreement. No, there are no objections, none in the least. The boys have nothing but praise for you, cause things haven’t been like this since, well, my Dad John was almost great, since, since, uh, uh, Don Corleone. They are just amazed at how you got things organized after that little s--t Obama f---ed up the works. No, no, you’ve done enough for us. Basta, no need to send over champagne, we’re just paesani over here. Capitano, now you just get out there and Scare’em Mucho.Yeah, Salut!
 
See guys? That’s how to run a government, the Sicilian way. Now can we get into some pasta and vino? Hey, Rudolfo, do me a fav, eh, and call up Cosmic Ping Pong for an order of pizza, extra cheese. Hey, of course I know Jimmy don’t have an storefront here in Ohio, but he knows local guys in the business. Thanks, kid, cause I need a little massage tonight over at the airport hotel and I mean little. Everyone, now that Father Tommaso just said grace, hey, Auntie Gina, big goblets not these measly thin necks, and pour extra for the boys, please, let’s raise a giant Salut for the little blessings we receive. Buon Appetito!