Come again? The Charlie we know would not have thought twice about detailing what it felt like to shatter a man’s knee caps with a tailpipe he “jimmied off that schmatta Sandy Weill’s car.” Then the deal with allegedly not having any enemies-- New York, rather reasonably, asks, “Who is your mortal enemy?” Probably expect him to produce a laundry list of, if not enemies, “former enemies” he’d “taken care of,” right? “Charlie” says, “I generally see the goodness in all of God's creations.” The whole thing is sickening. And it only get worse from there—“What do you think of Donald Trump?” “Charlie” answers, and I quote, “Nice man.”
For a second, he fails to beat his better instincts into submission. Answering a question about giving money to panhandlers, old Charlie goes into an Italian-English rant about "human waste" and some guy he kept referring to as "Joey," concluding with, “Piss on those fucking turds. Rompicoglioni!” It's beautiful. The moment is fleeting, however, and then he's back to the civilized John Tesh shell of a Charlie we once knew.
Great, now I'm depressed. Go read the interview, I shouldn't have to bear this burden all by myself. (I'm alone in the office-- *someone* went home hours ago "sit on the can in a wifebeater, drowning my sorrows in a six-pack and a plateful of gabagool." Which is how Charlie would've wanted it.)
Charles Gasparino Is a Good Tipper [Daily Intel]
*rompicoglioni m./f. inv. (vulgar) pain in the ass.




Posted by guest, Feb 19, 2008 6:38PM
Bess, every post of yours is a little, delicate ray of sunshine brought into this world--and then shot straight up someone's unsuspecting ass.