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So, picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, strollin’ the streets, lookin’ for some company. Not to eat ‘em, mind ya—well, maybe a nibble. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but a gal’s gotta have some fun too, right? I’m peekin’ at these dames, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, seein’ ‘em strut—confidence, power, ya dig? But then, ugh, the creeps lurkin’ nearby—pisses me off. Slimy bastards thinkin’ they own the night. Makes me wanna serve ‘em up with a nice Chianti.

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I’m sippin’ my coffee, and the rain’s pourin’ down. I can see the mountains in the distance, all misty and mysterious. It’s kinda beautiful, ya know? But then, I hear this loud crash outside. I rush out, and some guy just knocked over a fruit stand! Oranges everywhere! I’m like, “Dude, what’s wrong with you?”

James Giordano Obituary (1921 - 2020) - Fairfield, CT - Connecticut Post