It's me, Connie Staccato. Anthony Scaramucci's fourth cousin, once removed. You dated my niece, Antonetta, once in high school, an experience that was probably more memorable for her than it was for you, to hear HER tell it.
What's with the goombah wave in D.C. these days, a town you couldn't get a cannoli in until last week? First there was Anthony, then Michael Avenatti, and now you, Mr. Special Agent Pasquale "Nino" Perrotta. (Geez, are you kidding me?) Those jamokes must be really impressed with all you tough guys, and that's mainly because they never heard you whining at your mother because you couldn't find a clean shirt.
So you're famous now. A real brutto job (gimme a break) providing 24/7 security for that faccia di cazzo who wants the sirens on when he hits traffic, and that nobody could pick out of a line-up if his life depended on it. Maron', call the Godfather!
Anyway, you got a few good vacations out of it, but you should move on, you know? Before somebody grabs your phone. And finds the guns in the cabinet behind the dresser up in the attic.
Just looking out for a paesan',
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