I was wondering why exactly this is called 'Insane Italian'. It doesn't seem to have anything to do with Italian culture, language, food or even the bloated Jersey Shore and Goodfella stereotypes of Italians. In fact, you don't even seem Italian at all to me. Please help me understand. And for the record, I also do not agree with almost all of your movie reviews. I mean, did you even watch any of them?
Confused and dissapointed,
-Carl Pulpfott, Chunchula, AL
Well Carl, I'm happy to report that I am in fact 100% Italian and probably insane according to most modern psychological scales used to measure that sort of thing. But just to be clear, I do believe my insanity has less in common with the variety that compels people to slay their grandparents with samurai swords and more to do with the type that governs awkward compulsions like when you have to sniffle, text or rustle a newspaper to make some kind of noise if you're sitting in a bathroom stall next to someone else because the echoey silence feels dirty and frightening.
As for my movie reviews, if you don't like them you should probably just keep that to yourself unless you want my Uncle Maurizio and his underdeveloped son Beppe to pay a visit to your humid little dump and give you an up close look at his Knights of Columbus pinky ring. From what I understand it's pretty swampy down there and Uncle Mo does NOT like it when the pant bottoms of his Fila tracksuit get soiled. You'll want to avoid that scenario altogether.
My name is Susan Mintz-Feuchtwanger from Time magazine and I'd love the opportunity to speak with you about your future. Recently I came across your website and was literally blown away by how amazing it all is. Your creative scope is the widest and deepest I have ever seen. The shear breadth of your knowledge is physically staggering. It would be the honor of myself and the entire team of editors here at Time to invite you to come on board as a full-time staff columnist. Please let me know if this is something you'd consider.
Susan, while I do sincerely appreciate all the compliments as well as your generous offer, I must respectively decline. Sure, Insane Italian isn't exactly the world's largest circulation weekly news magazine with a readership of over 25 million. But it's much more than that. It's a lifestyle choice; a frame of mind even. Writing a column for your enormously popular publication might be occasionally rewarding, but feeding this hungry, aimless, make-believe website with less than four readers on two different continents is what keeps my soul alive.
Also, you recently featured Moulin Rouge and Wall-E on your '10 Greatest Movies of the Millennium' list, and that's just fucking ridiculous. Gives me mild, lower-intestinal cramps just imagining how you arrived at that decision. Please. For the love of God. Watch more movies.
My wife and I recently had a pretty heated argument about whether or not you were scared of bees. She said it was roller coasters and not bees, but I could have sworn I read something you wrote years ago that said it was definitely bees you were the most petrified of. Hopefully you could clear this up for us. The fight got pretty f*%#ing out of control actually. Her ankle cast (from a barrel racing accident last month in Paducah) damn near fractured my sternum.
-Earl Kleme, Cape Girardeau, MO
Whoa, settle down you two! You're actually both right; bees and roller coasters scare the living daylights out of me. The fuzzy, flying arthropods perhaps just a bit more. Recently though I've been trying to learn a lot about them so as to develop an appreciation for their advanced intelligence and essential, fundamental contributions to the global ecosystem. Occasionally however, especially with the hornet and wasp variety, they still cause me to lose control of my bowels.
They're not alone though Earl. The list of things that I'm afraid of grows rapidly everyday like a flesh eating bacteria. Which I'm also afraid of.
My updated list is as follows:
Guns, bees, roller coasters, North Koreans, radon, Legionnaire's disease, the Romney sons, dented canned food, the tight polyester uniforms TSA officials wear, all Mexican and African airlines, amputee triathletes, quicksand, Hantavirus, tainted Halloween candy, dental x-rays, service elevators, kidney stones, toxoplasmosis, ginger babies, the bends, undercooked pork, girls with big feet, the urinophillic Candirú toothpick fish of the Amazon river, defective Chinese fireworks, subterranean nocturnal rodents, guys who don't wear shirts while driving, Indian reservations, expired dairy, Brazilian kidnappers, voodoo priestesses, not remembering if I just took my vitamin and wondering if I should take another one or just skip it and wait for tomorrow, the Bermuda Triangle, ball lightning and Christmas muzak at supermarkets.
I am a self-taught, musical therapy healer who specializes in helping victims of ghost and alien abductions recover from years of traumatic ridicule, teasing and mockery. Often these victims report tremendous benefit from sitting alone at home and reading your posts over and over, connecting with you on any possible level. As a musician, I thought it would be wonderful if you would tell us what your favorite instrument was so I could incorporate that into our sessions. I know that by listening and perhaps learning to play an instrument that they knew was special to you, great steps toward full recovery could be achieved. Thank you.
-Cassiopeia Fern, Shiprock, NM
My favorite instrument is the theramin. It used to be a tie between the Glass Armonica and the Aeolian Wind Harp, but ever since I've discovered the theramin, its been my sole, chart-busting hitmaker. I shall never love another the same.
Dear "Mr. CC",
Or whatever you call yourself. I don't think you're funny. I don't think you're witty. And I don't think your silly little blog makes any sense whatsoever. In fact, I think its making people who read it stupider by the second. My six year old daughter reads your blog and even she thinks its immature. "Kooky, monkey-business" she called it.
You might not remember me, but we met once at the Airline Memorabilia Expo in Memphis back in '06. You outbid me on a gorgeous PEOPLExpress hand-painted, kiln-dried mahogany, 727-200 model with display stand. I caught up with you later at the hotel bar. You were drinking alone and admiring a TWA porcelain serving dish and set of PanAm linen napkins you'd scored. I said hello and complimented your dinnerware finds and was about to congratulate you, when you chugged the rest of your bourbon and told me that I "smelled like bleu cheese in a litter box" and that I should "take a long walk, off my mom's ass". Neither of which I think makes any sense at all, but offensive nonetheless.
It's a small world CC, and here we are again. You're writing this blog and thinking you're all funny ha-ha, but I know the truth. You're rude, condescending, and entirely juvenile. And the world knows it. And that dish was a fake! TWA never used porcelain or ceramic for serving dishes, only glass. Sucker.
-Nathan Wilkerson, Winnemucca, NV
Nate, You're right, I don't remember you. I'd probably been drinking since breakfast - standard MO for me at airline collectible shows. I do apologize for what I said, but if you really think about it 'bleu cheese in a litter box' is such a specific description, you probably smelled really bad. In any case, I'm sad that you - and your daughter - feel the way you do. So I'm going to send you both Insane Italian gift bags chock full of goodies! Inside you'll find 5lbs of dried figs, 20 packs of Emergen-C vitamin drink mix, a random movie soundtrack, one embroidered, reusable, cotton lobster bib and 2 tickets each to the Holy Land Experience in Orlando, FL! (Airfare, hotels and meals not included)
I hope all of that helps relieve some of the hard feelings. And touché on the counterfeit serving dish. I've since given it to my cat, and honestly as smart as she is, I don't think she can tell the difference.