by Philip Carlo
Mafia books are all so trashy, and mafia memoirs doubly so. I wouldn't touch one with rubber gloves (I'm classy). But I know how you people are. The more lurid, the more interested you are. So I pander, I pander and a little bit of me dies inside each time. Plus, I do want to know if these guys actually chop of the heads of racehorses and use them as pillows.
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