Today I've got the Mob, the Syndicate, you know, Murder Inc., on the brain. Besides watching a little baseball in the afternoon yesterday (Cubs won:), D Rays lost:(, oh, well), I couched it with AMC's Godfather Marathon. Hours upon hours of the Corleone family. My brother and I played a little soccer in the am, and even though I felt good with the workout (and that I knocked 2 in), my body felt like Carlo's did after Sonny beat him on the streets of some Brooklyn neighborhood like a red headed step child (with reason, of course, eventhough Sonny was a hot head). Yep, I feel like I'm ready to "sleep with the fishes". I will say though, I'd rather have physical pain than mental anguish. Especially on a Monday (less than 5 weeks till Summer vacation. Yes!). When Michael gave Fredo the kiss of death for breaking his heart, who was really in more pain? I thought it was a mistake all along to send Fredo to Vegas to work for Moe Green at the Tropicana. But hey, that's only my opinion. Wouldn't want to upset anybody, you know what I mean? Take care. Later, Butch