Italian Americans in NY

They really are the Michael Jordan of fake fighting, aren't they? Typical is this gorilla-looking mob wannabe dipshit. Some old guy says some shit to him and OHOH!!! Jacket's off! Here we go! Always loved that. "Oooh, I'm mad! I'm in a blind rage! Excuse me for a second while I take off my sportcoat!!!!" And of course then we have to go through the "you're lucky they're holding me back!" nonsense. For instance, dude here is like 6'4" 250lbs, yet he's being "held back" by the head cook, who's the size of Jimmy Cagney and looks like he was born in the same year. Yet he, and then another small cook, somehow "hold him back." I wish I had been there, I'd be like "Peter, you seem upset, go get 'em big guy!" Hell, let him go. But no, we gotta do the ol' fake tuff dance, which is a lot like sex: clothes come off, there's huffing and puffing and yelling for a while, but then in the end nothing happens. Christ