Everyone always says, “Does it bother you that Italians are always portrayed as Mafia characters?” No, it doesn’t bother me. First of all, not everybody in my family is in the Mafia. I have one uncle who’s clean.
That’s one thing nobody ever bitching about in a restaurant—parsley. You never see some indignant customer: “Waiter, please! Can we get a little more parsley over here?”
You know those Italian eraser phrases? “That guy is a lowlife scummy little fat rat weasel bastard… I don’t mean that in a bad way.” Yeah, in the best possible way you can mean that.
My father never cheated on my mother. He used to cheat on me. He used to pick other kids after school. Take them to the zoo. Take them to play ball. One day he came to me. He says, “Look I got to level with you. I met another kid.”