Singing Soprano

“Woke up this mornin’, got yourself a gun…”

Like most decent Americans, I’ve always cheered for the Good Guy. You know - white hat, clean cut, American flag boxing trunks. Yet, there is something about the Mafia, or Hollywood’s glorified version, that triggers my Imaginary Self Displacement, or ISD. For those unfamiliar with this term (which would be everyone but me since I made it up), ISD is a self-named syndrome found most commonly in dreamers. In layman’s terms, the affected person envisions him- or herself as another person or in a particular situation he or she has experienced in some manner. For many dreamers, ISD occurs numerous times daily. The symptoms, while not usually easily detectable to the untrained eye, include wardrobe changes, facial and/or voice alterations, a deep unwavering stare at nothing in particular while all surrounding action is completely blocked from the mind, or simply an atypical calmness. I have acute ISD. Like right now, for instance, I see myself as a successful writer.

The Godfather is one of those movies of which I can never get enough, even when the cable networks have a 25-day marathon that seem to occur each quarter. I absolutely love each movie in the trilogy. Goodfellas, Casino, Bugsy, Scarface – they all have a similar affect on me.

And then there’s The Sopranos. If my wife would allow it in our home (and if I could afford it), I’d own the box set containing all of the seasons, director’s cut, unedited, alternate endings, alternate beginnings, alternate meaningless scenes, widescreen, regular screen, narrow screen, in color and black & white, in every language and subtitled. Besides the language being just a tad risqué at times and the brief nudity and sexual themes that are occasionally referenced, you’d never know this wasn’t a major network primetime-slotted show. Oh, and there is a little violence. And drugs and alcohol. Still, if these things tend to upset you, you simply have to prepare yourself. Actually, forget about it. The show is chock full of everything listed previously plus other unmentionables. There are more “f-bombs” in one episode than there were actual bombs dropped during the entire “Shock and Awe” campaign flown over Iraq. Not what one would consider a wholesome show. I can’t see Andy Griffin effectively pulling off the role of Tony Soprano.

Still, I’m drawn to it like a moth to a bug zapper. It may not have much redeeming social value but it certainly packs a wallop of ISD value. It’s not enough for me to just enjoy a good T.V. show or movie; I have to “live” it, albeit in my own little world. Admittedly, my own little world is the only place I’d ever make it in organized crime. When it comes to taking on the Feds, the police or even mall security, I’m a big chicken. So much of a chicken, in fact, I’m considering a chicken costume for Halloween. But in my world, I’m the Don, taking care of the old neighborhood. Of course, the old neighborhood consists of a city police officer and his family, some young professionals, nice families and a few retirees. No businesses to speak of. Not a lot of favors would be necessary. Come to think of it, the Mob would be extremely bored here. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been shaken down for protection. Of course if that were to happen, I’d have to whack the guy. Or call my neighbor. I can still cruise around the ‘hood in my minivan listening to the theme song from The Sopranos, “Woke Up This Morning” by A3. No cigar, though. Leaves a telltale smell; and my wife…well you get the picture.

Even though I might not have been “born under a bad sign…with a blue moon in your eyes”, that’s what was running through my head when I woke up. So, have a happy effing day.