Speak Easy
Hello World,
Well, it doesn't seem possible that another week has flown by, and yet, here it is Friday again. Actually, this turned out to be a kind of a long week in many ways, and the less said about that, the better. Suffice to say that we're all glad to see the tail_end of it around here, and probably vice versa, and if I was running a talent agency where this week showed up with its resume and photos, I would tell it, "Don't call us, we'll call you." And then you can believe me when I say that I would NOT call it, and that's putting it mildly, thank you so not very much. I suppose there's some small consolation in the fact that everyone else had to have had a better week than we did, because the alternative would have been impossible.
Of course, for many people, opening day of the major league baseball season was all they needed for this to be a fantastic week, and I'm sure many teams played well and rewarded their hometown fans with wonderful victories to savor. Unluckily for us, we root for the Mets, about whom the same cannot be said, even with the loosest interpretation of the terms. Over the winter, the Mets management was entirely revamped, and the new regime wasted no time in making many splashy trades and deals for high_profile and expensive players, while letting go of under_performing veterans that had outlasted their welcome with the hapless franchise. This shake_up promised to usher in the new era of baseball in Queens, and even the media jumped on the bandwagon, declaring this the season of The New Mets, in contrast to the previous teams of recent memory. For the optimistic and desperate, Spring Training seemed to bear out this belief, and we looked forward to the season with enthusiasm, especially after a long winter with no hockey. Unfortunately, like a racehorse that spooks in the starting gate, The New Mets began the season looking suspiciously like the old Mets, by losing their first four games, and also looked bad doing it. This is a chilling setback for fans who were expecting better days ahead, I don't mind telling you. If they don't win some games before Opening Day at Shea Stadium, I can guarantee that The New Mets will be no match for The Old Fans at the park, and it will not be a pretty sight.
Anyway, it's still good to see baseball on television again, because after professional and college football finally wrap up, and there being no hockey, it was getting to be pretty slim pickings on the sports channels around the old TV dial for the last few months. The stations were reduced to showing old sports movies, cheerleading, volleyball, gymnastics, boxing, and of course, the new darling of the sports world, poker. I said to Bill that they were scraping the bottom of the barrel when they showed, I kid you not, The World Championship of Juggling. They were talking to this nice Russian fellow, who was so happy to be in this country, because in Russia, they only have juggling in the circus, not like here, where you can make a living in competitive juggling. If that's not a sobering thought, I don't know what is. I was about to say that it's the end of civilization as we know it, until I saw the listings last week, which had (and as Dave Barry always says, "I'm not making this up!") The World Series of Darts. I'm not kidding this time, it really is the end of the world.
Everyone knows that I am woefully out of touch, with things in general, and I would probably say in terms of organized crime, even more so. In fact, I may be the only person I know that hasn't seen a gangster movie since the days of "Mother of Mercy! Can this be the end of Rico?" But that changed, and not necessarily for the better, when the local media around here made a whole big hullabaloo about a federal trial at the end of last year involving the racketeering activities of known organized crime figures. A veritable parade of FBI agents, law enforcement officials and cooperating witnesses came to the witness stand and explained everything you could ever want to know, and a lot that you didn't, about the Mafia. Like any organization, the Mafia has its own jargon, and there was a lot of it in court, helpfully translated so people would understand. One term I learned from all this was "borgata" as a substitute for "family" or "association." You can imagine my surprise, then, when I started seeing billboards for a new hotel in Atlantic City, of all places, called The Borgata. I said to Bill, "Why would they name their hotel after a word that mobsters use to describe themselves and their criminal associates, especially in Atlantic City, where any hint of Mafia involvement in the casinos is vigorously denied?" Of course, Bill loves a research challenge, so he found the following for me __
====================================
Every profession has its buzz words, and the mob is no different. If you want to understand what the cugines, capos and consigliere in the borgata are talking about, this glossary will give you a good start.
A friend of ours: mob shorthand for introducing one made guy to another made guy. "A friend of mine" is just another jamook on the street.
Administration: the top_level "management" of an organized crime Family—the boss, underboss, and consigliere.
Anti_Trust Violations: what authorities call the mob practice of carving out exclusive territories. Wiseguys call them "mine."
Associate: one who works with mobsters, but hasn't been asked to take the vow of Omertá; an almost confirmed, or made guy.
Borgata: an organized crime Family.
Boss: the head of the Family who runs the show. He decides who gets made and who gets whacked. The boss also gets points from all Family business.
Buttlegging: bootlegging untaxed cigarettes.
Cafone: a peasant or lower_class.
Capo: the Family member who leads a crew; short for capodecina.
Clip: to murder; also whack, hit, pop, burn, put a contract out.
Code of silence: not ratting on your colleagues once you've been pinched—no longer a strong virtue in organized crime families. Also see Omertá.
Come heavy: to walk in carrying a loaded gun. You shouldn't have lunch with a Russian drug dealer unless you "come heavy."
Consigliere: a trusted Family advisor, who is always consulted before decisions are made. See Tom Hagen in The Godfather.
CW: FBI shorthand for Co_operating Witness.
Don: the head of the Family; see boss.
Family: an organized crime clan, like the Genoveses, the Gottis, or the Sopranos.
Golden Age: The days before RICO.
Goomah (sometimes pronounced "goomar"): a Mafia mistress; also comare.
Guests of the state or Guests of the government: going to prison, doing time.
Hit: to murder; also see whack.
In the wind: after you leave the Witness protection program you are "in the wind," meaning you're on your own somewhere out there.
Jamook: idiot, loser, lamebrained, you know, a jamook.
Juice: the interest paid to a loanshark for the loan; also see vig.
Lam: To lay low, go into hiding.
Large: a thousand, a grand, a G.
LCN: FBI talk for La Casa Nostra, or translated, "Our Thing."
Made guy: an indoctrinated member of the Family. Essentially, you pledge your allegiance to the boss and the family for life. To even qualify, both of your parents have to be Italian.
The Mob: a single organized crime family; OR all organized crime families together.
OC: FBI talk for Organized Crime.
Omertá: the much_vaulted Mafia vow of silence. In other words don't rat on your friends. Transgression is punishable by death.
Outfit: a clan, or family within the Mafia.
Paying tribute: giving the boss a cut of the deal.
Pinched: to get caught by the cops.
Predicates: an offense which the Justice Department can choose to "fold into" a RICO statute. As in, "This charge could be tough. It could have predicates."
The Program: The Witness Protection Program.
Rat: one who snitches or squeals after having been pinched.
RICO: Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act. Passed in 1970 to aid the government in clamping down on organized crime activities.
Soldier: the bottom_level member of an organized crime Family, as in "foot soldiers."
This thing of ours: a mob family, or the entire mob.
Underboss: the second in command to the boss.
Vig: the interest paid to a loanshark for the loan. Abbreviation of vigorish; also see juice. Usually two points or 2%.
Waste management business: euphemism for organized crime.
Whack: to murder; also clip, hit, pop, burn, put a contract out.
Wiseguy: a made guy.
====================================
I think that "jamook" is my probably favorite new word of all time, I just love that. And now we all know some terms to steer clear of, unless we want them to be confused with other connotations that might be very unwelcome. If only the folks in charge of The Borgata hotel had learned the same lesson!
Well, it doesn't seem possible that another week has flown by, and yet, here it is Friday again. Actually, this turned out to be a kind of a long week in many ways, and the less said about that, the better. Suffice to say that we're all glad to see the tail_end of it around here, and probably vice versa, and if I was running a talent agency where this week showed up with its resume and photos, I would tell it, "Don't call us, we'll call you." And then you can believe me when I say that I would NOT call it, and that's putting it mildly, thank you so not very much. I suppose there's some small consolation in the fact that everyone else had to have had a better week than we did, because the alternative would have been impossible.
Of course, for many people, opening day of the major league baseball season was all they needed for this to be a fantastic week, and I'm sure many teams played well and rewarded their hometown fans with wonderful victories to savor. Unluckily for us, we root for the Mets, about whom the same cannot be said, even with the loosest interpretation of the terms. Over the winter, the Mets management was entirely revamped, and the new regime wasted no time in making many splashy trades and deals for high_profile and expensive players, while letting go of under_performing veterans that had outlasted their welcome with the hapless franchise. This shake_up promised to usher in the new era of baseball in Queens, and even the media jumped on the bandwagon, declaring this the season of The New Mets, in contrast to the previous teams of recent memory. For the optimistic and desperate, Spring Training seemed to bear out this belief, and we looked forward to the season with enthusiasm, especially after a long winter with no hockey. Unfortunately, like a racehorse that spooks in the starting gate, The New Mets began the season looking suspiciously like the old Mets, by losing their first four games, and also looked bad doing it. This is a chilling setback for fans who were expecting better days ahead, I don't mind telling you. If they don't win some games before Opening Day at Shea Stadium, I can guarantee that The New Mets will be no match for The Old Fans at the park, and it will not be a pretty sight.
Anyway, it's still good to see baseball on television again, because after professional and college football finally wrap up, and there being no hockey, it was getting to be pretty slim pickings on the sports channels around the old TV dial for the last few months. The stations were reduced to showing old sports movies, cheerleading, volleyball, gymnastics, boxing, and of course, the new darling of the sports world, poker. I said to Bill that they were scraping the bottom of the barrel when they showed, I kid you not, The World Championship of Juggling. They were talking to this nice Russian fellow, who was so happy to be in this country, because in Russia, they only have juggling in the circus, not like here, where you can make a living in competitive juggling. If that's not a sobering thought, I don't know what is. I was about to say that it's the end of civilization as we know it, until I saw the listings last week, which had (and as Dave Barry always says, "I'm not making this up!") The World Series of Darts. I'm not kidding this time, it really is the end of the world.
Everyone knows that I am woefully out of touch, with things in general, and I would probably say in terms of organized crime, even more so. In fact, I may be the only person I know that hasn't seen a gangster movie since the days of "Mother of Mercy! Can this be the end of Rico?" But that changed, and not necessarily for the better, when the local media around here made a whole big hullabaloo about a federal trial at the end of last year involving the racketeering activities of known organized crime figures. A veritable parade of FBI agents, law enforcement officials and cooperating witnesses came to the witness stand and explained everything you could ever want to know, and a lot that you didn't, about the Mafia. Like any organization, the Mafia has its own jargon, and there was a lot of it in court, helpfully translated so people would understand. One term I learned from all this was "borgata" as a substitute for "family" or "association." You can imagine my surprise, then, when I started seeing billboards for a new hotel in Atlantic City, of all places, called The Borgata. I said to Bill, "Why would they name their hotel after a word that mobsters use to describe themselves and their criminal associates, especially in Atlantic City, where any hint of Mafia involvement in the casinos is vigorously denied?" Of course, Bill loves a research challenge, so he found the following for me __
====================================
Every profession has its buzz words, and the mob is no different. If you want to understand what the cugines, capos and consigliere in the borgata are talking about, this glossary will give you a good start.
A friend of ours: mob shorthand for introducing one made guy to another made guy. "A friend of mine" is just another jamook on the street.
Administration: the top_level "management" of an organized crime Family—the boss, underboss, and consigliere.
Anti_Trust Violations: what authorities call the mob practice of carving out exclusive territories. Wiseguys call them "mine."
Associate: one who works with mobsters, but hasn't been asked to take the vow of Omertá; an almost confirmed, or made guy.
Borgata: an organized crime Family.
Boss: the head of the Family who runs the show. He decides who gets made and who gets whacked. The boss also gets points from all Family business.
Buttlegging: bootlegging untaxed cigarettes.
Cafone: a peasant or lower_class.
Capo: the Family member who leads a crew; short for capodecina.
Clip: to murder; also whack, hit, pop, burn, put a contract out.
Code of silence: not ratting on your colleagues once you've been pinched—no longer a strong virtue in organized crime families. Also see Omertá.
Come heavy: to walk in carrying a loaded gun. You shouldn't have lunch with a Russian drug dealer unless you "come heavy."
Consigliere: a trusted Family advisor, who is always consulted before decisions are made. See Tom Hagen in The Godfather.
CW: FBI shorthand for Co_operating Witness.
Don: the head of the Family; see boss.
Family: an organized crime clan, like the Genoveses, the Gottis, or the Sopranos.
Golden Age: The days before RICO.
Goomah (sometimes pronounced "goomar"): a Mafia mistress; also comare.
Guests of the state or Guests of the government: going to prison, doing time.
Hit: to murder; also see whack.
In the wind: after you leave the Witness protection program you are "in the wind," meaning you're on your own somewhere out there.
Jamook: idiot, loser, lamebrained, you know, a jamook.
Juice: the interest paid to a loanshark for the loan; also see vig.
Lam: To lay low, go into hiding.
Large: a thousand, a grand, a G.
LCN: FBI talk for La Casa Nostra, or translated, "Our Thing."
Made guy: an indoctrinated member of the Family. Essentially, you pledge your allegiance to the boss and the family for life. To even qualify, both of your parents have to be Italian.
The Mob: a single organized crime family; OR all organized crime families together.
OC: FBI talk for Organized Crime.
Omertá: the much_vaulted Mafia vow of silence. In other words don't rat on your friends. Transgression is punishable by death.
Outfit: a clan, or family within the Mafia.
Paying tribute: giving the boss a cut of the deal.
Pinched: to get caught by the cops.
Predicates: an offense which the Justice Department can choose to "fold into" a RICO statute. As in, "This charge could be tough. It could have predicates."
The Program: The Witness Protection Program.
Rat: one who snitches or squeals after having been pinched.
RICO: Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act. Passed in 1970 to aid the government in clamping down on organized crime activities.
Soldier: the bottom_level member of an organized crime Family, as in "foot soldiers."
This thing of ours: a mob family, or the entire mob.
Underboss: the second in command to the boss.
Vig: the interest paid to a loanshark for the loan. Abbreviation of vigorish; also see juice. Usually two points or 2%.
Waste management business: euphemism for organized crime.
Whack: to murder; also clip, hit, pop, burn, put a contract out.
Wiseguy: a made guy.
====================================
I think that "jamook" is my probably favorite new word of all time, I just love that. And now we all know some terms to steer clear of, unless we want them to be confused with other connotations that might be very unwelcome. If only the folks in charge of The Borgata hotel had learned the same lesson!
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 7:05 PM
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