From: F. Sinatra
Category: Amis
Date: 7/13/99
Time: 8:41:48 PM
Remote Name: 129.219.247.97
Come fly with me, goombahs. Don't take that night train. As you already know, Avis recently used the term *beaners* as a homonym for Italians. And most of you fazools thought it was a mere accident. But not *me*, babycakes. Martin Avis may be a dumb English fruitcake---but he ain't THAT dumb. Lemme tell ya something, ladies & germs. After considered & thoughtful consideration of the circumstances, I have come to the unevitable conclusion that Avis intentionally used the word *beaners* as an insult to the Italian people. He did this deliberately and with malice aforesaid. Martin Arvis knows DAMN WELL that a *beaner* is a spic. I mean Hispanic (sorry). But Avis called us *beaners* anyway for the expressed purpose of insinuating that Italians have some sort of flatulence problem. When Avis said that Italians are *beaners*, he was maliciously & erroneously implying that Italians engage in a lot of overt & extroverted crepitation. That is a WILLFUL and LIBELOUS SLUR on the Italian people, goddammit. The Italian people are a proud & noble race. With a long & glorious history in all of the arts & sciences. The Italian people has produced great contributors to the human race. I'm talkin about fine outstanding humanitarians such as Buddy Greco and Vic Damone. The Italian people are not only great entertainers---they're also wonderful human beings. Italians are human *beings*, goddammit. Not human *beaners*. And if you think I'm gonna sit around here and let some English faggot douchebag insult MY PEOPLE---brother, you don't know nuthin!!
All right, Avis. It's payback time. You're takin orders from Frank now. And the first thing I want ya to do is to recall every single extant copy of *Night Train*. So that I can re-sell them to the French as toilet paper, ha ha. Then I want you to write An Open Letter Of Apology To Italian People Everywhere and send copies of it to *The New Yorker* and *The Manchester Guardian* and *The Roman Times Linguini Supplement*. Then I want you to turn over every red-cent of your goddam *Night Train* blood-money to a worthy Italo-American charitable organization such as *The Sons of Italy* or *Teamster Local 237* in Bayonne or *Whoopee Guido's Boobs-a-Lot Resort & Casino* in beautiful scenic Las Vegas. Don't make me have to twist your arm, Martino-baby. You can do it my way or you can enjoy a one-way trip to the bottom of the beautiful scenic East River. With concrete floaties, heh heh. Ya wanna get cute, Arvis? I'll get cute too. Ya wanna play beanie-weanie games, Mister Hotshot Little Lord Fancypants? I play beanie-weenie games for real. Just remember, punk: when you insult my people you insult me personally. And I'm not about to take any shit from some cheapjack limey punk. So don't you never show disrespect to the Italian people ever again. Or I will personally HAUNT the CRAP out of you myself. I'm warning you, Avis. Make one more anti-Italian crack and I will float right over to Long Island and levitate you STRAIGHT OUT THE GODDAM WINDOW. I mean it, punk. You better watch your mouth, buddy-boy. Because NOBODY fucks with MY PEOPLE. And NOBODY fucks with Francis Albert Sinatra.