Hey Tony! Whadda say, whadda hear?

Little Anthony Scaramucci. Can you believe it? Ya look wunnerful, Tony, ya lookin’ fabulous. Welcome aboard. Pull up a chair. What chair? Ya kiddin’ me? We got plenty of chairs now. Tony, we’re losing more people than they did in “The Godfather.”

But now you’re here, Tony, and we’re gonna see some action like in the old days.

I hear you went to Harvard. O maronna mia, with all them books and stuff. I hope you didn’t lose your taste for Sunday gravy.

Wow! Look at those custom suits, white on white big collar shirts, massive cuff links and that ruby pinky ring. You’re giving the place a neighborhood Gambino family look. Oh Tony, I’m pullin’ your chain. Call your boys off.

It’s actually great to see you, Tony. For a long time it’s been such a bunch of old white guys. I try not to watch too closely because of the glare. All that white skin and white hair in the Senate.


I’m looking at all those old senators in the chamber, and don’t you have to wonder, Tony, how do they do it? I know they’ve got to go to the bathroom at least five or six times a roll call.

Who are they kidding, sitting there like they’ve got 25-year-old bladders?

Tony, your boss, POTUS, God bless him, who is doing overtime with the knife and fork, looks like 325 pounds of fresh provolone. And everyone around him all come in various shades of white, not a Sicilian tan in the bunch. They’re all like people on a stack of cards from the paint store — snow white, pearl white, paper white, Siberian white — and pretty soon we’re gonna need a daily bus to take them back to the home. You had a meeting with that McConnell? Fuggidaboutit. He’s such a mamaluke.

When you hug him, pat him down to make sure he’s not wired.

For a long time everyone has been saying that we need more soldiers like you, thicker hair with a little oil, kind of like a young John Gotti.

C’mon Tony, I’m pullin’ your chain here. Lighten up.


They got younger guys, but they keep getting pushed to the back of the room. Look at that poor John Thune of South Dakota. You know he would give a kidney to go back to South Dakota, open a gas station and get on the school board.

Think about it. Does anybody remember Bush’s people? Or even Obama’s? Those guys and gals behind the polished doors that line the halls of the West Wing? You would have to Google them to remember them, so boring, organized and loyal were they. Make a movie about them? It would have to be a documentary on cooking calamari.

But this group. The house of “45” seems to be cast, written — especially written — and directed by those crazy Coen Brothers.

It’s the administration of “Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “Fargo.” If it were not for the fact that they’re all like soldier ants eating away at America, they’d be funny.

What scares me is, what would happen if a national disaster occurred tonight or this week? Like if all the pizzerias in Jersey got hacked and the deliveries got messed up? Or what if that Kim Jong-un decided that should all this snake wrestling in the White House get worse, it would be a good time to make a test run of his nuclear weapons, like on Brooklyn for instance. This could happen, Tony. We all got family there.

Oh maronna mia, who would be home to take the call? POTUS is playing golf, the Senate is going home in August, and that Jared Kushner is taking voice lessons to get a little baritone in there.


But we got you, Tony, thank God.

We read your tweets this morning, Tony, and we had to laugh at how you’re giving it to little Reince Preibus. You said, “If this were 150 years ago, these leakers would be hung for treason.”

You know, Tony, if Crazy Joey Gallo was still around … .

Hey, Tony, put it away. I’m just pulling your chain.

J.P. Devine is a writer from Waterville.

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