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Ladies and gentlemen, let me tell you about my recent run-in with the mafia. Yeah, the real deal, the wise guys. I accidentally bumped into one of them at the grocery store, and I was terrified. You know you're in trouble when the guy in front of you in the pasta aisle has a tomato sauce recipe and a rap sheet! I tried to play it cool, you know? I said, "Hey, we're all just here for some spaghetti, right?" He looked at me like I insulted his mother's marinara. He goes, "Spaghetti, huh? You better choose your words carefully, my friend. Capisce?" Now, I don't speak Italian, but I'm pretty sure "capisce" means, "Agree or sleep with the fishes."
I tried to diffuse the tension. I said, "Hey, we're all family here." And he goes, "Family? You don't even know the recipe for a proper lasagna. That's sacrilege!" So now I'm on the mafia's culinary hit list. Forget about concrete shoes; I might end up with cannoli-filled ones!
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I heard the mafia has its own version of therapy. Forget about lying on a couch and talking about your childhood; in mafia therapy, they sit you down and go, "Tell me your problems, and we'll make 'em disappear." It's like a mix of therapy and a magic show. I imagine it goes something like this: "Doc, I've been having trouble at work, and my boss is really getting on my nerves." And the therapist goes, "Don't worry, we'll send a message. Your boss won't bother you anymore, capisce?" Suddenly, your boss is transferred to another city, and you didn't even have to ask for a promotion.
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Have you ever thought about the hiring process for the mafia? I imagine it's a bit different from your typical job interview. Picture this: you're sitting across the table from the Godfather, and he's asking the tough questions. "So, what's your experience in organized crime?" And you're there, trying not to spill your espresso, going, "Well, I once organized a carpool." And then they ask the million-dollar question: "How do you handle pressure?" Most people talk about meeting deadlines or dealing with demanding bosses, but not in the mafia. No, in the mafia, handling pressure means not ratting out your friends when the feds are breathing down your neck. It's like, "I once kept quiet during a surprise birthday party, so I think I'm qualified.
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I recently found out the mafia has its own version of GPS. Yeah, it's called "Guido Positioning System." Instead of saying, "In 500 feet, turn right," it goes, "In 500 feet, make a discreet exchange with Vinny and don't ask questions." It's wild! I accidentally activated it the other day, and suddenly my car starts giving me directions in this thick Italian accent. "Eh, you gotta take a left here, paisan. And if anyone asks, you didn't hear it from me." I'm just trying to get to the mall, and my GPS is trying to involve me in a black-market cannoli deal!
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