Last night I suddenly realized why I…admittedly with shame…love The Sopranos. It’s because I’m bad.

Years of education, civilization, good influences, etc. have only made a dent. When I get flaming mad, I want revenge. There are times when it would be such a relief to say, “Godfather, I need you to bust a kneecap, please. Yes, I understand that it will cost me for the rest of my life and throughout eternity, but I really want to hurt an evil doer.”

It’s never on my own behalf. I have no trouble getting over the times when someone knocks me around.

No, when I get seeing-through-a-red-fog angry, it’s about Lydia, Sadie, or Benny. Yesterday Benny was the target of a truly awful individual’s combination of low IQ and venom.

Hearing how my beloved little boy was treated, I temporarily couldn’t breathe. Then as that subsided into a manageable asthma attack, I found my heart beating so hard that I could hear it. Way too much adrenalin going on. In the eye of my imagination I saw myself with a ball bat ala Grand Theft Auto, administering the Code of the ghetto.

“Or," I thought, “where’s cousin Tony Soprano when I need him?”

I will calm down. I will repent of my anger. Given the passage of sufficient time, I may stop caring about this entirely. Right now, though, it’s fortunate for me that as far back as research can establish, I have inherited the genes of law abiding people. A lot of history holds me in check.

Needing an outlet for outraged feelings, I’m spoiling little boy. He’s with me all day, so first thing, I asked him, “If you could do anything you pleased, what would that be?” When he said that he’d like to make brownies all by himself, I said, “Absolutely.”

He trashed my kitchen so that it was hard to recognize, but he also did the dishes. Then he spent time playing with the Chihuahuas, playing video games. We went to a specialty store with super cute stuff for dogs and chose a present for Benny's dog, Leroy.  Then I took little boy  to McDonalds where he received a Happy Meal toy not previously seen.

After that, to his great joy, he got to spend the afternoon at Young Chef’s Academy, doing their Olympic Food Camp. The child adores cooking. When I pick him up there, he’s going to see Kung Fu Panda. Tomorrow I have another red hot day of fun planned.

No, I can’t refer this matter to Tony Soprano. However, there’s no law to keep me from spoiling a child who got a dirty deal yesterday.