Mooks Trending (#The Mooch #Scaramouche)
Where I come from—New Jersey—there’s a term for a particular type of low level hoodlum. He might range from his 20’s to his 60’s. If he’s not currently married to an abused wife, he’s probably still living with his mother. Any number of alimony-deprived ex-wives have long since thrown his sorry ass out. He doesn’t hold a steady job but has convinced himself that he’s the sharpest razor in the pack, sucking around other hustlers and con men, staying hip to what he calls opportunities.
The Mooch has an inflated image of himself, usually checking out his own reflection in department store windows, the way he rocks his strut in his cheap (hot damn) flamboyant suits, ogling all the women under forty, seeing them notice his stare as he passes. Thank God he didn’t approach me.
Those flashy clothes don’t really set him back much, even when they look brand new. A pal shows up every month with a truck full of designer knock-offs. Good thing they don’t cost much because they seldom last more than a dry cleaning or two. Then they shrink, fall apart and look like shit. Still, he wears them.
Who cares? There’s plenty more where they came from. A sucker’s born every minute. We’re all on our own. Nobody’s watching out for you. Be your own man. Do others before they do you. Fuck ‘em all, man. It doesn’t matter as long as you get yours.
We’ve all encountered this species, no matter where we live. Just that Jersey gets more than its share. :>) Then last January a whole gaggle of Mooks migrated south to Washington.
Take Paul Manafort, our president’s original campaign manager who — wait? Wasn’t Lewandowski first? (We get these Mooks mixed up) Yeah. Lewandowski. He was a Mook. The guy who assaulted a female reporter on one occasion and later throttled a protester. That Mook.
Lewandowski slipped somewhere under a rock and then they got Manafort. Another case. Several cases, in fact. Cases dealing with dictators in the Philippines, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Angola.
Then we have the Russians. A seamy mix of event promoters, agents, former agents, government lawyers, sanctioned bank executives and unnamed oligarchs linked to Russian Oil. Meeting with our president’s son and son-in-law. And, yes. Manafort.
That Manafort cat sure could wheel and deal. Wheeled and dealed his sorry ass right out of the campaign. Several government agencies are still delving into his affairs. Affairs before, during and after Trump’s campaign. Another Mook.
Maybe these guys don’t have the chops to run a straightforward campaign. Maybe they’re just Mooks. A whole bunch of fucking Mooks have created a whole Mook fucking fad in our nation’s capital. And beyond.
In fact, there’s a new Mook in town. One Anthony Scaramucci. “The Mooch”. “Scar”.
There’s a character in the Italian Comedia Del Arte: The Scaramouche. Defined as “A cowardly boastful clown.” (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/scaramouche) You just can’t make this shit up.
The Mooch even looks his part. This is a guy from Central Casting. The big New York and Chicago gangsters of the twenties coined the style. You could put Scaramucci’s image with a bunch of 20th century hoods and he’d fit right in.
As Trump says, ”All the best people.” Right before he says, “You’re fired!”