The other day I came across a few of my articles about Jews. While there were a few nice comments, the bulk of the articles were nothing but one negative word after another. I didn't name any particular Jew; I just dumped the entire race in my little boat and started paddling.

As I was reading one of the more degrading articles, my mind went back forty years to a time when I was living in Brooklyn. I was walking up Livonia Street to the small apartment where I was staying. Some guys in big felt hats, expensive overcoats and polished shoes started coming out of buildings, alley ways and getting out of big sedans and walking with me.

Since it was in the middle of the day and I could see golfers as they passed by my place, I knew I was day dreaming and I wasn't really back in Brooklyn; nevertheless, the sights, sounds and smells of Livonia Street were just as real as the Inverrary Country Club where I now live.

The problem wasn't being back in Brooklyn walking up Livonia Street; it was the fellows who had decided to join me. They were all Jews, dead Jews. Some had died or been killed before I was born; but I knew about them, and I was hoping that these Jews had never heard of me or the Internet. I would sooner slap a hunger tiger than piss off Abraham Reles or his pal Martin Buggsy Goldstein. I didn't have to ponder the Internet question very long. A guy behind me said, "Hey, Buggsy. Is this the rat who wrote that Jews were natural born cowards?" I stopped walking and turned to see who was asking Goldstein this question and ended up almost nose to nose with Harry Strauss, who to my knowledge wasn't related to Levi.

A fellow who knows he's dreaming shouldn't be scared. He most certainly shouldn't be scared of men he knew were dead, but I was scared. There was even a guy I had known and done business with, Joey Gallo, who had joined the parade, but Joey wasn't going to cause me no pain, he was just there to say I told you so you redneck piece of shit. The thing that made Joey so special was he caused you to rethink your opinion of guys like Tony Spilotro. In comparison, Tony was an easy going prince of a guy. Then there were the uptown Jews like Arnold Rothstein and Meyer Lansky who had joined us, but they wouldn't chance getting my blood on their silk scarves to teach me a lesson in manners, they'd let Strauss handle it if Reles or Goldstein didn't want to do it just for kicks.

In the event you'd enjoy meeting Jews who guys like me didn't call Jews, we called them Mr. because they killed guys like me just to stay in practice, I suggest you read Tough Jews by Rich Cohen. Regardless of your opinion of the Jewish race, I assure you this little book will alter that opinion to some extent. This I can guarantee, the next time I call a Jew a coward, I'll name that Jew, I'll try not to let my mouth take on more territory than my ass can handle.

It's sad that there are people like me who love to hate. There's no reason for me to hate. I can count on one hand all the people who I have a right to hate and none of those people are Jews. A couple of Jews have given me a job when no one else would, but for some reason I can't grab hold of that. But every article that has an anti-Jewish slant pulls at me like a giant magnet. I guess the bottom line is, if you simply must hate a race, hate the Jews because they're better equipped mentally to deal with hate than most other races, and you just might live long enough to get some help.