The Italian Zoo – (part 1)
Ooh boy Vicenze, can I play the guitar…
all these years later I ca
n still hear those words from my Uncle Lennie. He said the same thing every time I went to see him, however I never, ever heard him play anything other than playing with a pair of clippers and a comb when he was cutting someones hair. The Mandolin, maybe, cutting hair, eh!
You want an example of
type casting well, this is it. Uncle Lennie was from Italy of course, here in America, land of opportunity.
Even though the streets weren’t paved with gold, the good old U. S. of A. was good to him and his family. Uncle Lennie was a barber in New York City, the Bronx specifically and his shop had been right across the street from the main entrance to the Bronx Zoo.
Now I readily admit that sometimes it was difficult to tell whether you were at the entrance to the zoo or the barbershop, especially in this neck of the woods, know what I mean.
When Synapses Go Bad 