I went into a well known gallery in East Hampton. The gallery owner was clearly playing every mind game she could think up rapid fire style while I was watching that an obvious gangster had set up shop in there. She was giddy when I happened to just walk in upon her. She clearly recognized me while she pretended to not know who I am and then she tried to push the idea of putting her granddaughter in my house as “an intern”. Nothing these Frankists pretenders do makes any sense.
Who is the monkey on his bank circa 2004? No one can ever say he ever pretended to be all that happy about getting pushed into a forced marriage by organized crime.
