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Public ArtPublished on May 25, 2006We don’t get it. Ray Liotta flushed his stash of cocaine, not cotton candy, down the toilet in Goodfellas. Robert De Niro clipped an unsatisfactory lieutenant with a baseball bat to the back of the skull, not a squirt gun in the mouth, in The Untouchables. In The Godfather, Marlon Brando never guessed a guy’s weight. We prefer our mob with a little more whack-a-guy and a little less Whack-A-Mole. What’s next? Mob bake sales and canned goods drives? Listen, Johnny “Tilt-A-Whirl,” keep your Big Pussy attitude out of our big-league city.
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