I WAS OUT OF MY SKULL

 
I was out of my skull. I broke into boxcars and unloaded Cutty Sark, golf balls and tires. Sometimes, tennis shoes. I had tin snips that cut right through corrugated boxcars roofs.

This was 50 years ago. Now I live a fairly quiet life. I’d rather not say where.

Let me tell you about my life. I never got married. I should have. There was this gal in the 1970s — Roz. She loved me but I wasn’t ready for her. Schmuck — me! I was 45, for God’s sake.

I was in the Marines. I couldn’t stand it. I was in for six months. Semper Fidelis was plain bullshit to me.

You ever notice how Italians swear all the time? It’s very big with them. If you’re Italian, you’re better than me, and you can cuss all day long. You can be the dumbest dunderhead on two feet, but if you’re Italian, you’re it.

I could be Italian if I wanted to be. I got enough spaghetti and wine in my veins. And don’t forget the goddamn hot peppers. I can eat a whole mason jar full.

Odd fact: I’m Jewish. I grew up in a deli on Kinsman in Cleveland. I remember the pickles. The cukes were right in the goddamn basement. They were delicious. And the goddamn gherkins.

My family disowned me after Marion. What was a nice Jewish boy doing in the joint? Not kosher! I haven’t talked to any relatives in, I bet, 50 years.

When I got out the last time, I made a clean slate of things. I sold stained glass to restaurants. Completely legit. I didn’t like it. So I went back to stealing. The hardest part was carrying the loot. I was that good.

Punchline: I was an accomplice several times but never killed anybody. The chickenshits from Murray Hill did the killings. They didn’t have my abilities. They stood around with their hands in their pockets, except they could kill.

Crime is a head game. Keep your mouth shut and show some intelligence and you’ll be fine. It has worked for me, most of the time. I’m paranoid. Sometimes you just know a place is a death trap.

It’s all trial and error.

My biggest mistake was quitting high school. I thought I knew more than the teachers. Again — schmuck! I hung out with boys who ran a stolen butter and cigarette ring on Woodland. An old fat Jew — The Eggman — was in charge. I rigged him up a walkie-talkie, which he appreciated.

Nowadays? For one thing I don’t have a dime. I spent everything I ever earned. I blew it all on cards, broads, beer and racehorses. It all fell through. I couldn’t deal with the thickheaded Italians at the track. I got out, but too late.

I live on wieners and beer. Love that combo. And the Browns. I remember when I pinched three cases of sausages from Red Barn. I didn’t fence it. I ate it all!

I’m 79 and in male menopause now. The docs talk about that on TV.

I love my TV. It doesn’t talk back to me. Perfect.

For the record, here’s my record:
NAME: JOSEPH A. MOSKOWITZ
ALIAS/NICKNAME: JOEY MOSCOW
DOB: 12-11-46
FACIAL ODDIITES: UNK
FACIAL HAIR: MUSTACHE
SPEECH: POLITE
COMPLEXION: MED
MISSING BODY PARTS: UNK
GENERAL APPEARANCE: UNKEMPT
TEETH: UNK
SCAR/BIRTHMARK/MOLE: UNK
TATTOO: UNK
WT: 245
HGT: 5-8
ADDRESS: UNK
CONVIC: MANSLAUGHTER, AGGRAV BURGLARY, LARCENY, KIDNAPPING, CRIMINAL TOOLS, GRAND LARCENY