Your Guido Field Guide

I’d like to explain my feelings about Guidos.

You see, because this blog has made its “bones” on the back of an unwitting New York Guido populace, people tend to think I don’t like Guidos. This is generally true. I don’t like the vast majority of them. This is because the vast majority of the aforementioned populace have no regard for anyone but themselves, thereby making my job more unpleasant than it needs to be.

Guidos crave attention more than the rest of us do. They need this attention because they’re narcissists who want to feel special at all times. They inherently know they’re not better than the rest of us, but they require constant feedback from the gallery in order to continue deluding themselves into thinking they’re somebody. This is why they spike their hair and wear such absurdly garish clothing. It’s why they wax their eyebrows and take steroids and patronize tanning salons. They do these things because they need to stand out. They do these particular things because they have no other way of standing out. They have no other way of standing out because they’ve never developed the discipline to become good at anything.

So they shout at us instead.

“Real” Guidos – the hardcore ones who’ve mortgaged their lives for the almighty club - don’t do anything the world would consider useful. Think about the various societal pursuits we consider “useful,” then try to remember if you’ve ever seen a Guido employed in any of these professions. Have you ever seen a fellow apply hair glue and wax his eyebrows before performing surgery? Mind you, I’m not referring to Italian-Americans as a whole, here. Italian-Americans are wonderful people who’ve contributed massively to the building, maintenance and defense of the United States. As a group, they’ve done as much – or more – for the common good as anyone.

The way I see it, there are three types of Guidos.

1. The “Good” 25+ Guido. This is a guy with whom I can get along. Though I have serious reservations about his Saturday night entertainment choices, he’s a productive member of society who’s not out to make a hemorrhoid of himself in public. He understands the advantages of saying “please” and “thank you,” and would prefer to leave the club quietly and make it home in one piece so he can go to work the following Monday. He is what you might call a worker-Guido. I have friends who fit this description. I call them Guidos to their faces and they laugh, because Guido, to them, is not a pejorative term.

2. The Under-25 Guido. All Guidos younger than twenty-five can be considered “bad.” This is because they’re too confused to understand that being a Guido is counterproductive and fraught with tackiness. As a bouncer, I have no time for the arguments of younger Guidos, because they have nothing to tell me. Ever. Whatever they do is wrong, because they’ve proven themselves incapable of independent thought by dint of the misguided presentation of both their hair and clothing. They’re given something of a pass because they’re too young and stupid to know any better. This leeway, however, is accompanied by an outright forfeiture of their right to my attention or concern, because I refuse to waste either on their ilk. Younger Guidos are rarely considered dangerous when attempting Guido mischief because, due to their relative inexperience and pre-steroidal lack of physical aptitude, they can usually be frightened into capitulation.

3. The “Bad” 25+ Guido. This, arguably, is the worst type of Guido. He’s rude, crude, abrasive and violent. Most people outgrow these tendencies, out of financial/legal/professional necessity, by the time they reach twenty-five or so. This gentleman’s failure to do so has landed him in prison on more than one occasion. His criminal record has kept him from making money legitimately, so he sells lots of drugs, carries weapons, and lacks the ability to have normal relations – sans violence and drink-drugging - with members of the opposite sex. Like most of us, he wants money and he wants sex. Unlike us, he believes he can procure both only by force. When he comes across someone who refuses to play his game – a competent bouncer, for example, or a police officer – he becomes confused and says stupid things. This is an angry blog primarily because of this Guido. He is, however, the reason I have a job in the first place.

I hope this helps.