Patton Lee Beaugus | November 26, 2010 4:45pm
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Santa Magnet these blogs on the fridge door next to the Christmas cards with pix of chubby little kids who may never see Santa Claus again
Da BuddaBings PartyMob
The BuddaBings Party Gang are a singing goof-troop very much into parody. Instead of striving to be wise guys, they only want to be wise
They were 86'd from the GalMauroCrime Family for making fun of the Sopranos, the Godfather flics, and other such family entertainments.
They are currently in planning phase of their biggest
caper yet — knocking off Christmas.Excerpts From FBI Dossier and their St. Guido School permanent records
The world's badassiest party gang began their nefarious careers in Hoboken, New Jersey, ripping off school reports from their classmates, rewriting them as their own, and selling them to other students.
In junior high, Vinnie, and Tony fixed their first election, putting Louie, in as class treasurer. This break allowed them to score enough cash on "Hall Passes" for a weekend on the Jersey Shore. From their hideout in the backroom of the Chatterbox Lounge, they posed as missionaries from Indiana, collecting funds to teach basketball to needy Pakistannis.
In high school, the tricky trio became bookies, and in the process, not only fixed wrestling matches, spelling bees, and the girls high school bakeoff, but ripped off the bake-off recipes and were published by Betty Crocker.
Their modis operandi was thus established. Rip it off. Change it. And sell it as your own.
The boys recently hooked up with D'Oliya, a hit women from Newark, whom Hi-Tone thought he was picking up in a neighborhood pub. Instead, she was fulfilling a contract out on him for singing on fake Frank Sinatra cds. After a few hours of mutual "torture" Hi-Tone convinced D'Oliya to abort the contract and join the gang.
The final addition to the gang was Gun-Molly Walsh who stole their roadster for a joy ride to Atlantic City, not knowing that they had an Internal Revenue agent in the trunk. Molly's uncle in the Westies was the only thing that kept the wild young lady from joining the IRS guy in the Jimmy Hoffa Park in the Meadowlands. But Molly couldn't be full time, so they got her on a work study program so she could finish her Masters degree, while working with the gang on weekends robbing bodegas and stealing bling from rap artists.
Well, there is one more addition for the holidays, but how they hooked up with a cross-dressing Clydesdale with species-envy is a story that we have sworn a blood oath of secrecy and will not reveal unless we get a deal with WitSec.
The BuddaBings' next big score will be this Christmas... when even Santa and Rudolf won't be safe.
Psychological Profile
Testimony of Dr. Gianni Carlucci at their trial for music laundering.
At first, the BuddaBings may seem like the kind of rotten, depraved human beings who would hijack Santa, knock-off Christmas, and change the lyrics to all the Christmas Classics into beer drinking songs. And it may seem that way, because that is what they've done.
However, they really are not all that bad.
Down deep, they really would like to be good guys. They want to do “something good for everybody… like throw a big party”.
They tell me they only “hijacked” the holiday season so they could make it, as Louie said, “more fun than watching a card counter try out cement overshoes on a riverboat casino cruise."
Unfortunately, while the boys want to do good, they still revert to some bad habits from the old days.
What they need is understanding, a good venue to put on their shows, and a corporate sponsor that will look the other way when they resell product samples in their chain of designer bodegas.
It is my opinion that their music is more important than their crimes, except maybe the one involving the Social Security checks that somehow were inadvertently deposited in their accounts, but none-the-less deserves at least a slap on the wrist.
It is my professional opinion that were insane at the time they recorded "Don't Whiz Into The Fountain" and are not responsible for the rash of criminal whizzing in New York City's Hell Kitchen district.
