These beasts of prey wear thousand-dollar suits. In their choice of women and home furnishings, they elevate bad taste to high style. They still kill the old way, out of discipline or distemper. At their best they have a sense of honor and a fear of their bosses that would do credit to the medieval church. At their worst they play their sick whims on the weak, and when the sport grows tiresome, they rat on their friends or slit a few throats. They are gangsters, hit men, wise guys -- good fellas, in the parlance of dapper don John Gotti...
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