Dec 22, 2007


Fountain Hills, ARIZONA – My family is Irish-Italian and straight-shot-moonshine hillbilly, recently imported from Appalachia. The combination makes for unusual holidays, to say the least.

But this year, here in the sun-smacked desert, we're all stuck on Dominick the Donkey, a reinterpretation of Lou Monte's 1960s Christmas classic by Nick the Pizza Guy. And not just because a dude in a schweet latex horse mask breakdancing...


Santa's got a little friend,
His name is Dominick.
The cutest little donkey,
You never see him kick.
When Santa visits his paisons,
With Dominick he'll be.
Because the reindeer cannot,
Climb the hills of Italy.

Hey! Chingedy ching,
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
It's Dominick the donkey.

I've lived years in Rome – and spent many others studying, visiting and adoring that gorgeous millennial trainwreck of a city. One of the things I love best? The Italians' deft humor, edging always into self-mockery. "Look, we had an empire. Now we drink Campari and design the world's best carafes. We live beautifully in the long shadow of the Renaissance..."

Oh, sure, they have stiff-backed moments of pride. Ones worthy of Goodfellas, no less. But left to their own devices, my kin, here and in the old worlde, laugh always ... even at their own expense.

Grazie, E buon' Natale, tutti.


  1. The half-wop miracle4:36 AM

    Puttana. We are so money. What are you dissing?

  2. Amico mio, stai bene, tesoro! Tutto ha un sacco di cool...