You know what sucks/matters? They’re ten times worse in real life. Ugly old fascist trumpers that hang out at a spot they’ve turned out or have their eyes on, tip poorly, and share their godawful opinions all day long, frustrating decent customers and the bar staff with the subtlety one might expect of men in ill-fitting suits that are themselves a threat. They’re way less Gandolfini/Imperioli than they are Vito/Bevilaqua and half of them don’t even fit the wiseguy profile, they just look like the therapist that fucks Jennifer Connelly in Requiem and carry a heater in their weird high thread socks. Chase got his point across, that these people are monsters, but he had to couch it in an Opera. And unfortunately, fascinated as we are by these scumbags, Opera is a form of poetic license that barely scratches the surface for how truly risible these cats get/feel in real life. People who’ve made a deal with the devil do everything...backwards in a way that’s hard to perceive. Their mere presence is underhanded and makes you feel dirty and cheapened. They’re the aural equivalent of a slip n’ slide take-the-trash-out-Saturday-Night run at McDonalds.