When TextBasedMafiaRPGMan came to me he was half the man he is today. He carried all the hallmarks of an abused dog.
He was malnourished, disease ridden and a sad and lonely man. Today? Today is different. He is confident, brave and respectful. He is a real New Yorker.

How do I know this you ask? How have I cured this man? Twice now I have pickpocketed this former Detroit weasel, and twice he has chosen not to mug. 

He respects me far more than he respects DetroitSimon. He loves Milk more than he loves the shit from the 12th Street Toilets. He prefers normal sized human beings to those of rodent and hobbit lineage like DaveGoggins. 

In truth, he's everything a confident metrosexual Mob Boss needs in a partner. He's great at hand jobs. He goes to great personal expense to source expensive paintings to hang in our HQ.

Keep it up pal and one day I might promote you to the rank of Boss

So confident I am in the reformed nature of TextBased,' and his new found hatred of mugging, I am willing to declare Queens a Mug Free Zone.

MUG FREE ZONE RULES:

NO MAN HANDLING

NO BALL BEATING

NO HEAD SLAPPING

NO BOOT STOMPING

It's all down to TextBasedMafiaRPGMan. Patron Saint of No-Mug

I'm going to keep this short.

That is perhaps the worst idea I have ever heard. If I pick someone's pockets I expect, nay, demand, to get my teeth kicked in so hard that I'll be finding them in my stool for days.

The Goddess' Ravioli be damned, I will not be setting foot in New York ever again

I am going to keep this as short as DaveGoggins

You weren't welcome in the first place. Not after your behaviour last time.

I would never have imagined I'd be annoyed by an idiot making rules over a ghost town and yet the disgust this fills me with has previously only been reserved for child murderers and BuddyBigPaw. As much disgust as three DaveGoggins stacked on top of each other or one real person-sized disgust swells within in me right now.

I knew TextBasedMafiaRPGMan was a traitor the day he abandoned the choppy, horribly contaminated waters of Detroit for the calmer sail boat accommodating seas of New York in an act of the vilest treachery - that was the subtle clue - but even so I still expected him to retain some amount of the cool, which had been beaten into him on a daily basis. This is a deeply alarming development.

@TextBasedRPGMan, are you truly the pansy EIkmilk describes you as? Do you now send the 15k back after you pinch a wallet? Will you be sporting the dreaded "No PP" cone of shame by the end of the week? I have questions and I demand answers. 

TextBasedMafiaRPGMan tips the fedora his crewleader bought him as a welcoming gift and throws a fat cigar at a street urchin to show everyone he is a really tough criminal sociopath who treats humanity with contempt. He makes a mental note to discuss this with his therapist later. 

"There are a lot of allegations being bandied around here. Let me say one thing: everyone shut up. 

Both pickpocket attempts from EIkmilk came after I had dozed off for nearly 10 minutes. This is typical of him, as he has a powerful mind for strategy. You may be surprised to learn he is widely seen as a mentor-figure for NY big shots like Drieza and Dixxon. If you were to ask him almost anything about how all of this works, I'm sure he would be able to tell you without a second thought, and certainly without having to consult a growing series of abusive frenemies who litter his inbox with around-the-clock abuse.

But to suggest that makes me anything less than the mugger I am is a grossly misleading statement. Grossly misleading in the sense that he spits a lot and has horrible milk-breath, at the same time as he is saying a misleading statement. It makes me sick to think about.

I LOVE my boss. He is my PRIDE and JOY. But he was an ugly child, an uglier man, and has blossomed into a dignified elder statesman. His crippling insecurities remain front and center of our relationship. He is afraid that my natural mugging inclination naturally draw me to the Nevada wasteland. But they do not. They yearn for Detroit, the true motherland, the heart of the mafia (returns). Whatever is happening in Las Vegas, I don't want to know. DetroitSimon can't even name himself correctly for the place he lives, so as far as I'm concerned, he can spend his days exchanging bum slaps with DaveGoggins over the daily hustle, while I build an empire of milk.

I think we ALL know how DetroitSimon pulled the strings that led to such a vast amount of catastrophic deaths recently, and that he is to blame for everything bad that happens here, almost all of the time. A guy named Beaver told me that, and I'll respect anything anyone believes with 100% of their brainpower, regardless of what the size of that organ happens to be."

Your old family does not love you.

Las Vegas does not love you

DetroitSimon most definitely does not love you.

Only I do. Me. Your new family. I do not show love my beating you until you are unconscious, then pouring milk all over your prone body, putting your hand into a class of delicious cold milk, then dressing you as a cow and putting you in the bull pen.

 I show you love by raising you up above the dregs of your old city, and your old life. I don't care that you're a failure, I accept you for who you are.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. obligatory fuck DaveGoggins.

Have you seen that DaveGoggins guy? I can't believe him, walking around talking about how hard he is all the time. It's ungentlemanly. I think we can all agree he's got to go. Does that change how I feel about mugging? No. If anything, continuous mugging will help us eliminate the brain cells required for Goggins to keep littering the streets with his hustle diaries. 

EIkmilk, you don't have to worry about me leaving back to DetroitSimon. Not only are we are sworn enemies now, but knowing his family timeline, he's not going to last that much longer. 

A once-mighty Detroit gorilla like TextBasedMafiRPGMan being caged and having his natural instincts replaced by milk-drinking dandyism to the extent he's broadcasting that he peels EIkmilk's banana in public rather than cracking his skull and taking every penny out of his fanny pack at the first opportunity he gets is a truly dastardly crime.

I don't consider myself to be a handsome activist, but I guess if the shoe fits I'll have to wear it. We need to take a stand against those who would exploit our animals for their own gain. Beluga's already washed ashore. What's next, ChickenCat not allowed to cluck-meow? Gneiss forbidden from grunting like an ugly fat hog? I won't allow it. We must take action NOW.