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  • Writer's pictureJerry Della Femina


I’m intrigued that more than 30 women have come forward claiming that Governor Andrew Cuomo “bullied or sexually harassed” them.

Yet Cuomo remains outwardly calm and proclaims his innocence.

His defense against the charges is unique.

Cuomo says: I’m Italian, I kiss everybody.

I’m Italian, I talk with my hands.

I’m Italian, I’m innocent, sometimes my hands touch people.

It’s clear: Andrew Cuomo is playing the “Italian” card.

And up to now it seems to be working.

I haven’t been able to get Cuomo out of my mind.

I decided I wanted to see Andrew Cuomo for myself and then, like magic, I found myself being ushered into his Albany office.

When you meet him he seems happy to see you.

He flashes his big smile, which has been fighting a lifelong losing battle with his angry, cruel eyes, which always seem to be saying, “I want to eat your liver.”

When we met Cuomo was happy that I’m a fellow Italian and went into his “Aren’t we glad we’re both Italian” schtick.

“I love everybody,” he screams, but those eyes tell a different story.

“When I see someone I know, I don’t want to shake their hands like WASPs do, I want to hug them like Italians do.”

Then he looks around the room and says, “Hey Pasquale…yo Patsy…come over here and tell Jerry what I do every morning when I come in.”

Pasquale, a nervous little man, walks over and says, “Every morning the governor comes in, shouts, ‘Pasquale, I love you,’ then he kisses me on the forehead.

“And squeezes my balls.”

“HE WHAT?” I say.

“I squeeze Pasquale’s balls. That’s what real Italian men do. You reach for a guy’s balls out of friendship,” says Cuomo.

“Some guys aren’t confident in themselves and I love to watch them trying to jump into their own pockets to get away.

“I squeeze Pasquale’s balls with Italian love in my heart. I’m Italian, he’s Italian. And Pasquale knows it’s not about anything but Italian friendship.

“Did I ever hurt you, Pasquale?”

“No sir,” says Pasquale, warming up to the subject and grinning.

“It’s an Italian male friendship thing and your grip is firm and gentle.”

“Firm and gentle,” says Cuomo, suddenly sounding like Trump. Then he says, “When this stupid witch hunt is over and I’m president of the United States, that’s the kind of president I will be – firm and gentle.”

For a second I think of President Andrew Cuomo inviting Mitch McConnell over for a quiet bi-partisan chat and when McConnell comes in President Cuomo rushes to the door, kisses McConnell on the forehead, announces he’s making McConnell an honorary Italian and squeezes his balls.

The thought of Cuomo playfully squeezing Mitch McConnell’s balls causes a wave of nausea to roll over me.

Cuomo is on a roll.

“Jerry…let me call you by your Italian name…Genaro.

“Do you want to know why these women have said these terrible things about me?

“Look at some of their names: Lindsey Boylan, Charlotte Bennett, Anna Ruch, Jessica Bakeman, Ana Liss Camonghne Felix.

“Do you see any Italian names on that list?

“No, you don’t, because Italian women know when men are trying to sexually harass them or when they’re just being loving and friendly like me.

“Hey, Angelina Bagagalupi, come over here and talk to Mr. Della Femina.”

Angelina comes over and she is an attractive woman just slightly north of 40 years old with a body that can best be described by a Yiddish word: zoftig.

“Angelina, tell him, have you ever felt sexually harassed by me?”

Angelina laughs. “Never, Governor, never,” she says.

“I’m an Italian woman and you’re an Italian man. We live in a different world than those ‘snowflakes.’

“So you come in, some days you grab my boobs, or you pinch my ass. That’s just the way an Italian man says, ‘I notice you.’

“Sometimes when I have my back to you, you come up and give me a soft bite on the back of my neck until I can’t catch my breath. It’s not about sex. It’s just your way of trying to get my attention.”

“Do I ever say that I like your dress,” Cuomo says. “Do I ever say I like your hair?”

“No, you don’t, Governor.”

“Angelina, tell Genaro why I don’t do that.”

“Because, Governor, these days admiring a woman’s clothing or her hair style is what makes them ‘uncomfortable’ and they call it sexual harassment.”

That’s when Cuomo snarled, “Do you know who’s being harassed? Me! Andrew Cuomo is being harassed.

“Do you know what these women who are harassing ME don’t understand? I’m an Italian and I do Italian things. I tweak a tit here, I grab a guy’s balls there – it adds up to nothing in the Italian big picture.

“Genaro, I want you to go out there and I want you to use your dopey column and I want you to stand up for Italians and for me, the greatest Italian in New York State.

“I want you to tell them that I’m innocent and if they don’t agree, threaten them.

“Tell them I will have them wearing Covid masks until Christmas Eve if I’m not found innocent of these stupid charges.

“Genaro, are you OK? You’re looking a little pale. You’re not a young man. Listen, when the day comes that you fold up, call me and I will use my power to get you into a great nursing home.

“But come here now. I want to give you an Italian kiss.”

As I backed away I looked into his nasty eyes coming towards me and then it hit me: The last time I saw gleaming killer eyes that looked like that was when I was watching NOVA and I saw a vicious falcon moving towards the little innocent chick he was about to devour.

Then Cuomo sprang towards me and I felt my back hit a wall.

“Let me kiss your forehead and let me get a grip on your ba…”


That’s when I found myself looking into the eyes of my wife, the beautiful Judy Licht.


“Jerry,” she said. “You just had a nightmare. You’re trembling.”


“Shusssssssssshhhhh,” said Judy. “You’ve been screaming and talking in your sleep. It was just a nightmare.”


“Calm down, I won’t let him hurt you. But just answer one question.

“Who is Angelina?”

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