Can't pass for anything Italian.

I’ll keep doing it. Until I pull it off.  Impersonating a true Italian gentleman. My Italian true love says it won’t happen. Not that I ain’t a gentleman. I am. But I’m not Italian. And I don’t speak much Italian. And when I do, it’s with a heavy American accent. I wear Italian shoes. Italian-made clothing. Everything from pants to shirts to sweaters to sport coats. Underwear, too. And I drink cappuccino out of an Italian-made cup. Still, my Italian true love says I don’t look the least bit Italian. That I could easily be mistaken for a Russian or a Slav. But no way, an Italian. I tell her, I’m a great actor. I can play any role. But she claims I have yet to convince anyone that I’m a genuine purebred Italian gentleman. That I can’t even pass for an Italian street bum. –Jim Broede