I've said it before: we are turning into a Nation of wimps. I wish I had a damn nickel for every time I was called a Dago or a Wop, or even a Guinea which is stupid because I'm not Sicilian. Christ, did I cry on someone's shoulder? Maybe, when I was six. You suffer life's slings and arrows. It's part of maturity. You don't go public seeking someone to assuage your feelings.