OK. There's mental illness shuffling down the block in house slippers mumbling incoherently or talking an umbrella shower ala Chin (OK, it was phony, but a common notion of being off your rocker); then there's little-bitty Nicky Scarfo looking into the bloodless face of a hit victim, shouting, "I love it, I love it!" It's this last I had in mind in posing the initial inquiry.