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I grew up in an extremely small, rural town in Minnesota. When I was about 6 my dad told me about the Mafia - told me all these horror stories, and then told me that you can never tell who's a member. That even if he (my dad) was part of the Mafia I'd never know. I got totally suspicious of everyone (in our tiny cow town) and decided that the old guy who ran the barely functioning grocery store that never did any business (all the stock was dusty and half of it was expired) but still managed to stay open, was part of the mafia. I was sure anybody who went in there was part of the mafia too. I think I was 11 by the time I figured out my dad was full of shit, and the mafia would have no interest in a small farming town in rural MN.
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"If ten million people believe a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing."
- Anatole France
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