Amsh Mafia - The Cast of Characters

As a quick introduction to the show, I think it's best if we start with a quick Who's Who of the Amish Mafia.

Let's start with "Lebanon Levi" - called that because every good crime boss has to have a catchy name.  According to the official website of the show, he's described as "an Amish insider who holds the power and serves as protector of the community...  FOR A PRICE."  (Emphasis mine.)

Lebanon Levi claims there is no such thing as the Amish Mafia, even though he has signed on to star in a show called "Amish Mafia".

Obviously one scary dude.

 Interestingly enough, the Amish church agrees:

 

So everyone agrees that the Amish Mafia is imaginary.

Levi was not baptized Amish.  So, in essence, the head of the imaginary Amish Mafia is not even a member of the Amish church.

When Lebanon Levi isn't running his imaginary Amish Mafia, he apparently dresses in normal clothes and works in construction. 

From what I can tell, the Amish do not like dealing with outsiders, whom they call "English", so they go to Lebanon Levi and pay him monthly to take care of hospital bills, buggy repairs, etc.  So they have their own little commune and Lebanon Levi sort of acts as the insurance man and banker.

Next, we are introduced to Levi's foot-soldier Jolin, who is a Mennonite.

This "Amish Mafia" is turning out to not be very Amish.  

Mennonites can use electricity and drive cars, which comes in very handy.  He also gets to dress differently, which I think means he doesn't have to wear a hat.  Jolin is shown with a pump shotgun and a high powered rifle, which is supposed to make us think he's a badass.

I'll SHOW you what happens if you steal my butter churn, BITCH.

And compared to the next guy, I've got to admit he is.

Let's meet John.

This is John.

This is John's scooter.  It has a little metal basket.  He will run your ass down with it.  And then you can, I don't know... giggle at him.

Scooter-John is less of a foot-soldier and more of an errand boy.  But he has lofty goals.  We'll get to those later.  Scooter-John also has not been baptized in the Amish church.

Moving on, we have Alvin.

Just sayin'.

Alvin is one of the Three Stooges.  Sorry, I guess that's just the unfortunate haircut.  Alvin is actually Lebanon Levi's right-hand-man.  We are told that you can't get to Levi without going through Alvin.  We're also told he doesn't talk much, but when he does speak, you kind of expect him to say, "I'm Larry, this is my brother Darryl, and this is my other brother Darryl."  They show him carrying around a baseball bat and hitting a buggy with it.  We'll call him Alvin-At-The-Bat for the sake of clarity.

No mention is made yet of whether or not Alvin-At-The-Bat is Amish, Mennonite or Imaginary-Amish.

Next, we have Esther.  Oh, Esther, where do I even begin with you?  Esther is Scooter-John's sister.

I have a sneaking suspicion that if she didn't live in a community where women really have no more social standing than the hogs they slop, Esther would be running this whole damn imaginary mafia.  If you ran her buggy off the road, you'd likely find a horse head in your bed.

That's right, boys.  I'm all that AND a bag of chips.

But the Amish world doesn't work like that, so Esther continues to clean the house.  She also flirts with Levi, even though she has a thing for Badass-Jolin.  Esther isn't officially part of the Amish church, either.

 

Another interesting character who enters the picture is Alan.

They call me Black Amish, yo.  Even though I'm Mennonite.  A racist and innacurate nickname is okay, though, 'cause they're Amish and they usually do it in Dutch.

Alan was born in Brooklyn.  His mother took him to the Mennonite colony and then when he was nine years old a Mennonite family adopted him.  He calls himself Levi's Event Coordinator.  He puts together softball games and parties to make money for Levi.

Esther says that Black Amish Alan is into some really, really bad stuff that she shouldn't talk about.  Perhaps he fixes the softball games. HA HA! Just kidding!  He's in trouble for traffic violations and may have smoked some weed and got caught with a gun.  

Fun Fact:  the Amish call marijuana "green corn."

Lastly, we have Merlin. 

I just really wish he wore a wizard hat.

Merlin is the head of the Amish Mafia in Holmes, Ohio.   No word on whether it's a real mafia or an imaginary mafia.  One thing you can be sure of is that he is absolutely crazy.  He's in Pennsylvania to take over because he doesn't like the way Lebanon Levi runs things.

And from here, now that we know who we're dealing with, things can get interesting.

 

Amish Mafia - Introduction

I love a LOT of reality TV shows. 

My favorite types of shows fall into two categories.  

First, shows that peek into the lives of the rich and richer. The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and anything Kardashian come to mind, because my GOD I love their closets and shoes and houses and the insane way they throw around money.  And while I think a lot of their drama is, how would you say, "encouraged" by the show's producers (come on, does anyone believe that Kourtney Kardashian ever had a serious problem with coupon clipping taking over her life?), it's mindless, fun entertainment.  

The second category would be shows that are just so bizarre that you wonder what in the world the participants were thinking by signing up.  And how in the world the show producers came up with anything so bizarre.

So when my friend, Kristiana (names changed to protect the innocent), casually mentioned the other day that she was sitting down with her husband to watch Amish Mafia (on the Discovery channel!?!), the pretense was so ridiculous that I might have peed myself just a little tiny bit laughing.  I was also out of town at the time and almost couldn't wait to get back home and watch this show.

Amish MAFIA?  Like, mafia as in crime bosses and broken thumbs and cement shoes and a secret underworld?  Could this be serious?  As in, Chicago?  And Scarface?  And guys named 'Thumbs' and 'Joey the Jackknife"?

So I came home from my trip, logged onto discovery.com and watched the first few episodes of Amish Mafia and thought I would have a little fun blogging about them. 

What I found was that upon the first viewing, was that I'm going to have to watch that ALL again.  The insane level of facets to these people's lives are each going to require their own introductory blog before I can even get into the crux of the show, which is, by the way, RIDICULOUS.

Prepare yourselves for an in-depth look into the underground world of illicit booze and laundry parties, prostitution, a secret subculture of men who have "Pimp my Buggy" contests, pitchfork throwing(?), Amish boxing events, "green corn" (known to you and me as marijuana), tattoos, hanging undergarments on a clothesline too close to the neighbors, buggy tipping and even rigged buggy races.  (Buggies are a big part of the Amish culture, unless they're in a hurry to get somewhere, in which case they hire a cab.  Or an airplane, in extreme circumstances.)

Until next time, when I delve into each character so we have a chance of keeping these people straight.

Good Morning

I should tell you, I sleep with pillow pets.  

You know pillow pets?  They're a small pillow made for kids.  They're fluffy and furry and have little heads and tails attached to them like a stuffed animal.  They come in the shape and color of dogs and cats and penguins and I don't know what else.

And they're really cute.  Which is why I like to sleep with them.  And I don't just have one.  I have, like, seven or eight pillow pets.  They're small.  So sometimes one isn't enough.  Like potato chips.

All of my pillow pets are dogs.  Because I really love dogs.  

I actually have three of my own dogs.  They're all rescue mutts.  Small to medium sized.  And you'd think, "Well, you have three real dogs.  And you still need, like, eight stuffed dog pillows to sleep with?  You're a nut, lady."

And I'd be, like, "Yeah."  It's true.  I am a nut and I have learned to embrace my weirdness.

But my dogs actually won't sleep in the bed with me.  They're weird and neurotic, just like I am.  

You hear about people who can't sleep at night because their dog takes up half the bed and from what I understand, that's pretty normal.  But my dogs aren't normal.  I've spent years trying to get them to sleep in the bed with me, but they won't.  It's ridiculous.  

So I sleep with pillow pets instead.  And my husband puts up with this.  To tell the truth, I bought one pillow pet and he bought me the rest.

That's how you know if someone loves you, by the way.  They put up with and even encourage your weird shit.

I also have nightmares.  All the time.  So I don't really like to sleep. 

But the other morning, I woke up in such a horrible way that it made me want to go back to the bad dream I was having.

I don't want to bore you with a ridiculous dream, but I'll just give you bits so you have the context of what I was going through.

So...  In my dream, I'm a supermodel.  I'm rail-thin and elegant.  

I know.  It doesn't sound so bad, right?  

I'm walking down the runway in this really awesome white hand-beaded and fringed dress.

And I look down, and the dress is a mess.  I've gotten my period and it's soaking in blood.  And you'd think I'd be horrified at all of the people in the audience watching me, right?  But I don't care at all about the people.  All I can think is that they're going to make me pay for the dress and it retails for $6000 dollars.

So I decide that if I just finish my walk down the runway like nothing is wrong, maybe nobody will notice and I can get to a washing machine and wash the dress.

Because it's logical to throw a bloody $6000 dress into a washing machine and expect it to be just like new and nobody will notice.

So the catwalk thing goes fine.  I am a rockstar and I pull it off.  And I get backstage and it's a maze of hallways and staircases and I run around and I find a dishwasher.  And I decide that will work.  Because it's logical to throw a bloody $6000 dress into a dishwasher and.... yeah.

That's when my ex appears.  And I'm all, "Look.  I have a dress I'm busy with here and I've had enough therapy about you that you're not supposed to show up in my dreams anymore."  Apparently at this point I know I'm dreaming.

And this asshole reaches out and grabs me by the shoulders and starts shaking me.  And I'm kind of scared, because this guy has beat me up before.

But, back to reality - it's okay.  I've had therapy.  And now I'm in a happy marriage.  

I just want you to understand how bad this dream is.  It's gone from worrying about how to clean a dress to being shaken like a rag doll by this douchecanoe.  So you've got the context, right?  Waking up should be a good thing, right?

So I wake up.  And I'm still shaking.  Or, more precisely, I'm still being shook.

Well... the bed is shaking.
So, my husband, the guy I mentioned who puts up with me?  He'd gotten up earlier than I had and wasn't in bed.  So it wasn't him shaking the bed. 

I roll halfway over and fling my arm up into my pile of pillow pets and I realize one of my small dogs has actually gotten into bed with me.  And it takes me a minute, but I start to realize what's going on.  And this is unacceptable.  

The dog is humping a pillow pet.  Or maybe all of them, like an orgy.  I don't know.  That's what's shaking the bed.  

And... it dawns on me that I don't know what to do.

That whole thing where male dogs get the humps?  And it's like their doggie wieners have taken over their whole body?  And they're possessed by this non-stop humping passion that they can't even seem to control? 

I'm laying there in the bed, being shaken by a small dog humping a pile of pillow pets asking myself what the options are for dealing with the problem.  And I can't really think of any.  

Should I pick the dog up and throw him out of bed?  I know if I do that, his hind quarters will just continue to hump the dog bed or whatever is on the floor because he's really in auto-hump mode.  Yelling at him probably isn't going to work any better.

And I'm kind of embarrassed.  For the dog.  Even a little for the pillow pets.  At this point I'm leaning towards ignoring the whole situation.

So my mind starts to wander.  

I'm thinking to myself that the dog has been neutered and I don't understand why neutering a dog doesn't keep this kind of thing from happening.  I'm actually a little annoyed with the veterinarian.  Like he really didn't do his job well enough.

I start to wonder... if the dog knew if I was awake, would he be embarrassed?  Then I laugh to myself and think it's going to be a funny story when I go downstairs and tell my husband.

And then...  

And then.

I feel this...   

spray.  Of wetness.

Across my face.  Specifically, my left eye.

And suddenly I am MORE AWAKE THAN I HAVE EVER BEEN BEFORE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.

There's this physical response happening.  I am afraid to open my eyes.  I'm throwing up in my mouth a little.  I need to make it to the bathroom sink to wash my face, but I'm freaked out and disoriented.

But far worse is the mental response.  My brain is thinking things that no human should ever have to think.

I literally have the thought that I'm happy the dog was neutered because that means there aren't dog sperm trying to get in my eye.  And now I love the veterinarian.  I might hump the veterinarian.

Then I wonder just what the hell is in my eye.  Without his nuts, what could be all over my face?  After a dog loses his testicles and has this ridiculous humping thing happen, does he urinate a little bit, maybe?  

And I feel RELIEVED.  That maybe I have dog pee on my face.  And I'm struck by the thought... once again... that no human should ever have to feel relieved that they might have dog pee on their face.

I trip over one of the other dogs on my frantic run to the bathroom sink and fly forehead-first into the bathroom counter.  These fucking dogs are in on this thing together.