I really believed that I was the baddest man on the planet. I was kicking Don’s ass thinking I was f*cking John Gotti over here. Don used to try to get me to go see a doctor. He’d say, “Mike, you need to go see a psychiatrist, brother. Something ain’t right here.” He actually got me to see Dr. Alvin Poussaint, Bill Cosby’s guy, a distinguished professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School. He was a real erudite didactic guy. Poussaint asked me what my problem was and I starting saying crazy sh*t to him. “F*ck it. I don’t care about living and dying, I don’t give a f*ck.” That guy was so bourgeois and regal he made me sick to my stomach. He got the f*ck away though. He ran out of the house and never came back.
When I think about all the horrific things that Don has done to me over the years, I still feel like killing him. He’s such a liar and betrayer. He’s not a tough guy. He’d never been a tough guy. All the tough-guy things he’s done have been through him paying someone to do it for him.
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