I am an outlaw, I was born an outlaw’s son
The highway is my legacy
On the highway I will run
In one hand I’ve a Bible
In the other I’ve got a gun
— Outlaw Man, The Eagles

I wonder sometimes about the media’s apparent fascination with mobsters and motorcycle gang members. I suppose it is a reflection of society’s fascination with those characters — we see mobsters glorified in film and literature, even if they do ultimately end up facing justice or get blown away by rogues like them.

I had to handle (i.e. edit) a piece for my paper’s website this week about a reputed Montreal mobster in his 60s who was gunned down by assassins in Mexico. It was big news in our city. We gave it prominent play, as we always do with mob-related or motorcycle gang-related news. When I was going through our photo archives to add some pictures to the article, I was struck by how handsome the dead man had been, both as a young man and in his later years. Read: hunk. My heart melted: he had such gorgeous eyes, and he didn’t look fearsome in the least. Au contraire, he looked like a nice guy — even if he had served time for the death of a drug dealer. I thought, ‘you know, I might have dated him, if I had had the chance. I might have been comfortable in the role of a mobster’s moll.’

I felt pretty much the same way a while back when handling an article about a former Hell’s Angel who took his own life as the police closed in on him. He had escaped from prison, and I guess he preferred to die rather than go back. He, too, was handsome, with soulful eyes. . . I might have dated him . . .

There must have been something in both of these men worth loving . . . After all, if there is a God, it loves them regardless of their misdeeds . . .

Woman, don’t try to love me
Don’t try to understand
A life upon the road is the life of an outlaw man
— Outlaw Man, The Eagles