<<I almost feel as if I had shat on Willeford's
grave.>>
If you kept your shoes clean, you can still boast of spotless
hardboiled
credentials. But the roscoe stays outside - you can leave it
at the
hat-check.
<<I apologize to Mario for taking him to task over this
"magical
realism" business.>>
No need to apologize. Just buy me a glassa muscatel.
<<I realize now that Mario is some kind of literary
smart guy..>>
You got the wrong guy, son. Smart, yes, but literary
smart?
<<and that "magical realism" is a worthwhile literary
investigation.>>
There are some great magical realists, or at least two -
also, a host of
bad imitators (Isabel Allende is one).
<<I'm not buying Willeford as a "magical realist,"
however. I'm going to
take Mario's offer up on the lottery gig -- and recommend
that we
shitcan the state-run lottery (rigged) for the old-timey,
honest
numbers-running of yesteryear.>>
Unfortunately, the Board of our Volunteer Fire Department
didn't accept
you as peace marshal of the bingo. Frankly, I don't think
they really
gave you a chance.
Best,
MT
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