By the way

Incidentally, and apropos of nothing at all, isn’t it fascinating to discover suddenly, at a relatively advanced age, a writer you love, and ought to have read years before?  How the hell did I get to damn near thirty without having read Raymond Chandler?

So if my blog posts start smelling like cold rain on a dirty road you’ll know who to blame.  But c'mon, how can you not love a writer who comes up with stuff like this:

Alcohol is like love. The first kiss is magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that you take the girl's clothes off.