The first ever blockbuster. Began Steven Spielberg’s career. That legendary musical score. Had Robert Shaw in it.

Yes… I’m talkin’ Jaws.

Where to start, right? This was the movie that gave us the “summer blockbuster.” It also began the long series of “nature gone angry” genre films such as, The Swarm, Day of the Animals, Piranha, and of course…Grizzly.

Now that I write that, I have to wonder if I should praise Jaws, or condemn it for what it brought into the world. Naw… just joshing. I have to praise this movie. It’s one of the best films ever done. My sister, four years older than me, got to see this film before I did. I wanted desperately to see it. I mean, it had a friggin’ SHARK in it attacking people, right? EVERYONE was talking about it. It was HUGE. Anyway, my sister told my mother that it was a film that was perfectly appropriate for a ten-year-old boy to see. Happily for me, my sister was off her nut. In the end, my mother agreed to let me go and off we went to the local movie house.

[If Mom only knew...]

The Devil Doesn’t Want Me is a humorous noir novella by Eric Beetner, recent recipient of the Stalker Award for Most Criminally Underrated Author (available October 23, 2012).

I’ve never done one of these Fresh Meat things before, and was a bit nervous about it. I mean, giving my opinion when it’s asked for is something new to me. I’m fine when it’s NOT asked for… in fact, I’m in a whole ’nother realm when I give unasked for advice. But after reading Eric Beetner’s new novella, The Devil Doesn’t Want Me, I was certainly glad I got the opportunity. Why?

Because this is an incredibly fun and awesome book, that’s why.

[Do tell...]

There was I was, sitting in my latest favorite bar in the city, Held Up in Traffic, when the door opened and in walked a Russian secret agent, an old mobster, and a Nazi zombie.

Yeah, I know. Sounds like the beginning to a bad joke. Work with me here, yeah?

I looked at them, then back at my drink. What the hell had the ’tender put in my glass? I blinked. Nope. They were still there. Blinked again.

No go.

This was real.

[Really really real?]

So there I sat, at the stick in my latest hangout, The End of Times, having another Scotch on the rocks. The guy on the stool next to mine reminded me of Orson Wells during his “We will sell no wine before its time” Paul Masson phase. For some reason, this guy kept looking over at my drink and snickering. After he did it about five times, I turned to him and said, “Something funny, Orson?”

He didn’t get the reference, only smirked at my drink again. It was then that I noticed he was drinking something clear, with no rocks. “What’s that,” I inquired, nodding at his glass. “Everclear?”

[Pick your poison...]

This post was going to be all about the fun 1980s TV show Crime Story, starring the awesome Dennis Farina as Lt. Mike Turello, the man with the +3 Moustache of Broomness. However, after reacquainting myself with the show, I just couldn’t do it. Yes, it’s still a ton of fun, and still holds up in a lot of ways. But, no, it didn’t hold up well enough, in my opinion, to where I could do an honest post extolling its virtues, etc.

So, instead, I decided to write about the ONE part of the show that still kicks major ass, even by the major ass kicking standards of today.

And that, my friends, is the series pilot.

[When was the last time you saw a pilot better than the show?]

“So,” said the lovely dame sitting next to me, “what really is Noir?” Smiled as she said it. Like she knew she was setting me up. A level of mirth on par with seeing me nude for the first time.

I sat there quietly, looking at my glass. Tried to find a good answer. All of my literary heroes were, and still are, Noir writers. But, damnit, what really constitutes “Noir” writing and stories?

It was a bitch of a question, and that was a fact.

[But, dammit, we’ll try to answer it anyway.]

So there I sat, on my couch, having just pushed the “stop” button on the remote.

I had been, as they say, raptured.

Why? Because I had just finished all six discs of the first season of what was THE most groundbreaking cop show of the 1970’s (’73 – ’77). Maybe the most freakin’ groundbreaking cop show ever.

Police Story.

Created as an anthology series for TV by the greatest cop writer ever, Joseph Wambaugh, this show was tough and gritty, with realism not ever seen before. I mean, before this we had Adam 12 with their plastic but fun cops, Martin Milner and Kent McCord. They were awesome and all that, but really… it’s like using your GI Joe and a Ken doll to ride the streets of late 60’s Los Angeles to fight crime.

Plas-tic.

[Not to mention the Barbie dolls that went with those Ken dolls.]

It was a late, rainy afternoon in the city as I sat at the stick belonging to my new favorite watering hole. The name of the joint was My Wit’s End, and that made me laugh…

“Where are you, honey?” she said.

“I’m at My Wit’s End!”  he replied.

I’d changed bars because I’d given Bill and The Cornerstone the ol’ heave-ho (for very good reasons you can find here).  In front of me on the on the gashed, burnt, and scarred stick lay a copy of Brian Garfield’s brilliant crime novel, Death Wish. I’d finished it earlier in the morning, after finding an old 1974 copy from Coronet Books, London, on teh Internetz Tubez. I was very happy to find that the book was every bit as enjoyable as the movie. If you can track down a copy, and there are still some 1989 editions left here and there, you will not be disappointed. Trust me on this.

[If you’re lyin’, you’re dyin’...]