She Walked In With Legs As Long As The Mighty Mississipp

The gloriously blunt, debauched, fantastical world of pulp - which spawned film noir - is getting the treatment from some two-bit mug and he went and got himself on the radio.

Boy if I had a nickel for every time some skirt walked through my door and got me mixed up in a mess of guns, booze, and dames, I'd be sitting in an ivory tower on Park Avenue. Instead, I'm down here in the muck, running this two-bit operation, slurping down absinthe like I'm Ernest Hemingway. Of all the luck. And the next time some cheap floozy tries to get her hooks into me, I'll give her the lug. It'll be curtains for her and all the other bozos. And if I don't, well, that's half the adventure. Anything for a buck, Mac. Anything for a buck.