Crime. Corruption. Murder. Scots.

Thanks to the comments on the backblog (see below), I realize I'm deeper into My Own Private Scotland that I previously thought.

Ray "The Big Blind" Banks? A Scot.

Primal Scream? Scots.

The tape on my desk? Scotch.

My favorite breakfast drink? Scotch.

I rest my case.

Today's used bookshop find: a copy of Dashiell Hammett's THE GLASS KEY, which is the Hammett novel that nobody remembers because it doesn't feature Spade or The Op. It's a 1961 Pocket Books edition whose swingin' cover art makes this 1931 novel seem like a lost Dean Martin flick.

The back cover:

CRIME
CORRUPTION
MURDER

Madvig leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "Maybe you're too big to take it lying down, Shad, but you'll take it."

Shad pointed a long white finger at Madvig and said, "I'm opening the Dog House again tonight and I don't want to be bothered. Bother me and I'll bother you!"

Madvig reached for the telephone. "Hello, Chief. Yes, fine. Say, Rainey, I hear Shad's thinking of opening again tonight... Yes... yes, slam it down so hard it bounces."

He pushed the telephone back. "Now do you understand how you stand? You're through, Shad. You're through here for good."

Which is oddly reminiscent of the phone conversation I had with my future father-in-law when I asked for his daughter's hand in marriage.