Monday, July 17, 2006


Brother Richard and JJ bring out your dead news and get the point. The Associated Press reports:
Mickey Spillane, the macho mystery writer who wowed millions of readers with the shoot-‘em-up sex and violence of gumshoe Mike Hammer, died Monday. He was 88.

Spillane’s death was confirmed by Brad Stephens of Goldfinch Funeral Home in his hometown of Murrells Inlet, S.C. Details about his death were not immediately available.

After starting out in comic books Spillane wrote his first Mike Hammer novel, "I, the Jury," in 1946. Twelve more followed, with sales topping 100 million. Notable titles included "The Killing Man," "The Girl Hunters" and "One Lonely Night."
"I have no fans," Spillane once said. "You know what I got? Customers."


Anonymous said...

The Big Kill:
It was one of those nights when the sky came down and wrapped itself around the world. The rain clawed at the windows of the bar like an angry cat and tried to sneak in every time some drunk lurched in the door. The place reeked of stale beer and soggy men with enough cheap perfume thrown in to make you sick.
Two drunks with a nickel between them were arguing over what to play on the juke box until a tomato in a dress that was too tight a year ago pushed the key that started off something noisy and hot. One of the drunks wanted to dance and she gave him a shove. So he danced with the other drunk.
She saw me sitting there with my stool tipped back against the cigarette machine and change of a fin on the bar, decided I could afford a wet evening for two and walked over with her hips waving hello.
"You're new around here, ain't ya?"
"Nah. I've been here since six o'clock."
"Buy me a drink?" She crowded in next to me, seeing how much of herself she could plaster against my legs.
"No." It caught her by surprise and she quit rubbing.
"Don't gentlemen usually buy ladies a drink?" she said. She tried to lower her eyelids seductively but one came down farther than the other and made her look stupid.
"I'm not a gentleman, kid."
""I ain't a lady either so buy me a drink."
So I bought her a drink. A jerk in a discarded army overcoat down at the end of the bar was getting the eye from the bartender because he was nursing the last drop in his glass, hating to go outside in the rain, so I bought him a drink too.
The bartender took my change with a frown. "Them bums'll bleed you to death, feller."
"I don't have any blood left," I told him. The dame grinned and rubbed herself against my knees some more.
"I bet you got plenty of everything for me."
"Yeah, but what I got you ain't getting because you probably got more than me."
"Forget it."
She looked at my face a second, then edged away. "You ain't very sociable, mister."

Yeah, the dude could write.

Anonymous said...

Did you know he used to write for Marvel Comics in the early days?

"How c-could you?" she gasped.
I only had a moment before talking to a corpse, but I got it in.
"It was easy," I said.