I ain’t ashamed. A fella’s gotta make up his mind what he’s tryin’ to do, and do it. Save the hangdog expression for confession and the judge. I put mine on like an off-the rack suit that one time. The weepy frown kept ridin’ up in the back, and I put it back in the closet forever. Man’s gotta order his affairs better’n that.
Who do you gotta kill to get a drink in this bucket of blood, anyway? Bad enough you hafta park your own car. The hatcheck girl looked like she should be ringin’ a bell in a tower. You can always tell when the owner of one of these joints is a schlub. You can’t give them your money.
We’re supposed to have made this deal already. I know the amateurs think a loud place is how it’s done, but this is ridiculous. They never learn that if the cops are even interested in listening, you’re already doing it wrong. Man should be able to stand up in a dump like this here and grab the mike from the greasy emcee and tell everyone in the joint what you’re doing, so what. Half are pisspant civilians and the other half are in on it somehow in any place you oughta show your face. Smart man gives the real world a pass.