GOT NOIR? ~ By Absolutely*Kate of Harbinger*33

GOT NOIR?
~ by Absolutely*Kate

From stylish crime dramas where come hither sensuality and cynicism on the rat-a-tat-tat shoot out their shadowy flings . . .  where grifters, coppers, dicks and pugilists pull punches and punchlines . . . this enticing genre spans decades of tough talkin' flatfoots and daunting dames who flaunt ~~ well, what dames should flaunt to keep their daunting on the up and up. I mean what's a dame without her up and up to ooze a come hither? Low-key lighting swirls mighty minds in mist or fog as the mystique of visual style transports police procedures, lingering glances, dark alleys  and opening chances to open and shut cases . . . or are they?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hello there. Cop a seat. Sit a spell. My name's Nelle. I'm a Private*Eye with a penchant for winking trouble's way. I can load a luger or lead-on a loser before I look over my shoulder, come the end of a coffee and doughnut day. That's how they come at you. When you least expect it. But you knew that. You're no flimflam or run-of-the-mill chump. You're Jake. And stories? Every sucker behind the eight ball's got a soppy one. You think they're on the up and up? No way Buster Brown. Not even when those bums hit the pavement and eyeball their bottom dollar, sucking last breaths with their puss down. Every bird is workin' an angle. My job? Cut through some con's shadow, lift the chenille curtain corner on a little mist, let some truth shine in for the chippies and the chopper squad ~ you know, menfolk who measure themselves by how big their machine guns really are. Yeah. You get my drift. Everyone's a dreamer. And everyone wants to grill their beef. They amble in to me when they don't know the diff and wanta get someplace where they're not. In a jiff. You can see 'em comin' like butter and eggs men. You know the type, the rubes and yokels who flash big wads in nifty nightclubs and wonder what hit 'em on a not so nifty night. Usually it was a 45.

1945. The world's got a whole new spin. Me and Jake, who was Jake -- we used to drink out of the same bottle. You know, we were real close friends, pitching the woo. Well, til the floozy in the glad rags. She was no satin doll though. I'll tell you that. But I don't wanta get into that now. Boy oh boy was I miffed. I did want to tell Jake Devlin to dust off, to git and take his dang gat with him. But there was a flaw to my fine falutin' thinkin' there. There's always trouble when you think a real good idea is the one hot potato that's gonna bounce you from the bumps on the rough stretches of the lonesome highways. The trouble with watching Jake's trench trudge out my door was ~ well, he's still my partner. And his uncle Harvey, he's our landlord. Gee whiz, I like Uncle Harvey. It's his nephew now that's janglin' all my nerves like bangtails at the Belmont at post-time.

(c) 2010 ~ Author Absolutely*Kate

Exclusive AT THE BIJOU premiere

Film-Photo  "The Big Combo", 1955

I've got more to tell you. 

It was real nice meeting you folks. 

BACKATCHA, NEXT TUESDAY

HERE *AT THE BIJOU*

A REAL SWELL JOINT

GOT SOME PALS

TO INTRODUCE YOU TO FIRST:

NOIR PALS ~

You know Beetner and Brazill?

DeeDee and Sam?

Sanderford and Payne?

Michaels and Venutolo?

R E A D   O N

( in the following NOIR presentation ) 

For a rundown on this Absolutely*Kate author/captain/promoter and believer in believers though, you genuinely need to sail over to the Pamila Payne "COMRADES" section of VINTAGE VICE. ~ It exceeds "quite nice". I thank her, wholeheartedly of course.  

~ Absolutely*Kate