Pulp poems, book reviews, and other tidbits from the noirboiled world
Monday, July 1, 2013
Pulp Poem of the Week
I never knew a man with a conscience made a good con man. And I never knew a conscience to quit, either. If anything, it grows on you like some kind of Mesopotamian wart.
A: Excellent. I intend to read it again. B: Good. I might read it again. C: So-so. I didn't mind reading it. D: Bad. I resented reading it. F: Atrocious. I finished it only because I'm compulsive that way.
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