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I watched Dirty Harry last night. I planned to just put it on the Roku and fall asleep, but I was captivated. Here was a guy who dresses basically like me when I’m trying to look like a dandy. Slacks, tweed coat with elbow patches, sweater vest with shirt and tie underneath. But Harry, he has a giant fucking gun and a mean disposition. Which is why I remain a dandy, and Dirty Harry remains a Dandy Badass.
It reminds me of a quote from Snowcrash:
“Until a man is twenty-five, he still thinks, every so often, that under the right circumstances he could be the baddest motherfucker in the world. If I moved to a martial arts monastery in China and studied real hard for ten years. If my family was wiped out by Colombian drug dealers and I swore myself to revenge. If I got a fatal disease, had one year to live, and devoted it to wiping out street crime. If I just dropped out and devoted my life to being bad.”
Of course, we both know, I’m now nearly 27, which means I have no such nefarious aspirations. Now I just want warm soup and Perry Mason. And maybe a snuggie.