Word: thins
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...woman stared at Nunheim dully and said, "I don't like crooks, and even if I did. I wouldn't like crooks who are stool pigeons, and even if I liked crooks who are stool pigeons. I wouldn't like you." Dashiell Hammett, The Thin...
...intervening years he was a detective, an invalid and one of Faulkner's drinking partners. He annoyed Hemingway, raised the wrath of the McCarthyites, fought in two wars, went to jail and revolutionized the now well-known genre of detective fiction. From Red Harvest through The Maltese Falcon. The Thin Man and a hundred more short stories, he developed and became the epitome of the hard-boiled but literate writer. He started with short stories in H.L. Mencken's The Smart Set, the home of such luminaries as Fitzgerald and Lewis, Huxley and Maugham, and ended up with the federal...
Even while critics hailed him as Hemingway's equal, Hammett was losing his drive and his touch. He discovered that he could live handsomely off subsidiary rights. The Thin Man (1934) was his last and most careless novel; it ultimately brought him almost $1 million from film and radio serializations. Hollywood kept recycling his material; the 1941 version of The Maltese Falcon, with Humphrey Bogart and Sidney Greenstreet, was the third film based on that book in ten years. Hammett had always shown a streak of to-hell-with-it independence, and success made him increasingly reckless. He partied...
...warm-ups are simple, designed to pump blood into muscles so they will bulge angrily--curis with dumbbells, push-ups, chins. For many, it's their first contest, and they're not sure quite what to do, but they know the baby oil is key. Their handlers rub a thin film all over, not too much or they'll look greasy, but enough so the light will catch all the little hollows and ridges. One at a time they come out from the improvised dressing room, and their friends holler...
...keep barbells from crashing through the floor. Inside, everything is sweaty, and but for the air-conditioning it would be sweatier still. I knew Bob in grade school, said "hi" when we passed in the hall in high school. He was a funny, pleasant guy, not really smart, thin and wiry, not big enough for most sports, but tough. Mostly he liked to horse around. Not anymore. Now he lives in the gym, with twice-a-day workouts, long exhausting regimens of pulling and pushing and lifting. Every few minutes he stops to check one muscle or another...