Ass-Headed Bottom: What's not to like about "The Thin Man," at least the ones written by Dashiell? Here's Hollywood's pinnacle, back in 1939, complete with multiple pencil-thin waxed mustaches, slightly-zaftig-always-hot Myrna Loy in history's pimpingest fur coat, an insulting Mexican goon named Dum-Dum, an adorable terrier made to do flips, even legitimately funny jokes and sexual tension like only early Hollywood divided beds can provide. Hey, this is what I watch movies for, remember? Not to massage my pseudo-intellect, not to afford myself yet another superfluous opportunity to be a critic, not to learn anything. Fuck all that shit, man; it's about entertainment. I'm naming my first kid Dashiell (second one Asta).
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