I was poking around Lee Goldberg's blog the other day, and ran across a Newsweek piece called "Hot Sex, Gory Violence", which detailed Lee's work on a timelessly classic men's adventure series, .357 Vigilante.
I'd only read a few lines when I was shocked to realize that I had read this piece when it came out. 21 years ago.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I was a big fan of the Mack Bolan, "The Executioner" series back then, and when I stumbled across the article in a doctor's office waiting room I read it. At that time Lee was a disaffected college student who, instead of partying or dating, spent his time writing about a man with a large, loaded, concealed weapon. Not that he was afraid to show it off, if necessary.
Worse yet, this article brought back memories of my first regrettable foray into the world of literature, a parody (God help me) of The Executioner. This thing truly, madly, deeply sucked, and I had forgotten it so thoroughly that I can't even remember what crappy title I gave it.
In fact, the only thing I can remember about it is a scene in which the bumbling "hero" is charged by a crowd of evil henchmen. No problem, he just pulls out his trusty MAC-1000 - which discharges its sixty rounds of 9mm parabellum (notice the technical detail!) in less than one-tenth of a second, turning one of the bad guys into hamburger and leaving the good guy to face the rest holding a poorly designed steel club.
I'm frightened at the other memories that may still be lurking around in my subconscious, like a whodunnit where the killer clue is a clown's oversized shoes... Gah!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
