IVIV (1) Back at His Place Again
John Bailey
sundayjb at gmail.com
Sat Aug 29 00:29:16 CDT 2009
The Vomitones also have a band member simply named "Bad". He's
described as the band's "synthesizerist" which is a bit of a gag I
never noticed.
I really don't know if anyone should be pursuing possible meanings of
"bad" in Pynchon's novels, though.
On Sat, Aug 29, 2009 at 2:27 PM, David Payne<dpayne1912 at hotmail.com> wrote:
>
> On Fri, 28 Aug 2009 (17:22:59 -0700), Robin (robinlandseadel at comcast.net) wrote:
>
>> I know ther's a Flaco in Against the Day but doesn't Hector mention
>> Flaco the Bad in Vineland?
>
> There's a Shorty the Bad (sorry ... no page number available), and given Dave Monroe's take on "Flaco" (http://waste.org/mail/?list=pynchon-l&month=0908&msg=140707&sort=date), it may be the same guy:
>
> A strange trick of the light, no doubt, or else Zoyd was inopportunely hallucinating, but the highlights on each of Hector's eyeballs had vanished, the shine faded to matte surfaces that were now absorbing all light that fell on them. "You know what, I got to start thinkín about lunch. Do we have to keep playín fuck-fuck with this? Órale, get you the right judge, dig it! a nice minimum joint, a farm, you can grow vegetables? flowers, you people like flowers, right? All's I need, really Zoyd, is to know the story on this gentleman, a mutual contact I am sure, name of ... Shorty?"
>
> "Christ, Hector," croaking, shaking his head, "only Shorty I ever knew lives out in Hemet now and since his Vietnam days is takin' zero chances, won't even fly on the airplane no more, not too promising for you, outside of a little Darvon he cops off his ol' lady, he ain't even good for a Class III beef far 's I know."
>
> "That's him!" cried Hector, "that's the fucker all right, down in EPT they know him as Shorty the Bad, and it took supersnitch potential like yours to just break this case wi-i-i-ide open! Muy de aquellos, wait'll I tell my boss — you got a future in this business, ése!"
>
> It occurred to Zoyd more belatedly than usual that Hector could all along have been running some exercise in narc humor for his own entertainment. He risked, "Why this thing about popping my cherry, Hector, can't you see I have a kid to look after now, no choice, I had to turn into a straight citizen and go on the natch anymore, no time for these hardened criminal drug dealers I used to hang out with, I'm totally reformed, man."
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