Ron Goulart > Quotes

“Aw senor," said the robot pimp disdainfully.”
― Ron Goulart, TekWar

“...his house was large and strived to be impressive. It had a lot of glass and redwood in its makeup and was obviously designed by someone who idolized Frank Lloyd Wright without quite grasping his basic principles.”
― Ron Goulart, Groucho Marx, Master Detective

“Captain Marryat’s”
― Ron Goulart, The Enormous Hourglass

“Easy strode to the back door. “Call the Kearny Detective Agency up in SF and ask them to go talk to the Levin girl. Also get them to check on Jill’s Porsche, see if the cops have picked it up anyplace in San Francisco.” He opened the door.”
― Ron Goulart, Too Sweet to Die

“I wasn’t grown up then and I wasn’t Lady Day and I got away. I’ve been aware, since then, of how it is. You can kill people, right in the street, right in the open, for simply trying to get what’s due. All you have to say is you’re the authority and they’re the riot. Well, killing isn’t just yours anymore. Sometime maybe, when all this is mine, Frisco Enclave and all, then maybe nobody will get killed for wanting food. Nobody will get shot down or gassed by men, men in uniform. That’s what’s coming. How does that sound, you poor son of a bitch of a cop?”
― Ron Goulart, After Things Fell Apart

“Partial cover image courtesy of: cheyenne75.deviantart.com stiks-1969.deviantart.com”
― Ron Goulart, After Things Fell Apart

“There’s a possibility she’s been spending time over in San Ignacio, at a place called the Maybe Club.” “Ah,” said Hagopian. “Joanna’s hitting a better-class rotten and rundown dive these days. The Maybe Club is a high-class sewer.” He trotted off, still in sweatsocks and no shoes, to a new row of files. “Here. A write-up from the San Ignacio Pilot weekend section a couple months back.” He unfolded a full tabloid page and gave it to Easy. “ ‘Controversial Club’s Owner Defends Liberal Views,’ ” Easy read the headline. “Is he in politics, too?” “He thinks it’s okay to screw other peoples’ mates,” explained Hagopian. “In San Ignacio that’s a pretty liberal view.” Easy looked at the photo of the Maybe proprietor leaning against the bar in his club. “This is Sunny Boy Sadler. …” “Right, onetime singing cowboy of the B movies,” said Hagopian. “I spent many happy afternoons in the Forties with his films. Little did I realize then that Sunny Boy was usually so juiced they had to practically glue him to his horse.”
― Ron Goulart, The Same Lie Twice

“Removing the socks and wringing them out over the Los Angeles Times, Hagopian said, “People play wacky games in these parts. I’ve been wondering if there isn’t some new kind of wackiness virus, something that the screwed-up air around LA causes to form. The wackiness strain, first it takes over greater Los Angeles and then it slowly creeps across the country. I myself am immune to it, but that’s no help if everyone else comes down with it. The government”
― Ron Goulart, The Same Lie Twice

“Glanzman is enigmatic. Half of me is a nice lovable paternal type, the other a hardnose and cunning tummler. Against my better judgment I’ll listen to my lovable side.” “Let’s both listen.”
― Ron Goulart, Too Sweet to Die

“of the horses tethered to the hitching rack was real, the other a fairly believable robot sim. “You can tell when they crap,” said a bearded old-timer who was leaning next to the saloon’s louvered swinging doors. “Which is real, you mean?” “Yup.” He winked at Zack, returned his attention to rolling a cigarette. “See, you can fake a horse pretty easy. But faking horseshit is a real challenge. Somewheres in there is maybe a moral.”
― Ron Goulart, Upside Downside

“I suppose that was an old-fashioned stereotyped female thing to do. Tidying up before letting you in.”
― Ron Goulart

“Imagine a nice Jewish cunt running a blue movie palace. The seventies are going to be another schmucky decade.”
― Ron Goulart, Too Sweet to Die

“Well, this is the town for it. The suicide capital of the world,” said the dark writer. “Some of them come here and go nutty, while others come out here with the sole ambition of giving me tsurris. The rest want to jump off a bridge.” “San Francisco’s the town for that.”
― Ron Goulart, Too Sweet to Die

“I’m not Nat. I’m Nat’s Garbage Service. That is, I’m the only surviving member.” “A music group?” “The music group,” said the old man. “We got the Grammy in 1972. You wouldn’t remember our big ones I guess. Flowers Growing In The Cracks and Fragmented Syntaptic Authenticated Hallucinogenic Anthrax?”
― Ron Goulart, After Things Fell Apart

“never had one when I was a kid.” She pointed with her free hand. “Over that way. No, over there actually. Over there across the Bay is Oakland. You know where 7th and Central is?” “No.” “Good for you then. That is where I grew up, in that vicinity. Now I’m practically a superstar.”
― Ron Goulart, Too Sweet to Die

“Easy pulled Poncho to him, slammed him against the wall again. A Maxfield Parrish print of dawn fell off its hook. “You brought her here Saturday.”
― Ron Goulart, Too Sweet to Die

“Jake Pace was in the kitchen baking cookies and his wife was in their large living room playing Mozart on the banjo.”
― Ron Goulart, Brainz, Inc.

“trap for us. They knew I had Steranko”
― Ron Goulart, Big Bang

“Oof,” replied Easy, trying to loosen the clutch she had on his penis. “Say,” noticed Judy, “you’ve got an erection.” “People keep telling me that.” “Obviously you’re not a rat then. You find me attractive.” “It’s a simple reflex, ma’am. Anybody who rubbed my leg could produce a similar result.” “You’re ducking the issue.” She stroked the head of his penis twice more and let go.”
― Ron Goulart, If Dying Was All

“I was figuring on dropping in on William Blake this afternoon,”
― Ron Goulart, The Enormous Hourglass

“I specialize in famous stout ladies, past and present. I’m best known for my Sophie Tucker. You look almost old enough to remember the late great Sophie, God rest her soul.”
― Ron Goulart, Too Sweet to Die

“Your living or dying is just a piss in the ocean.”
― Ron Goulart, Upside Downside

“You ever hear of an old-time actor named James Coburn?”
― Ron Goulart, After Things Fell Apart

“You can probably also call it poetic justice, even though it doesn’t rhyme.”
― Ron Goulart, Groucho Marx and the Broadway Murders

“Ted rasped his tongue over his upper teeth. “Is Haley home yet?” He found he had a strong compulsion to blink. “No, nope, she’s not,” replied the speaker mechanism in the computerized bed. “Would you like a cup of coffee-like cereal beverage or perhaps some nice warm soymilk?” Ted kept blinking, rubbing at his eyes. “What the hell did you spray in my eyes instead of antipollution mist?” “Golly, I’m not sure. Could it have been, maybe, protein-rich hair conditioner? I’m doing my best, but I really do need a tuneup. You haven’t had a house mechanic in for a long time, you know.” “We’re on the damn waiting list. They can’t come till April 22, 2021. Next year.”
― Ron Goulart, Nemo

“Iola, Wisconsin is one of the safest towns in the entire country,” he assured her. “A recent survey in the National Intruder listed it among—”
― Ron Goulart, Brainz, Inc.

“Baxter snatched up the automatic typewriter and plumped it into Pinemont’s broad lap, slapping the mike into the big writer’s fat hands. “The sun is pasted to the burning sky like a scarlet cookie,” dictated the bearded man. “A scarlet sugar cookie. Buzzards circle far off. We slowly, ever so
slowly, truck across the heat crazed sands of Old California. The birds swoop and we, with stunning impact, zoom in. Zoom with dazzling speed and lock in on a tight shot of… of… horse cock.” “Don Diego,” supplied Baxter. “The hero’s name is Don Diego.” “Don Diego. His hand reaches up and slowly, ever so slowly, he peels the scarlet mask from his grim face. The mask is limp, like a scarlet pancake. He puts the mask in his saddle bag and from it, from the intricately carved leather saddlebag, he withdraws the deed to the hacienda.” Pinemont lifted the typing machine off himself and reached for a beer.”
― Ron Goulart, After Things Fell Apart

“Forcing himself to stop gawking up at it, he went trotting to the fallen intruder. “Wonder if the guy’s dead.” No—he was breathing. As Pete was bending to touch the unconscious man, he heard a rustling to his left. Someone was approaching him. A tall man in coveralls and a wide-brim hat. In his gloved hand he held a prop ray gun. Straightening up, Pete said, “You’re Dangler, aren’t you?”
― Ron Goulart, Skyrocket Steele

“The other young sheriff’s department man, his tag said he was Moore, rubbed at the little California bear in the center of his six-pointed, blue and gold star.”
― Ron Goulart, If Dying Was All

“Hildy resumed her electric banjo rendition of “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.”
― Ron Goulart, Brainz, Inc.