Miranda Sugarman was supposed to be in the Midwest, working as an eye doctor. So how did she wind up shot to death on the roof of New York’s seediest strip club?
Nice. What amazingly illustrious company. And what an honor. Now, I understand that Lucky Man's listing has nothing to do with quality. And I think it's clear that no one's thoughts divert to that of Ben Tanzer when these authors come up in conversation. No one of sound mind and body anyway. This listing is purely the luck of the alphabet, a random happenstance of title, and it is likely that Bukowski, Nabokov, and maybe Aleas as well are rolling over in their graves even as we speak. Still, there I am, and so as unbelievable as this may be for all of us, too bad suckers, you have to share a page with me.