I’ve recently been distracted by the book Darkly Dreaming Dexter, hence no posts since Friday.  It’s an interesting premise—the story is told in first person by Dexter, who just happens to be a serial killer who only kills bad people (like a priest who molests and kills children).  Ok, so it’s not Shakespeare, but it’s an entertaining distraction.

The story is set in Miami and from time to time we’re given some interesting observations, like this one:

“Every major city has a section like this one. If a piebald dwarf with advanced leprosy wants to have sex with a kangaroo and a teenage choir, he’ll find his way here and get a room. When he’s done, he might take the whole gang next door for a cup of Cuban coffee and a medianoche sandwich. Nobody would care, as long as he tipped.”