“A Shot in the Dark. Hilarious,” I’d once told him. “The Pink Panther, I heard it’s a piece of shit.” “You heard wrong. I also saw Goldfinger last week. Amazing. Did you know the girl they painted gold died?” “I’m more of a Dr. No man.” “You’re crazy! This Bond is much better. You know Sean Connery saved my life?” “You’ve brought that up more than once. You’re a worse name-dropper than your father.” We had established early on a sort of Irish Rat Pack shtick, where ribbing and gossip was our currency. The delight we took in each other’s company would in time torment my father, but in those
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