To those who know me, be warned.

The next person who tries to give me a fist-bump is getting a knuckle sandwich.

It’s not cool. It never was cool. And it will never be cool.

I refuse t to act like two incestuous aliens in purple jumpsuits.

It’s a sad reality that most consumer products are Made in China. And while I understand some of the benefits of economic globalization, I still want to buy stuff made in the USA.

Recently I went to the local department store to splurge on some new kitchen items that were Made in the USA.

What was the only thing I purchased?

The only thing I could find made by American workers?

A wok.

Made in Minnesota.

Go figure.

The Killer Inside Me by Jim Thompson is a masterpiece of pulp fiction. Last year it was made into a movie starring Casey Affleck and Jessica Alba that was panned by many critics but praised by Thompson fans.

As with any movie based on a novel, if you haven’t read it, your viewing experience will be completely different. This can be an asset but also a handicap — especially when it comes to recommending the movie to others.

My favorite book-to-movie of all time is American Psycho. It followed the narrative by Bret Easton Ellis faithfully, while still allowing Mary Harron to inject her own female perspective,without losing any of the conformity, uniformity or shallowness of the 1980′s. I have watched it nearly 35 times.

The Killer Inside Me achieves much of the same. It followed the narrative brilliantly. Casey Affleck was bad-ass. And best of all, the sex and violence were conveyed as the siamese-sensations they were in print.

It’s a movie for people who enjoy films from the 1970s…Long shots, extended scenes, and quiet contemplative characters that do a lot without doing much.

If you like Deer Hunter, Blue Collar, or any movie by Monte Hellman, then check out The Killer Inside Me.

Just don’t let your wife catch you grinning.