Low Tide did just enough to keep me wanting to know what was going to happen next and to find out whether or not brothers Alan and Peter would be able to keep from drowning in the tumultuous sea of bad decisions they were swimming in.

Nichols knew how to hold my attention, Wrinkles the Clown a celebration of petrifying delights that had my guts twisted into unbreakable knots.

Joker wasn’t for me, and even if I were to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight and have a sudden desire to watch the world burn that still doesn’t mean I see my opinion changing anytime soon.

The Death of Dick Long gallops to the finish line with authoritative tenacity, its final moments hitting me like a swift kick to the head from a startled horse I’d made the unfortunate mistake to frighten.