Saturday, December 12, 2015

Vixens Make the Pulp Go ‘Round

By Sean Taylor

Even though Scooby Doo wasn’t a pulp tale, I still blame Daphne Blake.

I do. That poor, danger-prone mystery solver turned young me on to the joy that is the redhead. Now, that in itself is innocuous enough, but then you must take into account all the vixen redheads that make up the crime movies and the pulp stories.

It’s simply math. A + B = C.

A. The brunettes are the girl next door who chase the hero or wait patiently for him to return.

B. The curvy blondes are the slinky lounge singers the hero chases and who tosses all those classy double entendres at him.

C. That leaves the red heads and the truly raven-haired beauties to play the part of Lilith—the femme fatale who, if not outright gunning for our hero, seeks to coax him (often through sex or the promise of it) to the dark side.

Yes, I know I’m oversimplifying and resorting to the worst, broadest stereotypes, but bear in mind I was still a kid. I didn’t know that women heroes could dye their hair to be any shade. I didn’t know that heroes could come in both genders yet. My world wasn’t ready for that kind of thinking yet. Yes, I’m THAT old.

So, because I liked the redheads (a fact that neither Josie nor that thief from the Dungeons and Dragons cartoon did anything to dissuade), I had no choice but to fall in love with the bad girls. The vixens. The femme fatales. The ones who only led to trouble. Not Eve. Hell, probably not even Lilith now that I think about it. I fell in love with the serpent.

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