This movie about street art was more enjoyable to me than Basquiat which I watched recently. The sensation generated by Thierry Guetta, a French filmaker who decided to become a graffitti artist, included the participation of Shepard Fairey who created the now famous Obama image and Banksy, the reclusive Brit whose work I love.
The Cat Dancers
P.J. Deuterman conjured up an out of the ordinary plot involving a conspiracy of men who set about rectifying the errors made by the justice system. Deputy Cam Richter ends up in the middle of it when his ex-wife, a judge, is murdered and he suspects his friend and co-worker Kenny Cox is part of the group. The cat dancers? Well, that's another whole aspect to the story which leads to an exciting denouement. Think mountain lions. And German Shepards.
The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog by Bruce Perry (PhD.)
These are case histories from the shrink who debriefed the children of Waco, and others.
In the beginning...
...there were The Flyaways, a family who traveled in their miraculous flying machine having daring adventures with Goldilocks and Cinderella. The first in the 3-book series by Alice Dale Hardy was published by Grosset and Dunlap in 1925 and copies are almost extinct. Few people remember Ma and Pa, Tommy and Susie Flyaway now.
I became acquainted with them on my grandfather's lap, my dear Grandpa Baker who read and read and read to me every evening for as many years as I can remember. I would hold my breath as each chapter ending neared, hoping he would not stop. I would keep begging for "just one more" chapter until his voice got so hoarse I would have to run to his room to get his throat lozenges.
Over the years we covered all of Uncle Wiggly and Honey Bunch, the Bobbsey Twins, the Five Little Peppers, the Wind in the Willow series, some of them more than once. He read to me until long after I could read everything for myself, until I was into Beverly Gray, Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys. I was safe and happy snuggled up on the couch with him and that feeling has never left me. I still read and read and read, and it still makes me feel safe and happy.
I became acquainted with them on my grandfather's lap, my dear Grandpa Baker who read and read and read to me every evening for as many years as I can remember. I would hold my breath as each chapter ending neared, hoping he would not stop. I would keep begging for "just one more" chapter until his voice got so hoarse I would have to run to his room to get his throat lozenges.
Over the years we covered all of Uncle Wiggly and Honey Bunch, the Bobbsey Twins, the Five Little Peppers, the Wind in the Willow series, some of them more than once. He read to me until long after I could read everything for myself, until I was into Beverly Gray, Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys. I was safe and happy snuggled up on the couch with him and that feeling has never left me. I still read and read and read, and it still makes me feel safe and happy.
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