Not exactly a war story
My good friend, Mr. Eastwood, has been involved in interesting cinema for about as long as I’ve been a movie goer (let’s not quibble over the minor detail that I no longer go to the movies; the movies come to me). From that ride in the back of JT’s Scout to see one of the sphagetti westerns, through Play Misty For Me (might be the only true scary movie), around the corner past any punk that might want to make my day, and more, and more. As he ages, he also seems to be developing the sort of conscience that permits him to tweak the elephant’s long nose.
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