A member of my New York - New York Facebook group posted an image of Al Pacino with the following caption:
Happy Birthday to 1 of New York's greatest actors. Al Pacino turned 75 years old yesterday.
I replied with the following:
Been a lot a Wizard films at the movies over recent years - strange how he has not found an opening here or there that would keep him in hair gel.
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Very nice portrait.
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Harking back to the good old days - when there was something up his sleeve and a gun in his pocket.
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Is he smiling?
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I think he is.
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Imagine two experienced soldiers in the trenches in the First World War.
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They are telling each other stories that would normally cause them both to bust a gut.
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But they are playing a game.
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And that's the look.
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Just look at the eyes - and avoid looking at his mouth.
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Endorphins
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They can often flow better if you can keep in your laugh.
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BTW it's a game common in the British Army and possibly also in the American Army, which I normally refused to play because the game for those playing the game is not to laugh and I could often get them to laugh.
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Subsequently I was asked if I could give an example:
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Scouse (from Liverpool) one of my best mates in the army liked to play the game and like much else in the army the humour could be very tough, dark, gallows and dry.
Very dry, matter-of-fact with an expressionless delivery.
Those in the regiment injured while on active service but still fit enough not to be discharged were given nicknames that were in regard to their injury, such nicknames were only ever used when speaking about the person and not to them.
For example one of the lads had a badly burnt hand and was given the nickname "the Glove" because he was allowed to wear a black leather glove.
Scouse loved to play the game and rarely could anyone catch him out, though he did laugh but not often when being spoken to.
I was determined to get Scouse laughing and with laughter being infectious I did not play the game. On a number of occasions I told Scouse that one day I would have him on the deck busting a gut in laughter.
For weeks Scouse had been referring to the Sergeant major as "Plastic Face" without me bothering to take much notice, as it was a name that was relatively mild in comparison to most.
One day I asked, why do you call him plastic face?
Have you not noticed?
Noticed what?
He's got a plastic face.
What do you mean he's got a plastic face?
He had half his face blown off by a bomb.
Get out.
He did.
Get out.
He did, they had to put it back together with plastic surgery.
Never.
They did, you can tell.
How?
Because when he laughs one side of his lips move and the other side doesn't.
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For weeks after that I tried to get the Sergeant major to laugh. One day after speaking to the Sergeant major in his office I went into the Squadron Bar.
I ordered a pint and told Scouse that I had been speaking to the Sergeant major and during the conversation with the Sergeant major he asked if I fancied him.
Scouce said, what did you say?
I replied, I told him that I would not f*** him if I was a poof and he then said, ye cheeky Geordie bastard. Then I said to him, why do you think I fancy you and he said, because you are always looking at my f***ing lips.
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