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...immense puddle of it, the product of the poor woman supervisor whose arteries the Shape has skillfully tapped. He just keeps coming, walking through thick glass doors, bullet after bullet pumped into him. On his way to the hospital he spies a buxom cheerleader type on her porch and takes a quick detour: the slaughter in this movie is Pavlovian...

Author: By David B. Edelstern, | Title: More Merriment | 11/25/1981 | See Source »

...front porch of Lorna Shuster's guesthouse, where a few survivors of the old Atlantic City gather, the only thing exchanged is conversation. The name of the place is actually the Montpelier Guesthouse-it is at 7 South Montpelier Avenue-but a passerby would never know. Someone stole the sign a few weeks ago, and Shuster, whose detached, philosophical nature hides the fact that she is suffering from hypertension, does not appear in a hurry to replace it. Why should she be? Her regulars, all Jewish and all from Philadelphia, come back year after year, from the beginning...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: In Atlantic City: The View from the Porch | 9/7/1981 | See Source »

Memories on the porch tend to dwell on the glory days, when Atlantic City was fixed in the national consciousness as the middle-class playground, and the "prospect of a stroll on the Boardwalk-better yet, a ride in a wicker rolling chair-warmed the days all winter long...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: In Atlantic City: The View from the Porch | 9/7/1981 | See Source »

...loss of the rolling chairs is not the only thing the people on the porch dislike about the new Atlantic City. Lorna Shuster, for example, is annoyed by the big increase in costs. "We were told our taxes would go down," she says. "Instead everything has gone up about four times. They lied to us." "The old people have been thrown out," adds Esther Halperin. "And they expected to die here...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: In Atlantic City: The View from the Porch | 9/7/1981 | See Source »

...Foreign Car Driver had seen the Colonel once before, but he had passed it off as a apparition. He had been walking one night in Savannah, Georgia in the midsts of a raging black mood, and the Colonel had suddenly appeared, as if by magic, on the porch of an old brownstone. He had looked at the driver and said, "Good Evening." There was something in the way he said it that made you feel as if he knew the drear shit and persiflage and yet could still be amiable. He wasn't one of those hereditary Kentucky Colonels...

Author: By Thomas Hines, | Title: Chivalry | 8/4/1981 | See Source »

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