clipped from: friarfox.com   

DAVID CARRADINE PORTRAIT 04.06.09

His eyes pierce your brain, carefully analysing each and every word you utter, calculating a response like an alligator waiting to snap its jaws. He possesses a brooding demeanour, craggy face, wispy long grey hair and gunslinger walk. His gravitas is undeniable, style impeccable. If this man’s notch was turned one louder, it could have been an encounter with a psychopathic killer rather than an actor, writer, director and musician. Though moody persona may belie

Particularly surprising then, when over dinner a spectacled solicitor-type sauntered over to the martial arts expert of forty years and accused him of rudeness for chain-smoking American Spirit cigarettes in a restaurant. It was almost the story of Pai Mai and the massacre at the Shaolin Temple all over again.

“Why didn’t you move to another table? There’s an ashtray here. So we’re smoking. Get the fuck out of here!” murmured Carradine as the surrounding tables fell silent.