#Barrett Whitener

[perregrinstudiessometimes]

Spoiler Free Book review of:

Catch Me If You Can: The True Story of a Real Fake by Frank W. Abagnale with Stan Redding

Good reads synopsis/summary: 

“Frank W. Abagnale, alias Frank Williams, Robert Conrad, Frank Adams and Robert Monjo, was one of the most daring con men, forgers, impostors and escape artists in history. In his brief but notorious career, Abagnale donned a pilot's uniform and co-piloted a Pan Am jet, masqueraded as the supervising resident of a hospital, practised law without a licence, passed himself off as a college sociology professor and cashed over $2.5 million in forged cheques, all before he was 21 years old. Known by the police of 26 foreign countries and all 50 US states as 'The Skywayman', Abagnale lived a sumptuous life on the run - until the law finally caught up with him. Now recognised as America's leading authority on financial foul play, Abagnale is a charming rogue whose hilarious, stranger-than=fiction international escapes - including one from an aeroplane - make Catch Me if You Can an irresistible tale of deceit.”

Format: audio book read by Barrett Whitener (an amazing reader 10/10 for performance) 

Source: Libby (app that my local library partners with)

Book started on: Jan 8th

Book finished on: Jan 8th

Book Grade (out of 100): 95

Book emojis: 🧑🏻‍✈️🪪🕵🏻🧠🧑🏻‍⚖️🚓💶🧳👮🏻‍♂️

Spoiler free thoughts: While the accompanying movie that was based off this book is far more popular, and far more talked about. The book is, in my opinion, better. The true story of frank Abagnale is far more interesting than the fictionalized version of his story portrayed by Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hanks. I will say, I would love to read a book from the perspective of the FBI regarding this case.

This is the first time I have read this book, and frankly, I am upset that I waited this long to read it. I have seen the movie countless times over the years as it is one of my favorite movies and I think I may return to the book as well. I don’t know what it is about the story of Frank Abagnale maybe it’s the confidence, maybe it’s the stupidity, Maybe it’s the skill. Maybe, and most likely it is that you rarely hear of such serious crimes where the number of individual victims is low, while the severity of the crime is high. Frank Abagnale rarely prayed on individual people. Instead, his targets were big businesses, big banks, and large hotel chains. Even with his crimes did pray on specific people, he was so charming that the people rarely upset (except for that one model/se worker) whatever it is about his story, there is some thing, both terrifying and comforting about it.

Warnings: I suppose it would be fair to warn you that this book contains large amounts of crime. Frank focuses mainly on check fraud what does also delve into regular old fraud. There are also mentions of horrible treatments within prisons Specifically his time in a French prison is one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever read. There is also briefly a sex worker though she is not discussed much.

Do I recommend this book? Absolutely! This book is fabulous and while it doesn’t quite put the movie to shame, it does certainly top it. Regardless of whether you watch the movie or read the book I implore you to look into Frank Abagnale’s story as he is deeply interesting. It’s probably weird to say and think this, but I believe Frank may be my favorite criminal. (I am well aware that I should not have a favorite criminal.)

If you enjoyed this book and are looking for other recommendations: if you haven’t seen the movie, I would recommend the movie. If you haven’t read the book, I would recommend the book. I wish I had more things to recommend you, but I’ve simply not come across anything that affects me the way frank story does. If you have any suggestions for me, please leave them in the replies or the tags. :)

[capocefalo]

Parliament Hill Fields

On this bald hill the new year hones its edge.

Faceless and pale as china

The round sky goes on minding its business.

Your absence is inconspicuous;

Nobody can tell what I lack.

Gulls have threaded the river's mud bed back

To this crest of grass. Inland, they argue,

Settling and stirring like blown paper

Or the hands of an invalid. The wan

Sun manages to strike such tin glints

From the linked ponds that my eyes wince

And brim; the city melts like sugar.

A crocodile of small girls

Knotting and stopping, ill-assorted, in blue uniforms,

Opens to swallow me. I'm a stone, a stick,

One child drops a barrette of pink plastic;

None of them seem to notice.

Their shrill, gravelly gossip's funneled off.

Now silence after silence offers itself.

The wind stops my breath like a bandage.

Southward, over Kentish Town, an ashen smudge

Swaddles roof and tree.

It could be a snowfield or a cloudbank.

I suppose it's pointless to think of you at all.

Already your doll grip lets go.

The tumulus, even at noon, guards its black shadow:

You know me less constant,

Ghost of a leaf, ghost of a bird.

I circle the writhen trees. I am too happy.

These faithful dark-boughed cypresses

Brood, rooted in their heaped losses.

Your cry fades like the cry of a gnat.

I lose sight of you on your blind journey,

While the heath grass glitters and the spindling rivulets

Unspool and spend themselves. My mind runs with them,

Pooling in heel-prints, fumbling pebble and stem.

The day empties its images

Like a cup or a room. The moon's crook whitens,

Thin as the skin seaming a scar.

Now, on the nursery wall,

The blue night plants, the little pale blue hill

In your sister's birthday picture start to glow.

The orange pompons, the Egyptian papyrus

Light up. Each rabbit-eared

Blue shrub behind the glass

Exhales an indigo nimbus,

A sort of cellophane balloon.

The old dregs, the old difficulties take me to wife.

Gulls stiffen to their chill vigil in the drafty half-light;

I enter the lit house.

Sylvia Plath

[graywyvern]

( via / "thunder: perfect mind, by leonora carrington and andrew wyeth, detailed oil painting" via nightcafe )

In the maze of choices.

"Parliament Hill Fields

On this bald hill the new year hones its edge. Faceless and pale as china The round sky goes on minding its business. Your absence is inconspicuous; Nobody can tell what I lack.

Gulls have threaded the river’s mud bed back To this crest of grass. Inland, they argue, Settling and stirring like blown paper Or the hands of an invalid. The wan Sun manages to strike such tin glints

From the linked ponds that my eyes wince And brim; the city melts like sugar. A crocodile of small girls Knotting and stopping, ill-assorted, in blue uniforms, Opens to swallow me. I’m a stone, a stick,

One child drops a barrette of pink plastic; None of them seem to notice. Their shrill, gravelly gossip’s funneled off. Now silence after silence offers itself. The wind stops my breath like a bandage.

Southward, over Kentish Town, an ashen smudge Swaddles roof and tree. It could be a snowfield or a cloudbank. I suppose it’s pointless to think of you at all. Already your doll grip lets go.

The tumulus, even at noon, guards its black shadow: You know me less constant, Ghost of a leaf, ghost of a bird. I circle the writhen trees. I am too happy. These faithful dark-boughed cypresses

Brood, rooted in their heaped losses. Your cry fades like the cry of a gnat. I lose sight of you on your blind journey, While the heath grass glitters and the spindling rivulets Unspool and spend themselves. My mind runs with them,

Pooling in heel-prints, fumbling pebble and stem. The day empties its images Like a cup or a room. The moon’s crook whitens, Thin as the skin seaming a scar. Now, on the nursery wall,

The blue night plants, the little pale blue hill In your sister’s birthday picture start to glow. The orange pompons, the Egyptian papyrus Light up. Each rabbit-eared Blue shrub behind the glass

Exhales an indigo nimbus, A sort of cellophane balloon. The old dregs, the old difficulties take me to wife. Gulls stiffen to their chill vigil in the drafty half-light; I enter the lit house."

--Plath

Fly Me to the Moon.

"...all the methods and conventions of art today are good for parody only..." --Doktor Faustus

Yggdrasil.

[wordpresstop]

New Product Ideas For 2021

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[download-free-books-67]

Book Name: A Confederacy of Dunces Author Name: Barrett Whitener Free Download on: oceanofebook. com Anyone who want to read this book write yes in the commen

[acti-veg]

hi, could you recommend a vegan whitening toothpaste available in the U.K.? thank you

Here is a good article on this. Personally I’d recommend Kingfisher, their whole range is really good, the charcoal one is a really good whitener too. It’s sold online and in Holland and Barrett’s.

[autumnbell32]

Parliament Hill Fields

On this bald hill the new year hones its edge.

Faceless and pale as china

The round sky goes on minding its business.

Your absence is inconspicuous;

Nobody can tell what I lack.

Gulls have threaded the river’s mud bed back

To this crest of grass. Inland, they argue,

Settling and stirring like blown paper

Or the hands of an invalid. The wan

Sun manages to strike such tin glints

From the linked ponds that my eyes wince

And brim; the city melts like sugar.

A crocodile of small girls

Knotting and stopping, ill-assorted, in blue uniforms,

Opens to swallow me. I’m a stone, a stick,

One child drops a barrette of pink plastic;

None of them seem to notice.

Their shrill, gravelly gossip’s funneled off

Now silence after silence offers itself.

The wind stops my breath like a bandage.

Southward, over Kentish Town, an ashen smudge

Swaddles roof and tree.

It could be a snowfield or a cloudbank.

I suppose it’s pointless to think of you at all.

Already your doll grip lets go.

The tumulus, even at noon, guards its black shadow;

You know me less constant,

Ghost of a leaf, ghost of a bird.

I circle the writhen trees. I am too happy.

These faithful dark-boughed cypresses

Brood, rooted in their heaped losses.

Your cry fades like the cry of a gnat.

I lose sight of you on your blind journey,

While the heath grass glitters and the spindling rivulets

Unspool and spend themselves. My mind runs with them,

Pooling in heel-prints, fumbling pebble and stem.

The day empties its images

Like a cup or a room. The moon’s crook whitens,

Thin as the skin seaming a scar.

Now, on the nursery wall,

The blue night plants, the little pale blue hill

In your sister’s birthday picture start to glow.

The orange pompons, the Egyptian papyrus

Light up. Each rabbit-eared

Blue shrub behind the glass

Exhales an indigo nimbus,

A sort of cellophane balloon.

The old dregs, the old difficulties take me to wife.

Gulls stiffen to their chill vigil in the drafty half-light;

I enter the lit house.

-Sylvia Plath

[cardedordu927682]

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Written By: Bruce Catton Narrated By: Barrett Whitener Publisher: Blackstone Audiobooks Date: July 2010 Duration: 8 hours 0 minutes

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Written By: Thomas E. Woods Jr., Ph.D. Narrated By: Barrett Whitener Publisher: Blackstone Audiobooks Date: June 2005 Duration: 7 hours 2 minutes

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history of audiobooks : Landscape Turned Red by Stephen W. Sears | History

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Written By: Stephen W. Sears Narrated By: Barrett Whitener Publisher: Blackstone Audiobooks Date: January 2006 Duration: 14 hours 35 minutes

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history of audiobooks : A World Lit Only by Fire by William Manchester | History

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Written By: William Manchester Narrated By: Barrett Whitener Publisher: Blackstone Audiobooks Date: March 2007 Duration: 11 hours 39 minutes

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best political biographies or autobiographies : Jeb Stuart | Biography & Memoir

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Written By: Burke Davis Narrated By: Barrett Whitener Publisher: Blackstone Audiobooks Date: March 2009 Duration: 15 hours 20 minutes

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history of audiobooks : The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors by James D. Hornfischer | History

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Written By: James D. Hornfischer Narrated By: Barrett Whitener Publisher: Random House (Audio) Date: November 2003 Duration: 16 hours 36 minutes

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history of audiobooks : The Cruelest Miles by Laney Salisbury, Gay Salisbury | History

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Written By: Laney Salisbury, Gay Salisbury Narrated By: Barrett Whitener Publisher: Random House (Audio) Date: March 2003 Duration: 9 hours 36 minutes

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history of audiobooks : Justinian's Flea by William Rosen | History

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Written By: William Rosen Narrated By: Barrett Whitener Publisher: Tantor Media Date: May 2007 Duration: 12 hours 0 minutes

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best political biographies or autobiographies : Goodbye, Darkness | Biography & Memoir

Listen to Goodbye, Darkness new releases best political biographies or autobiographies on your iPhone, iPad, or Android. Get any TV and Radio FREE during your Free Trial

Written By: William Manchester Narrated By: Barrett Whitener Publisher: Blackstone Audiobooks Date: January 2006 Duration: 15 hours 5 minutes