Jacques Laçan was a french psychoanalyst who came up with the bright idea that the length of the therapy session should be according to the patient’s need.

  If you were in a space to open up, the session would go on for hours.  If you weren’t ready to get better, he would kick you out after five minutes.  I’ve always suspected that he quintuple booked, and would up getting paid for 20 sessions an hour, but you never know.  History is still debating the accuracy of his filofax.

No thank you, Ma’am, I’ve got my own glasses.

In any case, I’ve been forcing myself to write huge essays on going to the movies, but sometimes, it’s just not necessary.  I’ll save that for My Name Is Bruce.  In fact, I’ve already gone on too long.  Maybe it’s the 3D talking, but I really liked Bolt.  I didn’t feel pandered to, or bored, and it’s about a doggie who loves his owner, and I cried three distinct times.  I like well-made movies (and truth be told, the visuals are pretty nice) that are positive.  I just do.  And I’d rather have a Bolt than 100 No Country For Old Men’s, or 8 quadrillion There Will Be Blood’s.  That’s a lot of potential blood.

And so I conclude this session thusly: doggie, doggie, doggie!

Doggie.

That is all.

The images of Beowulf and Journey of the Center of the Earth have passed through these babies. How could they go wrong?

Profits!

Losses!