“Dolphins work on the reward system,” I explained. “When they’ve had enough to eat, that’s a wrap.” I shrugged. The director eyed me with a frown, and I realized that he was playing a role himself, the role of the stereotypical director. Hollywood is full of them. Bald-headed, short, and heavyset, he had a white moustache and goatee, an electric megaphone, and—of all things—a gold cigarette holder with a 100 mm filter cigarette in it. The only part of his costume missing was a pith helmet, which was probably optional. “Hmmmm,” he said as though musing to himself, “like actors, then.” HollywoodDolphins Book:Behind the Dolphin smile: One Man's Campaign to Protect the World's Dolphins Source: Behind the Dolphin smile: One Man's Campaign to Protect the World's Dolphins
“He got up, came back, and unlocked the door to my cell, then led me back to his desk and indicated the bench along the wall. I sat down, and he pushed a bundle of letters over to me. I was reading one of the letters—it was from a young girl who said she loved Flipper and wanted to know if there was anything she could do to help either Charlie Brown or me—when suddenly Sgt. Pepper grabbed my hair and banged my head twice—Bang! Bang!—against the wall. Through clenched teeth he growled, “You come here to steal dee fish! You bess tell me de trut, man. You come to steal dee fish!” “Dolphins are not fish!” I yelled back at him.” ActivismDolphins Book:Behind the Dolphin smile: One Man's Campaign to Protect the World's Dolphins Source: Behind the Dolphin smile: One Man's Campaign to Protect the World's Dolphins