<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619</id><updated>2012-01-22T17:10:43.902+08:00</updated><category term='Wedding Songs'/><category term='Kids'/><category term='Bullshit'/><category term='The Last First Day'/><category term='Life'/><category term='Death'/><category term='Senses'/><category term='love'/><category term='Movie Monologue'/><category term='Heroes'/><title type='text'>HOOFMARKS</title><subtitle type='html'>Troddings of your resident bovine.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-4903782862349487491</id><published>2011-03-28T08:54:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T08:41:00.667+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movie Monologue'/><title type='text'>Movie Monologue #6</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Up for argument is whether sequels are better than their originals. This one pretty much stands as prime example of how you can desecrate the sanctity of an original masterpiece, and what desperation for corporate profits in movie making give birth to. Nevertheless, there were finer moments (not hard to) that require an approving nod. One such was Gordie's plug for his book in a lecture hall. That's how you sell your goddamn book! What a salesman!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wallstreet II : Money Never Sleeps&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 200px; display: block; height: 178px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588933300532371554" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7nPC8177JwA/TY_hObOVYGI/AAAAAAAAAeA/-9pEeJ_0l9w/s200/gecko%2Bii.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Gekko : "&lt;em&gt;You’re all pretty much fucked. You don’t know it yet. But, you are the NINJA generation. No Income, No Job, No Assets. You got a lot to live for too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Someone reminded me the other evening that I once said greed is good. Now it seems its legal.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;But folks, its greed that makes my bartender buy three houses he can’t afford with no money down. And it's greed that makes your parents refinance their two hundred thousand dollar house for two fifty. Then they take that extra fifty and go down to the mall. They buy a plasma TV, cell phones, computers, a SUV, hey why not a second home while we are it, cause gee whiz we all know the prices of houses in America always go up, right? And its greed that makes the government of this country cut interest rates down to one percent after 9/11 so we can all go shopping again. And they got all these fancy names for trillions of dollars of credits, CMOs, CDOs, SIVs, ABS . You know I honestly think that there’s maybe only seventy five people in the world who know what they are. But I’ll tell you what they are - WMDs, weapons of mass destruction! That’s what they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;When I was away, it seems greed got greedier with a little bit of envy mixed in. Hedge funders were walking home with fifty, hundred million bucks a year. So Mister Banker, he looks around and says my life looks pretty boring. So he starts leveraging his interests up to forty, fifty to one, with your money, not his, yours, because he could. You’re supposed to be borrowing not them. And the beauty of the deal, no one is responsible. Because everyone is drinking the same Kool-aid. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Last year ladies and gentlemen, forty percent of all American corporate profits came from financial services. Not production, not anything remotely to do with the needs of the American public. The truth is we are all part of it now. Banks, consumers, we’re moving the money around in circles. We take a buck, we shoot it full of steroids. We call it leverage. I call it steroid banking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Now I’ve been considered a pretty smart guy when it comes to finance and maybe I was in prison too long. But sometimes it’s the only place to stay sane and look out through those bars and say “Hey, is everybody out there nuts?” Its clear as a bell to those who pay attention, the mother of all evil is speculation, leveraged debt. The bottom line is borrowing to the hilt. And I hate to tell you this, it’s a bankrupt business model. It won’t work. Its systemic, malignant, and its global, like cancer. It’s a disease and we got to fight back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;How are we going to do that? How are we going to leverage that disease back in our favor? Well I’ll tell you. Three words, “Buy my book!” Prices and profits work." &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-4903782862349487491?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/4903782862349487491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=4903782862349487491' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4903782862349487491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4903782862349487491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2011/03/movie-monologue-5.html' title='Movie Monologue #6'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7nPC8177JwA/TY_hObOVYGI/AAAAAAAAAeA/-9pEeJ_0l9w/s72-c/gecko%2Bii.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-9148652246565386672</id><published>2009-04-28T09:18:00.013+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T16:14:58.888+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Death Becomes You</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/SgE1nEu8WqI/AAAAAAAAAbw/l9JnY5xCB7Q/s1600-h/Death-of-Superman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/SgE1nEu8WqI/AAAAAAAAAbw/l9JnY5xCB7Q/s200/Death-of-Superman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332602379185183394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you want to die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever thought about what your last days on earth are going to be like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If given the choice in some weird paradimensional setting, would you elect to buy that golden ticket that tells you when your train will stop?  Or would you just leave it to chance, or fate, or God, or some other unexplainable Jedi-like force that provides the foundation for religion, science, and karma, and leisurely free fall backwards off life's highest peak?  I mean really not bother and trod along, proceed with your daily rituals like you've got an eternity ahead of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost everyone fears death, because death is not a first hand experience.  But we all bear witness to this phenomenon every day.  Mostly its a friend of a friend, someone else's family, some poor souls in a truck half way across the globe, your favorite pet, the bad guys on the silver screen, your neighbor you never knew about..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so if you were being cast for your last stage play, the fat lady rehearsing her runs in the background while you prepare for your final curtain call, would you 'choose' to die young but unexpectedly? or ancient and wrinkly but anxiously counting down? sick and in bed? or healthy but in a horrific accident?  freakish and famous? or regular and discreet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me morbid, Sunshine, but you know you can't but feel a little envious of how these legends and champions (except for the postal Vietnamese) got picked for their grand exits..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/SgE2ccz6S3I/AAAAAAAAAb4/PQ6QG73HHtA/s1600-h/salute_Pc95Z_16744.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 90px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/SgE2ccz6S3I/AAAAAAAAAb4/PQ6QG73HHtA/s200/salute_Pc95Z_16744.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332603296181537650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Steve Irwin: Impaled by a Stingray&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it even possible to start a manly list about anything without the Crocodile Hunter? Steve died as manly as possible on 2006, while filming a documentary entitled "Ocean's Deadliest" in Queensland's Great Barrier Reef. His heart was impaled by nothing less than a short-tail stingray barb. His legacy will impale us forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Eleazar Maccabeus: Crushed to death by a War Elephant&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a guy with balls of steel, just like his whole family. During the Maccabean revolt, where Jewish people revolted against Seleucidic and Syrian rulers, Eleazar identified a war elephant that he believed to carry the Seleucid King Antiochus V --due to the special armor the elephant wore-- so he decided to endanger his life by attacking the elephant and thrusting a spear into its belly. Yes, the dead elephant then collapsed upon Eleazar, killing him as well, but remained a hero for eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Empedocles: Jumped into a Volcano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diogenes Laërtius records the legend that pre-Socratic philosopher Empedocles died by throwing himself into an active volcano (Mount Etna in Sicily), so that people would believe his body had vanished and he had turned into an immortal god; however, the volcano threw back one of his bronze sandals, revealing the deceit. Another legend has it that he threw himself in the volcano to prove to his disciples that he was immortal; he believed he would come back as a god among man after being devoured by the fire. Ok, it didn't work, but here we are talking about him, which makes him inmortal in a way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J. G. Parry-Thomas: Died breaking a Speed Record&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1927, the Welsh racing driver J. G. Parry-Thomas was trying to regain his own world land speed record that had been broken just weeks earlier by Malcolm Campbell on the same beach of Pendine Sands. His car, Babs, used exposed chains to connect the engine to the drive wheels while the high engine cover required him to drive with his head tilted to one side – the right. On his final run the right-hand drive chain broke at a speed of 171 mph (270 km/h), setting a new record, but partially decapitating him as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thích Quang Duc: Lit himself on Fire to make a point&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, we agree this wasn't the best way to protest, but he made his point. On 1963, Thích Quang Duc, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, sat down in the middle of a busy intersection in Saigon, covered himself in gasoline, and lit himself on fire, burning himself to death. He was protesting President Ngo Dinh Diem's administration for oppressing the Buddhist religion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kenji Urada: Killed by a Robot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After working on a broken robot at a Japanese Kawasaki plant, 37-year old Kenji Urada forgot to turn it off. Big mistake! The Robot woke up, said "hasta la vista", and pushed him into a grinding machine with its hydraulic arm. Ok, he died, that's awful, but we'll always remember him as the man who second man ever to be killed by a Robot. And by the way, the first ever, Robert Williams, went to hit himself with the robot; not manly enough for our list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Les Harvey: Killed by Rock and Roll&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of all music styles, only Rock and Roll is manly enough to kill you. On 1972, Scottish guitarist of Stone the Crows, Les Harvey, was rocking his guitar on stage with his band at the Top Rank Bingo club in Swansea, and then, rock and roll took his life: he was electrocuted by touching an unearthed microphone with wet hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Félix Faure: Killed by Sex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1899, French president Félix Faure died of a stroke while in his office. That's the official story, but it is popularly believed that he died in the arms of his 30-year-old mistress Marguerite Steinheil, while receiving oral sex. Au revoir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Georg Richmann: Killed by a Ball Lightning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that's right. Richmann was a German physicist living in Russia. On 1753, created a kite flying apparatus similar to the one built by Benjamin Franklin a year earlier. He was attending a meeting of the Academy of Sciences when he heard thunder, and ran home with his engraver to capture the event for posterity. While the experiment was underway, ball lightning appeared and collided with Richmann's forehead. He died, but we'll always remember him as the man who stood manly in the way of electricity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Franz Reichelt: Fell to his death from Eiffel Tower while testing his invention&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For being man enough to test his own invention and for giving us that awesome video, Franz Reichelt is number ten in our list. Reichelt (alias the flying tailor) designed an overcoat to fly or float its wearer gently to the ground like the modern parachute. To demonstrate his invention he made a jump of 60 meters from the first deck of the Eiffel Tower, at that time the tallest man-made structure in the world. The parachute failed and Reichelt fell to his death. But we'll always remember him for this video.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[from oddee.com]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if that's not enough to get you all excited about GR's visit, try browsing "1000 Ways To Die" (http://www.spike.com/show/27237) for more macabre inspiration. I personally like &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Death by Ichibone&lt;/span&gt;.. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is for the living. But unfortunately so is death..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-9148652246565386672?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/9148652246565386672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=9148652246565386672' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/9148652246565386672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/9148652246565386672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2009/04/death-becomes-you.html' title='Death Becomes You'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/SgE1nEu8WqI/AAAAAAAAAbw/l9JnY5xCB7Q/s72-c/Death-of-Superman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-4480775835306517639</id><published>2009-04-26T22:15:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T15:23:20.969+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Death'/><title type='text'>In Over The Past 1 Year 5 months &amp; 19 Days...</title><content type='html'>..life just had to come put its hot stamp on things.  Old partners left.  New partners came.  Dad passed.  Friends passed.  Little kiddo came.  The 911, 166, and the R53 rolled out.  A new Focus, and an old 78 TA28 Liftback project rolled in.  I know.  Cool factor just slid down a whole hundred points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sf2cr5rA5TI/AAAAAAAAAbo/uzzmwOwb6pE/s1600-h/boxing_giant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 198px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sf2cr5rA5TI/AAAAAAAAAbo/uzzmwOwb6pE/s200/boxing_giant.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331589811906078002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But am sure as hell not out for the count. Despite the throw downs, I'm very grateful for the moments of joy that find their way in parcelled in between each bout.  The times you think that life's not all fair?  It typically passes and sometimes when you least expect it, will just surprise you in a very good way.  Stick with it.  Roll with the punches.  Look outside the ring.  Loved ones - family..  friends.. that's what its all about.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just need to constantly remind ourselves to remember the good. And forgive, forget but take notes from the bad.  No one needs to be the sorry ass angry bitch that we all fail to recognize sometimes staring back at us in the mirror each morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life's actually great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-4480775835306517639?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/4480775835306517639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=4480775835306517639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4480775835306517639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4480775835306517639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2009/04/in-over-past-1-year-5-months-15-days.html' title='In Over The Past 1 Year 5 months &amp; 19 Days...'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sf2cr5rA5TI/AAAAAAAAAbo/uzzmwOwb6pE/s72-c/boxing_giant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-4899953464560147812</id><published>2007-11-07T21:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T21:43:45.427+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movie Monologue'/><title type='text'>Movie Monologue #5</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And of course a timely and well deserved tribute to every government on the planet that finds it fit to revel in launching a fairy into space.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Malaysia boleh! ..not. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The &lt;em&gt;Bolehnaut&lt;/em&gt;. An astronomical waste of tax revenue. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Armageddon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;(written by Jonathan Hensleigh &amp;amp; J.J. Abrams)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130089407171532322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RzG9Iqx0FiI/AAAAAAAAAPs/Ls8Wv6knqkE/s200/armageddontroupe.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;President&lt;/em&gt;: "I address you tonight, not as the President of the United States, not as the leader of the country, but as a citizen of humanity. We are faced with the very gravest of challenges. The bible calls this day 'Armageddon'. The end of all things. And yet, for the first time in the history of the planet, the species has the technology to prevent its own extinction. All of you praying with us need to know that everything that can be done to prevent this disaster is being called into service. The human thirst for excellence, knowledge, every step of the ladder of science, every... adventurous reach into space, all of our combined modern technologies and imaginations, even the wars that we have fought have provided us the tools to wage the terrible battle. Through all the chaos that is our history books, through all of the wrongs... and the discord, through all of the pain and suffering, through all of our times... there is one thing that has nourished our souls and elevated our species above its origin. And that is our courage. Tonight the hopes and dreams of an entire planet are focused on the fourteen brave souls traveling into the heavens. May we all see the events through with the dignity and perseverance worthy of such a challenge. Good night and Godspeed."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-4899953464560147812?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/4899953464560147812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=4899953464560147812' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4899953464560147812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4899953464560147812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/11/movie-monologue-5.html' title='Movie Monologue #5'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RzG9Iqx0FiI/AAAAAAAAAPs/Ls8Wv6knqkE/s72-c/armageddontroupe.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-4152470000510201661</id><published>2007-07-11T18:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-12T10:44:59.229+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Heroes'/><title type='text'>Heroes.  But whose?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpWTxvYxijI/AAAAAAAAAKM/k4XKFkSxLt4/s1600-h/heroes_main.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086133836928092722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpWTxvYxijI/AAAAAAAAAKM/k4XKFkSxLt4/s200/heroes_main.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpWR9PYxiiI/AAAAAAAAAKE/F40XOywOOTE/s1600-h/heroes_main.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The storyline of Tim Kring’s Heroes has a strangely similar plot to X-Men’s chapter of “Days of Future Past” (Uncanny X-Men issues #141 &amp; #142 published in 1981 by Chris Claremont &amp;amp; John Byrne) which deals with a dystopian alternate future in which mutants are scourged. The storyline alternates between the present day, in which the X-Men fought Mystique's new Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, and a future timeline caused by the X-Men's failure to prevent them from assassinating Senator Robert Kelly, in which robot Sentinels ruled the United States and mutants were incarcerated in concentration camps. Save the Senator, Save the World? Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085896623327439442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpS8CF3KalI/AAAAAAAAAH8/GJrM9bptmpM/s200/Uncanny+XMen+141.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is also clearly apparent that Tim is an ardent comic fan and the influences of comic book characters (from Marvel, DC to Independents) are evident in his made-for-TV-characters of different names and of feebly composed backgrounds. Mesh up a plot borrowed from tried and tested comic legend, pen in characters with unoriginally inspired powers, buy a ticket to Hollywood (cattle class), put together a shoestring budget, sign on B-grade talent (who have, in their defence, done pretty well), and you instantly get a shot at the red carpet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Here's what I mean; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Claire Bennet = Wolverine, or Deadpool &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085897185968155234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpS8i13KamI/AAAAAAAAAIE/nvZopVT_jQ8/s200/clairebennet.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hiro Nakamura = Nightcrawler, or Kiden Nixon (Nyx), or Dr Manhattan (Watchmen)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085897447961160306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpS8yF3KanI/AAAAAAAAAIM/50PyjjuuEbk/s200/hironakamura.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Nathan Petrelli = Warren Worthington III @ Archangel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085897679889394338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpS8_l3KaqI/AAAAAAAAAIk/CHyV7bLu86k/s200/nathanpetrelli.JPG" border="0" /&gt; Peter Petrelli = Synch, or Mimic, or Rogue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085898272594881218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpS9iF3KasI/AAAAAAAAAIw/PMApQqeLr6w/s200/peterpetrelli.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;Niki Sanders = Bruce Banner @ The Hulk&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085898654846970578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpS94V3KatI/AAAAAAAAAI4/RHvEYStOTDk/s200/nikkisanders.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Micah Sanders = Forge &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085897606874950290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpS87V3KapI/AAAAAAAAAIc/IIa1N5HhvI4/s200/micahsanders.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Matt Parker = Professor X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085897525270571650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpS82l3KaoI/AAAAAAAAAIU/b-9eL67xINE/s200/mattparker.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DL Hawkins = Shadowcat @ Kitty Pryde, or Silver Surfer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086131161163467282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpWRV_YxihI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/XJOZ_JWy5R0/s200/dlhawkins.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Claude Rains = Sue Storm @ Invisible Woman&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086129696579619266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpWQAvYxicI/AAAAAAAAAJU/kaXSXQVz-oA/s200/clauderains.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p&gt;Sylar = Mr Sinister, or Magneto&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086129842608507362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpWQJPYxieI/AAAAAAAAAJk/A5wB-9QIY_E/s200/sylar.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Theodore Sprague = Pyro, or Johnny Storm @ Human Torch&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086129984342428162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpWQRfYxigI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/X3cfOUxxRVs/s200/theodorespraque.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p&gt;Eden McCain = Mesmero, or Emma Frost&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086129756709161426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpWQEPYxidI/AAAAAAAAAJc/lVyng5ICu7c/s200/edenmccain.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Haitian = Dorian Leach&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086129919917918706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpWQNvYxifI/AAAAAAAAAJs/CVDRPWHGc0Q/s200/thehaitian.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-4152470000510201661?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/4152470000510201661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=4152470000510201661' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4152470000510201661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4152470000510201661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/07/heroes-but-whose.html' title='Heroes.  But whose?'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RpWTxvYxijI/AAAAAAAAAKM/k4XKFkSxLt4/s72-c/heroes_main.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-9146731845982970157</id><published>2007-07-05T13:40:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T14:02:13.905+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bullshit'/><title type='text'>Social inequality is just</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RoyF5l3KajI/AAAAAAAAAHs/p1AHFovYZ4E/s1600-h/bull+shit.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083585303856966194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RoyF5l3KajI/AAAAAAAAAHs/p1AHFovYZ4E/s200/bull+shit.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083583680359328162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RoyEbF3KaaI/AAAAAAAAAGk/E7poFn72vQs/s200/absolutbullshit.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083584294539651570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RoyE-13KafI/AAAAAAAAAHM/EfFiEPvVc38/s200/realshit.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083584169985599970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RoyE3l3KaeI/AAAAAAAAAHE/sVwJlfrLDeo/s200/absoultbullshit2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083583813503314354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RoyEi13KabI/AAAAAAAAAGs/Lg7Q0d6DE1g/s200/usagrade.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Selfish proponents supporting this injustice should be made to adorn appropriate getups like..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083584706856512018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RoyFW13KahI/AAAAAAAAAHc/N4RYfie0__g/s200/bshat.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083584788460890658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RoyFbl3KaiI/AAAAAAAAAHk/8hiGzhNBbDw/s200/bullshitsuit.JPG" border="0" /&gt;So that they will not only look like bullshit, they'll also..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093234089346427298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Rq7Na01naaI/AAAAAAAAAKU/ObEz2-Juioc/s200/smell+like+bs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Conclusion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083584393323899394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RoyFEl3KagI/AAAAAAAAAHU/X2I8wUG0hSY/s200/vietnam+vet.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083583925172464066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RoyEpV3KacI/AAAAAAAAAG0/U4dbpuq2EKI/s200/nobullshit.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-9146731845982970157?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/9146731845982970157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=9146731845982970157' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/9146731845982970157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/9146731845982970157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/07/social-inequality-is-just.html' title='Social inequality is just'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RoyF5l3KajI/AAAAAAAAAHs/p1AHFovYZ4E/s72-c/bull+shit.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-286625513353288683</id><published>2007-06-24T22:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-25T14:09:46.657+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wedding Songs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Love Rock</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Rn6Cgo1GIHI/AAAAAAAAAF0/lYIiQda9dnM/s1600-h/Mauritius+Skyline.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079640926948040818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Rn6Cgo1GIHI/AAAAAAAAAF0/lYIiQda9dnM/s200/Mauritius+Skyline.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Life couldn't get any better. At this moment. Right now. Its winter in Mauritius, yet the sun continues to shine gloriously and the waves play tag by crashing and ebbing from the shores, while the other handful of vacationers laze away on an otherwise vacant private beach front. The woman our hero has wed lies sprawled on a beach chair, and our hero cannot help but smile somewhat gleefuly on his achievements over the past 2 weeks. Triumphantly found himself a bride, this lazy ass has. Joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And these events echo through an iPod playlist arranged within 2 weeks before the matrimonial endeavor. Lame and even gag-worthy to some, but don't we all love to hear love sometimes..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;66 Wedding Reception Songs&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(crescendoing into post dinner party)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone To Watch Over Me - Ella Fitzgerald&lt;br /&gt;As time goes by - Billy Holiday&lt;br /&gt;How Deep Is The Ocean - Dianna Krall&lt;br /&gt;I Get A Kick Out Of You - Frank Sinatra&lt;br /&gt;At Last - Etta James&lt;br /&gt;I Left My Heart In San Francisco - Tony Bennett&lt;br /&gt;Dream A Little Dream Of Me - Tony Bennet feat KD Lang&lt;br /&gt;When I Fall in Love - Nat King Cole&lt;br /&gt;Truly - Lionel Richie&lt;br /&gt;Have I Told You Lately - Rod Stewart&lt;br /&gt;You Decorated My Life - Kenny Rogers&lt;br /&gt;Stuck On You - Lionel Richie&lt;br /&gt;Smoke Gets In Your Eyes - Platters&lt;br /&gt;All My Life - K-CI &amp; JoJo&lt;br /&gt;She’s the one – Robby Williams&lt;br /&gt;Always and Forever - Heatwave&lt;br /&gt;Georgia - Ray Charles&lt;br /&gt;Summer Wind - Frank Sinatra&lt;br /&gt;You Are The Sunshine of My Life - Stevie Wonder&lt;br /&gt;Isn't She Lovely - Stevie Wonder&lt;br /&gt;Love and Marriage - Frank Sinatra&lt;br /&gt;My First, My Last, My Everything – Barry White&lt;br /&gt;Fly Me To The Moon - Diana Krall&lt;br /&gt;The Way You Look Tonight - Harry Connick Jr&lt;br /&gt;La Mer - Charles Trennet&lt;br /&gt;It's Your Love - Tim McGraw/Faith Hill&lt;br /&gt;We've Only Just Begun - Carpenters&lt;br /&gt;Fallen - Lauren Wood&lt;br /&gt;She - Elvis Costello&lt;br /&gt;Your Song - Elton John&lt;br /&gt;Kissing A Fool - George Michael&lt;br /&gt;I Only Have Eyes For You - Ella Fitzgerald&lt;br /&gt;Can't Take My Eyes Off You - Gloria Gaynor&lt;br /&gt;For Once In My Life - Steview Wonder&lt;br /&gt;My Girl - Temptations&lt;br /&gt;It Had To Be You - Harry Conick Jr&lt;br /&gt;I Could Not Ask For More - Edwin McCain&lt;br /&gt;I Got You Babe - Sonny &amp;amp; Cher&lt;br /&gt;Ain't No Mountain High Enough - Marvin Gaye&lt;br /&gt;We Are Family - Sister Sledge&lt;br /&gt;Brown Eyed Girl - Van Morrison&lt;br /&gt;Love Is In The Air - John Paul Young&lt;br /&gt;I Believe In Miracles - Hot Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;Believe It Or Not – Joey Scarbury&lt;br /&gt;Celebration - Kool &amp; The Gang&lt;br /&gt;Shout - Otis Day &amp;amp; The Nights (Animal House)&lt;br /&gt;Love Shack - B-52's&lt;br /&gt;Copacabana - Barry Manilow&lt;br /&gt;You're The One That I Want - Olivia/Travolta&lt;br /&gt;Mustang Sally - Blues Brothers&lt;br /&gt;I Can't Get No (Satisfaction) - Rolling Stones&lt;br /&gt;I Feel Good (I Got You) - James Brown&lt;br /&gt;Fast And The Furious – Teriyaki Boys&lt;br /&gt;Let's Go Crazy - Prince&lt;br /&gt;Jump - Pointer Sisters&lt;br /&gt;Twist &amp;amp; Shout - Beatles&lt;br /&gt;Walk This Way - Aerosmith&lt;br /&gt;Dancing Queen - ABBA&lt;br /&gt;Mambo #5 - Lou Bega&lt;br /&gt;Conga - Miami Sound Machine&lt;br /&gt;Baby Got Back - Sir Mix A Lot&lt;br /&gt;Lets Talk About Sex – Salt n Pepa&lt;br /&gt;Wild Thing - Tone Loc&lt;br /&gt;Whoomp! (There It Is) - Tag Team&lt;br /&gt;Pump Up The Jam - Technotronic&lt;br /&gt;Another One Bites The Dust - Queen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, one man's honey...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-286625513353288683?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/286625513353288683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=286625513353288683' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/286625513353288683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/286625513353288683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/06/love-rock.html' title='Love Rock'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Rn6Cgo1GIHI/AAAAAAAAAF0/lYIiQda9dnM/s72-c/Mauritius+Skyline.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-938191234344811031</id><published>2007-06-22T16:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-25T14:13:15.853+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movie Monologue'/><title type='text'>Movie Monologue #4</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Boiler Room&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jim Young (Ben Affleck)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078799757603119202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RnuFeI1GIGI/AAAAAAAAAFs/X_mAVqrmpQU/s200/Boiler+Room.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jim Young&lt;/em&gt;: "Okay, before we get started, I have one question, has anyone here passed a Series Seven exam?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Man&lt;/em&gt;: (raises his hand) "I have a Series Seven license."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jim Young&lt;/em&gt;: "Good for you. You can get up too."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Man&lt;/em&gt;: "What? Why?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jim Young&lt;/em&gt;: "We don't hire brokers here, we train new ones. That's it Skippy - pack your shit, let's go. (the man leaves) Okay, here's the deal, I'm not here to waste your time. Okay, I certainly hope you're not here to waste mine, so I'm gonna keep this short. Become an employee of this firm, you will make your first million within 3 years. Okay, I'm gonna repeat that, you will make a million dollars, within three years of your first day of employment at J.T. Marlin. There's no question as to whether you become a millionaire working here. The only question is, how many times over. You think I'm joking....I am not joking. I am a millionaire. It's a weird thing to hear, right? Lemme tell ya, its a weird thing to say: I am a fucking millionaire. And guess how old I am...27, you know what that makes me here? A fucking senior citizen. This firm is entirely comprised of people your age, not mine. Lucky for me, I happen to be very fucking good at my job or I'd be out of one. You guys are the new blood. You are the future swinging dicks of this firm. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now you all look money hungry and that's good. Anybody who tells you that money is the root of all evil, doesn't fucking have any. They say money can't buy happiness. Look at the fucking smile on my face! Ear to ear baby! You want details, fine. I drive a Ferrari 355 Cabriolet. What's up? (slides keys across long table) I have a ridiculous house at the South Fork. I have every toy you could possibly imagine. And best of all, I am liquid. So now you know what's possible, let me tell you what's required. You are required to work your fucking ass off at this firm. We want winners here, not pikers. A piker walks at the bell. A Piker asks how much vacation time you get in the first year. Vacation time? People come to work at this firm for one reason, to become filthy rich, that's it. We're not here to make friends, we're not saving the fucking manatees here guys. You want vacation time, go teach third grade at a public school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Okay, first three months at the firm are as a trainee, you'll make 150 dollars a week. After you've done training, you take the series seven, you pass that, you become a junior broker and you're opening accounts for your team leader. You open forty accounts you start working for yourself, the sky's the limit. A word or two about being a trainee, your friends, parents, other brokers, they're gonna give you shit about it, it's true, a 150 a week, that's not a lot of money. Pay them no mind. You need to learn this business and this is the time to to do it. Once you pass the test, none of that's gonna matter. Your friends are shit. You tell em you made 25 grand last month they're not gonna fucking believe you. Fuck them! Fuck 'em! Parents don't like the life you lead. Fuck your mom and dad. See how it feels when you're making their fucking Lexus payments. Now go home and think about it. Think about whether or not this is really for you. If you decide that it isn't, listen, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. This is not for everyone. But if you really want this, you call me on Monday and we'll talk. Just don't waste my fucking time......Okay, that's it."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-938191234344811031?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/938191234344811031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=938191234344811031' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/938191234344811031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/938191234344811031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/06/movie-monologue-4.html' title='Movie Monologue #4'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RnuFeI1GIGI/AAAAAAAAAFs/X_mAVqrmpQU/s72-c/Boiler+Room.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-4910143890354901498</id><published>2007-06-12T23:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T12:22:02.727+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movie Monologue'/><title type='text'>Movie Monologue #3</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Wallstreet&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gordon Gecko (Michael Douglas) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075397159957176402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Rm9u041GIFI/AAAAAAAAAFk/3I8Y_CKb8Zs/s200/wallstreet.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gekko&lt;/em&gt;: "Well, I appreciate the opportunity you're giving me, Mr. Cromwell, as the single largest shareholder in Teldar Paper, to speak. Well, ladies and gentlemen, we're not here to indulge in fantasy, but in political and economic reality. America, America has become a second-rate power. Its trade deficit and its fiscal deficit are at nightmare proportions. Now, in the days of the free market, when our country was a top industrial power, there was accountability to the stockholder. The Carnegies, the Mellons, the men that built this great industrial empire, made sure of it because it was their money at stake. Today, management has no stake in the company!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All together, these men sitting up here own less than 3 percent of the company. And where does Mr. Cromwell put his million-dollar salary? Not in Teldar stock; he owns less than 1 percent. You own the company. That's right -- you, the stockholder. And you are all being royally screwed over by these, these bureaucrats, with their luncheons, their hunting and fishing trips, their corporate jets and golden parachutes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cromwell&lt;/em&gt;: "This is an outrage! You're out of line, Gekko!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gekko&lt;/em&gt;: "Teldar Paper, Mr. Cromwell, Teldar Paper has 33 different vice presidents, each earning over 200 thousand dollars a year. Now, I have spent the last two months analyzing what all these guys do, and I still can't figure it out. One thing I do know is that our paper company lost 110 million dollars last year, and I'll bet that half of that was spent in all the paperwork going back and forth between all these vice presidents. The new law of evolution in corporate America seems to be survival of the unfittest. Well, in my book you either do it right or you get eliminated. In the last seven deals that I've been involved with, there were 2.5 million stockholders who have made a pretax profit of 12 billion dollars. Thank you. I am not a destroyer of companies. I am a liberator of them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point is, ladies and gentleman, that greed -- for lack of a better word -- is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Greed, in all of its forms -- greed for life, for money, for love, knowledge -- has marked the upward surge of mankind. And greed -- you mark my words -- will not only save Teldar Paper, but that other malfunctioning corporation called the USA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you very much."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-4910143890354901498?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/4910143890354901498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=4910143890354901498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4910143890354901498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4910143890354901498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/06/movie-monologue-3.html' title='Movie Monologue #3'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Rm9u041GIFI/AAAAAAAAAFk/3I8Y_CKb8Zs/s72-c/wallstreet.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-1493699620013266430</id><published>2007-05-28T21:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T21:33:22.786+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movie Monologue'/><title type='text'>Movie Monologue #2</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;V for Vendetta&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"V" (Hugo Weaving)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069603761573739570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RlrZwuCWPDI/AAAAAAAAAEk/DTsWJbikbBc/s200/v.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-1493699620013266430?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/1493699620013266430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=1493699620013266430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/1493699620013266430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/1493699620013266430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/05/movie-monologue-2.html' title='Movie Monologue #2'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RlrZwuCWPDI/AAAAAAAAAEk/DTsWJbikbBc/s72-c/v.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-867286258288784076</id><published>2007-05-28T21:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T01:12:54.484+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Senses'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movie Monologue'/><title type='text'>Movie Monologue #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Ever wondered why movies make you laugh? Cry? Rile you up? Provoke thought &amp; reflection? Look around you the next time you stick your hands into pop-corn. Notice the muted whispers that compete against silence. The enveloping dark as the screen unfolds. You’ll realize how you choose for your mind to block out, to not need or want to process the peeving sights or sounds outside of the moment. Your thoughts and senses are so focused and tuned into that giant screen and that ass-kicking THX audio system that your mind makes you believe that you ARE in the movie. (See? Note the relationship between your senses and the environment :) )  How we can engage and listen so easily and readily when our senses are placated by order.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;So indulge me while I borrow and pay tribute to genius by documenting those epic episodes that have jolted my emotional reserves and inspired me to think outside of my daily existence.  A salutation of sorts, for granting me the confidence and respect for my fellow man who have cleverly transposed thought to paper, and to remarkable speech and gesture from another.  If greed and ambition are driving Hollywood, then by golly let the powers that be continue stoking the ambers of lust for as long as the sun shines.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Here’s hoping that these monologues will never see their final curtains.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Reservoir Dogs&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mr. Brown (Quentin Tarantino)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069600012067290146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RlrWWeCWPCI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Phv0CAYOCbE/s200/reservoirdog.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;"Let me tell you what Like a Virgin's about. It's all about a girl who digs a guy with a big dick. The entire song . . . it's a metaphor for big dicks. Like a Virgin's not about some sensitive girl who meets a nice fella. That's what True Blue's about. Granted, no argument about that. Ok. Let me tell you what Like a Virgin's about. It's all about this cooz who's a regular fuck machine. I'm talking morning, day, night, afternoon . . . dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick. Then one day she meets this John Holmes motherfucker, and it's like, whoa baby. This cat is like Charles Bronson in the great escape. He's digging tunnels. She's getting this serious dick action and feeling something she ain't felt since forever . . . pain. Pain. It hurts. It hurts her. It shouldn't hurt her. Her pussy should be bubbleyum by now, but when this cat fucks her, it hurts. It hurts just like it did the first time. You see, the pain is reminding a fuck machine what it was like to be a virgin. Hence . . . Like a Virgin."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-867286258288784076?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/867286258288784076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=867286258288784076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/867286258288784076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/867286258288784076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/05/movie-monologue-1.html' title='Movie Monologue #1'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RlrWWeCWPCI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Phv0CAYOCbE/s72-c/reservoirdog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-7288163399164893764</id><published>2007-05-28T18:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T21:01:24.595+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Senses'/><title type='text'>Do you see what I see?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069585967524232146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RlrJk-CWO9I/AAAAAAAAAD0/lXoOZDyLrH4/s200/senses+modified.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ever stop to think of what a blind man sees? Or what a mute wants to say? Or how deafening a deaf girl's thoughts are? Or what a limbless person wants to physically accomplish? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069586087783316450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RlrJr-CWO-I/AAAAAAAAAD8/QWvLe6u7Xes/s200/stephenhawkings.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;While most of us are privileged to be born equipped with the 5 senses, we never make the attempt to understand what they mean to us, and how they contribute to our psyche and our mental and spiritual constitution. We fail to optimize these gifts even through their simple and regular use, what more honing them. I hear comments like “Are you blind?”, “You deaf?”, “Why don’t you listen..” (etc) flung around innocently yet appearing to be insensitively mocking in tone on a daily basis. Why? Because to a large extent, we actually &lt;em&gt;are&lt;/em&gt;. Guilty as charged.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There is no doubt that despite our prejudices, our interaction with others contributes to life lessons that help us grow. But how willing are we to listen? To learn? How fast do we grow? Have we cruised through life at its minimum required constant speed, or have we lagged? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If we were given one (or a few) less sense(s) to live with, we would be desensitized somewhat, and be less byzantine. We would instead even possibly excel in engaging in one certain other God-given sense. Communication activity between our brain and our nervous system would be less cluttered and more focused on synaptic transmission generated from the residual senses. Our thought processes less distracted and more centered. The absence of an object of reliance frees and dedicates neural resource to the less that we have. We become more attuned to our environment and more responsive on how we choose to interact with it. We will be able to see the beauty within life itself and within the people that we share our lives with, not be hampered by complexity, and be blind to hate and prejudice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069586255287041010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RlrJ1uCWO_I/AAAAAAAAAEE/kXaTmybncgQ/s200/dd+gabrielle+dell%27otto.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;Maybe this is why and how some folk actually develop ESP. How some display intuitive capabilities that we label as magic or worse, devil worship, because it defies our limited logic. Because our logic, which in itself cries arrogance, is 'man' made and is highly and grossly fallible by divine measure or some higher alien life-form standard. We thump our chests and think we see all, we hear all, we know all. But are we really equipped and born capable enough to see the &lt;em&gt;real&lt;/em&gt; green mass that we believe to be the forest instead of the trees?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069586439970634754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RlrKAeCWPAI/AAAAAAAAAEM/D1C6TDESCKo/s200/uri+geller+%26+friend.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Kids, for example, are gifted with more simple thought processes by virtue of time, but many have been scientifically tested to be able to sense the spiritual, despite our ridicule that we charge them with as a result of our ignorance. This begets the question of who really are their &lt;em&gt;imaginary friends. &lt;/em&gt;Because of and despite our adult wisdom and so-called 'oneness' with life, we will never be able to see what they do. Perhaps we need to be more respectful and cautiously take heed of what we do not understand before we decide to shrug off their 'childish nonsense' the next time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069587165820107794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RlrKquCWPBI/AAAAAAAAAEU/Vi8689COP_8/s200/sixthsense.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;So. Are we cursed? Or blessed? Is being &lt;em&gt;normal&lt;/em&gt; a handicap? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well, I for one am convinced that despite our sensory shortcomings, we &lt;em&gt;are&lt;/em&gt; adequate. And we really should be grateful for the squinty eyes, the misshaped nose, the ten stubby fingers and toes that we were born with. We would be at the bottom of the food chain and fighting against protozoa for oxygen if not (and I certainly wouldn't be ranting like the crazed ol' coot that I can be). Life was meant to be a challenge and most of us are all playing on a level field armed with the same tools and equipment (with the occasional exception of Mr Peter North and his ilk). The rules of engagement have just been designed the way that they are. In the final analysis, we will be judged on the choices that we have made, and we will not be able to put it down to being physically handicapped when our scorecards reflect how morally challenged we have been instead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So keep the kitchen knife where it belongs and do not be encouraged to rip out your eyes or cut-off your tongue. Yet. Just laying out some finger food on the thought platter… &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-7288163399164893764?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/7288163399164893764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=7288163399164893764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/7288163399164893764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/7288163399164893764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/05/do-you-see-what-i-see.html' title='Do you see what I see?'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RlrJk-CWO9I/AAAAAAAAAD0/lXoOZDyLrH4/s72-c/senses+modified.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-5096622610159562239</id><published>2007-04-29T19:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T21:25:03.694+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Grow up?  Never.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RjSF82TNnSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/X0rm9UfhAmA/s1600-h/Peter+Pan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058815561858653474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RjSF82TNnSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/X0rm9UfhAmA/s200/Peter+Pan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There is absolutely nothing wrong with being “childish”. Society has become so disillusioned with its competitive pursuits throughout time, of being emotionally superior, more technologically advanced, financially empowered, and intellectually primed, that certain traits are unfortunately wrongly attributed as child-like. For example, the act of crying is perceived as a character flaw, a sign of weakness, which are attributed to babies. An inability to forgive is also perceived to be a child-like quality. Not pursuing the rat-race and achieving high standards of material gain are also scorned as not ‘grown up’. All quite the opposite, actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are essentially beasts at our core and our emotional reactions to love and hate are instinctive. The difference between our furry four legged friends and the human species is that our brains allow us to make choices and to a certain extent regulate our instincts. Theirs don’t. In a communal mass, these choices, often translated into action, are aggregated into the development of social morality. A natural and unexplainable sense of knowing what is right and wrong, of good versus evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Children have the same feelings of hurt and joy as adults do. But they do not have the benefit of wisdom, that is a collection of different applications of our knowledge and the resulting experiences thereof, throughout their relatively limited time horizons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058869244654886242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RjS2xmTNnWI/AAAAAAAAACU/tuTAdYt_7eE/s200/olivescreams.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As a child, we do not enjoy disappointing others, as we similarly do not enjoy the feeling of being disappointed. We absorb and live in the moment and approach each experience as something new, fascinating and relevant. We bear no grudge nor resentment in our relationships. We are life’s greatest students.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In comparison, as adults, we have grown aloof in our relationships, not thinking twice about disappointment, treating it as a normal feature in life, as we have grown used to it and as there is no guide to correct that feeling of loneliness when it does transpire. We develop an arrogance that is borne out of rejection and our resulting defense to it, and consequently shut ourselves out to the discovery of life’s bountiful offerings. It is this arrogance that we also think that our standards are the right ones, and we harbor varying degrees of ill-will to those who do not share them. We become life’s worst cancer. It has degenerated en masse into an irreversible, incurable and invisible plague that has devoured society’s fabric of faith and love, as evidenced by betrayal and wars that have marked the passages of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is the answer to living a life that is full. And what does being a child have to do with any of it. If we could formulate life and our approach to it into a few variables, it would be this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wisdom = Experience x Time&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Experience = Attitude + f(Manifestation and Application of Thought into Action)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wisdom = Attitude + f(Manifestation and Application of Thought into Action) x Time&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wisdom is the measure of experience that we gain throughout time. And our experience is the summation of our attitudes employed with a factor of how we have translated them into thought and action. This equates to wisdom being a summation of our attitudes and how we have translated them into thought and action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it is that if we remove time, which is a measure of our progression in life, wisdom would still be demonstrated as the sum of all our attitudes, that are governed by our emotions that we choose in dictating our approach to life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point is this. Do not become bitter victims of age. Do not be jaded by the negatives in life, but approach each experience positively and charge yourself with enthusiasm. You do not need to be an adult to experience positive emotions and to exercise constructive actions. To view life through the eyes of a child, would be a big improvement from where we all are now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about it. Slow down for a minute and consider stopping for a breather. Invest a few minutes of your life blossoming, instead of wasting a few days ageing and dying. And think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There really isn’t any point making the wrong choices in life. Come to an early realization. Do not become slaves to time. Do not sign up as pawns to today's social normalcy. Do not give in to hate, envy, greed, and ignorant prejudices. Because you can make the choices on how you want to feel. You are in charge. You are one spirit. You are your own spirit. There is only one brain, one heart, that rules over who you are. And there is no other who can be more responsible for who you can potentially be. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058864726349290834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RjSyqmTNnVI/AAAAAAAAACM/pfDUNm5M6Bw/s200/69234205.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Go play. We came into this life as kids. And we shall leave as kids. What happens in between those fifty, or sixty, or seventy years, is a product that you create. Do not grow up into such ‘adults’ that we forget to live our lives as children. We were not born to be politicians, policemen, soldiers, kings and rulers. We were all born equal and we will all die equal. Do not choose to fight. Do not choose to give in to pessimism. Keep a safe distance from the frills and distractions in life so that you are not swallowed whole by them. Instead approach them simplistically and with an awareness and a willingness to learn and with gratitude if they become gifts. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058864361277070658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RjSyVWTNnUI/AAAAAAAAACE/icwxgvF4tlQ/s200/wtv8g300.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Love like a child. Unconditionally and perhaps even innocently. Do not expect anything back. Go back to basics and strip 'complexities' down to their bare bones. Because life really isn't at all that complicated. When we make a conscious effort to choose and to constantly communicate this message through our attitudes and deeds to all throughout our time on earth, I am confident that our lives will be more fulfilling and meaningful. Our world, that much more a wonderful home to experience and share our lives in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And only because everyone loves a child. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-5096622610159562239?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/5096622610159562239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=5096622610159562239' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/5096622610159562239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/5096622610159562239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/04/grow-up-never.html' title='Grow up?  Never.'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/RjSF82TNnSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/X0rm9UfhAmA/s72-c/Peter+Pan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-176933874276753267</id><published>2007-04-25T15:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T11:52:12.269+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>It</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Ri8YTGTNnGI/AAAAAAAAAAU/PijVYM1Bt9I/s1600-h/joker+harley.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057287622948133986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Ri8YTGTNnGI/AAAAAAAAAAU/PijVYM1Bt9I/s200/joker+harley.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; How we fight for It. How we yearn to experience It. To be a part of It. How we sacrifice what is dear in our reckless pursuit for It. How its absence, its resulting betrayal, can warp its delicate form. And how vengence, pride, hatred, lust and greed, can banish it from our hearts, minds, and fleeting souls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it is not beyond imagination and mortal fathom that many have fallen in the Quest, unable to be charged with the requisite vigour in rising again and facing It. But in the same vein, so many have continued to soldier the journey and challenge the odds, blessed by the aid and gift of Fate's hand. Some will persevere and will know it, live it, and will with natural ease, be living sacrements and messengers of divine expression to the mass of fallen and broken spirits. While many of the initiated make worthy attempts at communicating this expression, none embody its truest significance better than an age old Corinthian inspired script;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love is patient, love is kind. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be tolerant. Be benevolent. Be thankful. Be humble. Be polite. Be patient. Be calm. Be forgiving. Be sincere. And you shall find It no further away than behind your left coat pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Legion, despite your propensity to fight, I also live because you can love. Because I can love. Because I am loved. But by the high heavens, do not be mistaken. Love, in all its fruitful splendour, is also the heaviest and sharpest double-edged bastard sword that hovers with its pointed tip delicately kissing the skin over your hearts... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-176933874276753267?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/176933874276753267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=176933874276753267' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/176933874276753267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/176933874276753267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/04/it.html' title='It'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Ri8YTGTNnGI/AAAAAAAAAAU/PijVYM1Bt9I/s72-c/joker+harley.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5121417319590233619.post-4379548518881805002</id><published>2007-04-04T23:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T10:49:20.466+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Last First Day'/><title type='text'>When The Bells Chimed</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r2/kayeldiablo/hulkcg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r2/kayeldiablo/hulkcg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And so it was, that on the Last First Day, our Hero finally got off his epic ass, and started to transpose his frenetic thoughts into script with rapture and in a burst of renewed vigor. Ironically, the contemporary silence that enveloped his daily lethargy lay a deafening blow on his once ethereal and razor fine senses. His arrogance of rule and power was once more piqued and his burning ambition to hold dominion over this new Earth glowed like searing coal in a fired-up furnace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In labouring to make speech, dried flaking tissue crumbled from his lips, and streams of blood channelled along the fine cracks accross what was once living flesh, marking the ravages of subdued silence around the corners of his mouth. As he spoke, his fingers motioned in concert on the instrument pad that lay inanimate before him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And his message was this -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Legion. Prepare to prostate your weak and degenerating frames before me. For you will serve me as knights in my war for the Crown in this forsaken and trecherous realm of Cyberspace! And you shall all find life once more. &lt;strong&gt;For your KING IS BACK&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now. Where do I begin...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5121417319590233619-4379548518881805002?l=patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/feeds/4379548518881805002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5121417319590233619&amp;postID=4379548518881805002' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4379548518881805002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5121417319590233619/posts/default/4379548518881805002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patiodeldiablo.blogspot.com/2007/04/when-bells-chimed.html' title='When The Bells Chimed'/><author><name>eldiablo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12541084991443328393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qahxXnY-tIk/Sk-HxDABmzI/AAAAAAAAAdI/eCrOKxlkkRk/S220/2706620596_2e72283c0d_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
