<?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-5646034</id><updated>2011-04-22T04:52:10.407+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sala 5</title><subtitle type='html'>Pequenos momentos de magia</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>21</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106192801417865703</id><published>2003-08-26T21:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T21:00:14.213+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://pwp.netcabo.pt/miguel.nogueira/sala010.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106192801417865703?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106192801417865703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106192801417865703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106192801417865703' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106192792582306844</id><published>2003-08-26T20:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T20:58:57.606+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>36      EXT     TYRANNOSAUR PADDOCK     DAY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        The two Explorers drive along a high ridge and stop at the edge &lt;br /&gt;        of the large, open plain that is separated from the road by a fifteen-&lt;br /&gt;        foot fence, clearly marked with "DANGER!" signs and ominous-looking &lt;br /&gt;        electrical post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        TIM, LEX, and GENNARO are pressed forward against the windows, &lt;br /&gt;        eyes wide, waiting for you-know-who.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        IN THE REAR CAR,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        The voice of the radio drones on, but GRANT, ELLIE, and MALCOLM &lt;br /&gt;        aren't even listening anymore, dying of anticipation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                VOICE (O.S.)&lt;br /&gt;                The mighty tyrannosaurus arose late in the dinosaur&lt;br /&gt;                history.  Dinosaurs ruled the earth for hundred and &lt;br /&gt;                fifty million years, but it wasn't until the last- -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                GRANT&lt;br /&gt;                Will you turn that thing off?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Ellie flips a switch and they wait in silence - - except for &lt;br /&gt;        Malcolm, who looks at the ceiling, thinking aloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                MALCOLM&lt;br /&gt;                God creates dinosaurs.  God destroys dinosaurs.  God &lt;br /&gt;                creates man.  Man destroys God.  Man creates dinosaurs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                ELLIE&lt;br /&gt;                        (finishing it for him)&lt;br /&gt;                Dinosaur eats man.  Woman inherits the Earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                ARNOLD (O.S.)&lt;br /&gt;                Hold on, we'll try to tempt the rex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        IN THE PADDOCK,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        there is a low HUMMING sound.  Out in the middle of the field, a &lt;br /&gt;        small cage rises up into view, lifted on hydraulics from underground.&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;        The cage bars slide down, leaving the cage's occupant standing &lt;br /&gt;        alone in the middle of the field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        It's a goat, one leg chained to a stake.  It looks around, &lt;br /&gt;        confused, and BLEATS plaintively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        IN THE FRONT CAR,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        LEX and TIM look at the goat with widely different reactions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                LEX&lt;br /&gt;                What's going to happen to the goat?  He's going to eat &lt;br /&gt;                the goat?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                TIM&lt;br /&gt;                        (in heaven)&lt;br /&gt;                Excellent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                GENNARO&lt;br /&gt;                        (to Lex)&lt;br /&gt;                What's the matter, kid, you never had lamb chops?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                LEX&lt;br /&gt;                I happen to be a vegetarian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        IN THE REAR CAR,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                GRANT&lt;br /&gt;                (shakes his head)&lt;br /&gt;        T-rex doesn't want to be fed; he wants to hunt.  You&lt;br /&gt;        can't just suppress sixty-five million years of gut &lt;br /&gt;        instinct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        IN THE PADDOCK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        The goat waits.  And waits.  From the Explorers, six faces watch &lt;br /&gt;        it expectantly.  The goat tugs on its chain.  It walks back and forth, &lt;br /&gt;        nervous.  It BLEATS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        IN THE REAR CAR,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Grant watches, his eyes glued, his breathing becoming a little &lt;br /&gt;        more rapid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        IN THE FRONT CAR,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Tim and Lex can't tear their eyes away,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        IN THE PADDOCK,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        finally, the goat - -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        - - lays down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        IN THE REAR CAR,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        everyone sits back, disappointed again, as the cars pull forward &lt;br /&gt;        to continue the tour.  Malcolm picks up the microphone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                MALCOLM&lt;br /&gt;                Now, eventually you do plan to have dinosaurs on your &lt;br /&gt;                dinosaur tour, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt;&lt;i&gt; in &lt;a href="http://imdb.com/Title?0107290" target="_blank"&gt;Jurassic Park&lt;/a&gt; (1973) Realização: Steven Spielberg / Argumento: Michael Crichton &amp; David Koepp - &lt;A HREF="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00004W4GS/sala5-21"&gt;DVD&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106192792582306844?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106192792582306844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106192792582306844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106192792582306844' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106072655197635850</id><published>2003-08-12T23:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T23:16:00.750+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://pwp.netcabo.pt/miguel.nogueira/sala009.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106072655197635850?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106072655197635850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106072655197635850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106072655197635850' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106072646153061118</id><published>2003-08-12T23:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T23:14:21.626+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>31	INT. DENTAL CLINIC - NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	The poker table, and dental chair have been removed to make room for two&lt;br /&gt;	long tables from the Mess Hall.  At these a sumptuous, candle-lit, stag&lt;br /&gt;	banquet is coming to an end.  The guests are doctors, administrative&lt;br /&gt;	officers, chopper pilots and enlisted men.  Duke is on his feet, raising&lt;br /&gt;	a glass of champagne in a toast.  (All our male cast except Henry and&lt;br /&gt;	Frank)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				DUKE&lt;br /&gt;		    Y'all come here to say a final&lt;br /&gt;		    goodbye to our old friend Walt.&lt;br /&gt;		    But maybe it ain't so final.&lt;br /&gt;		    Maybe he's just going on ahead&lt;br /&gt;		    into the Unknown to do a little&lt;br /&gt;		    recon job for us all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	During this tribute the guests rise, their eyes on the guest of honor, who&lt;br /&gt;	sits with his food untouched, a vacant expression on his face.  When Duke&lt;br /&gt;	has finished and everyone has drunk the toast, they applaud and sit down&lt;br /&gt;	again.  Trapper raps for attention and indicates Hawkeye, who rises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				HAWKEYE&lt;br /&gt;		    I just got this one thing to say.&lt;br /&gt;		    Nobody ordered Walt to take on this&lt;br /&gt;		    mission.  He volunteered, for&lt;br /&gt;		    certain death.  That's what we&lt;br /&gt;		    award our highest medal for.  That's&lt;br /&gt;		    what being a soldier is all about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	Except for Painless himself, the gathering is deeply moved by this thought,&lt;br /&gt;	some of them to the point of tears.  Again Trapper restores order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				TRAPPER&lt;br /&gt;		    Only one man here can add anything&lt;br /&gt;		    to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	He looks to Dago Red, who stands up, dressed for the first time in the&lt;br /&gt;	priestly vestments he wears for Sunday Mass.  He walks to where Painless&lt;br /&gt;	sits and there begins the viaticum (holy communion for those in danger of&lt;br /&gt;	death).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				DAGO RED&lt;br /&gt;		    Receive, my brother, this food&lt;br /&gt;		    for your journey...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	A coffin, borne into the room by two enlisted men while Red is still&lt;br /&gt;	speaking, is lined with blankets, equipped with a pillow for comfortable&lt;br /&gt;	reclining prior to the onset of death, and furnished with momentos of&lt;br /&gt;	Painless' earthly career: two fresh decks of cards, a box of poker chips,&lt;br /&gt;	a fifth of scotch, some basic dental instruments and the photographs of&lt;br /&gt;	his three fiancees.  It is set down on the floor next to Painless, who&lt;br /&gt;	regards it with the first show of interest he has manifested during the&lt;br /&gt;	proceedings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				DAGO RED&lt;br /&gt;			  (bestowing the&lt;br /&gt;			  sacred host)&lt;br /&gt;		    ...The body of our Lord Jesus&lt;br /&gt;		    Christ, that He may guard you from&lt;br /&gt;		    the wicked enemy and lead you into&lt;br /&gt;		    everlasting life.  Amen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	Red is making the sign of the Cross when Painless' curiousity asserts&lt;br /&gt;	itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				PAINLESS&lt;br /&gt;		    What the hell's that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				TRAPPER&lt;br /&gt;		    Coffin.  Yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				PAINLESS&lt;br /&gt;		    I'm not even dead yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				HAWKEYE&lt;br /&gt;		    You're a pretty heavy guy to lug&lt;br /&gt;		    around.  Be a hell of a lot more&lt;br /&gt;		    convenient for everybody if you got&lt;br /&gt;		    into the box as soon as you've&lt;br /&gt;		    taken the capsule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	He produces and opens a small box, inside which, surrounded by pure white&lt;br /&gt;	cotton, a black capsule is displayed like a rare jewel.  Dago Red,&lt;br /&gt;	meanwhile, preferring not to know what happens from here on, makes his&lt;br /&gt;	way out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				PAINLESS&lt;br /&gt;			  (scrutinizing the&lt;br /&gt;			  capsule)&lt;br /&gt;		    How do you take it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				DUKE&lt;br /&gt;			  (appearing at his&lt;br /&gt;			  side with tumbler&lt;br /&gt;			  of whiskey)&lt;br /&gt;		    With whiskey.  A good swallow&lt;br /&gt;		    first and a big one afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;		    Speeds it into the bloodstream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	Painless takes the tumbler from him with one hand, the capsule with the&lt;br /&gt;	other.  He downs a good-sized swig of whiskey, then, with the capsule in&lt;br /&gt;	front of his face, hesitates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				PAINLESS&lt;br /&gt;		    You guys sure this'll do the job?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				DUKE&lt;br /&gt;		    We wouldn't give you nothing but&lt;br /&gt;		    the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				TRAPPER&lt;br /&gt;		    We stand behind all our work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				HAWKEYE&lt;br /&gt;		    You want it straight?  Medical&lt;br /&gt;		    history records no instance of&lt;br /&gt;		    anyone taking this particular&lt;br /&gt;		    prescription and surviving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				PAINLESS&lt;br /&gt;		    Here goes nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	He pops the capsule into his mouth and washes it down with a large drink&lt;br /&gt;	of whiskey.  Hawkeye gestures to the waiting coffin.  Painless gets up&lt;br /&gt;	and lowers himself into it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				PAINLESS&lt;br /&gt;		    How much time do I have?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				HAWKEYE&lt;br /&gt;		    Just about enough to say goodbye&lt;br /&gt;		    to everybody.&lt;br /&gt;			  (announcing)&lt;br /&gt;		    Line up over here, men, if you&lt;br /&gt;		    want to pay your last respects.&lt;br /&gt;		    Keep moving and file on out when&lt;br /&gt;		    you're through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				PAINLESS&lt;br /&gt;		    I wonder, if Red's fix swings it&lt;br /&gt;		    for me, what's heaven really like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				TRAPPER&lt;br /&gt;		    It's a bedroom where a man is&lt;br /&gt;		    always at his peak and doesn't&lt;br /&gt;		    have to take any time outs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				HAWKEYE&lt;br /&gt;		    And all the angels are built like&lt;br /&gt;		    Lieutenant Dish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	The Last Supper guests are filing by the coffin, bending low to shake&lt;br /&gt;	Painless' hand and murmur words of farewell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;				DUKE&lt;br /&gt;		    Drink up, Walt.  One for the&lt;br /&gt;		    glory road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	He holds the glass to Painless' lips, helps him down the rest of the&lt;br /&gt;	whiskey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt;&lt;i&gt;in &lt;a href="http://us.imdb.com/Title?0066026" target="_blank"&gt;MASH&lt;/a&gt; (1970) Realização: Robert Altman / Argumento: Ring Lardner Jr. - &lt;A HREF="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00005UWTI/sala5-21" target="_blank"&gt;DVD&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106072646153061118?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106072646153061118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106072646153061118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106072646153061118' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106065600244122361</id><published>2003-08-12T03:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T03:40:02.343+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://pwp.netcabo.pt/miguel.nogueira/sala008.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106065600244122361?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106065600244122361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106065600244122361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106065600244122361' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106065594837881412</id><published>2003-08-12T03:39:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T04:02:10.830+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>NARRATOR:&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time in a faraway land&lt;br /&gt;a young prince lived in a shining castle.&lt;br /&gt;Although he had everything his heart desired&lt;br /&gt;the prince was spoiled, selfish and unkind.&lt;br /&gt;But then, one winter's night&lt;br /&gt;an old beggar woman came to the castle&lt;br /&gt;and offered him a single rose&lt;br /&gt;in return for shelter from the bitter cold.&lt;br /&gt;Repulsed by her haggard appearance,&lt;br /&gt;the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away.&lt;br /&gt;But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances,&lt;br /&gt;for beauty is found within.&lt;br /&gt;And when he dismissed her again,&lt;br /&gt;the old woman's ugliness melted away&lt;br /&gt;to reveal a beautiful enchantress.&lt;br /&gt;The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late&lt;br /&gt;for she had seen that there was no love in his heart.&lt;br /&gt;And as a punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast,&lt;br /&gt;and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there.&lt;br /&gt;Ashamed of his monstrous form,&lt;br /&gt;the beast concealed himself inside his castle&lt;br /&gt;with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world.&lt;br /&gt;The rose she had offered&lt;br /&gt;was truly and enchanted rose&lt;br /&gt;which would bloom until his 21st year.&lt;br /&gt;If he could learn to love another&lt;br /&gt;and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell,&lt;br /&gt;then the spell would be broken.&lt;br /&gt;If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.&lt;br /&gt;As the years passed&lt;br /&gt;he fell into despair and lost all hope, &lt;br /&gt;for who could ever learn to love&lt;br /&gt;a beast?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt;&lt;i&gt;in &lt;a href="http://us.imdb.com/Title?0101414" target="_blank"&gt;Beauty and the Beast&lt;/a&gt; (1991) Realização: Gary Trousdale &amp; Kirk Wise / Argumento: Roger Allers &amp; Kelly Asbury &amp; others - &lt;A HREF="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00006JI1R/sala5-21" target="_blank"&gt;DVD&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106065594837881412?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106065594837881412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106065594837881412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106065594837881412' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106045201542918633</id><published>2003-08-09T19:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-09T19:00:31.410+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://pwp.netcabo.pt/miguel.nogueira/sala007.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106045201542918633?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106045201542918633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106045201542918633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106045201542918633' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106045179144317642</id><published>2003-08-09T18:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-09T19:01:36.653+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;embed src="http://pwp.netcabo.pt/miguel.nogueira/sorrow.mov" autostart="false" loop="false" width="128" height="20"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106045179144317642?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106045179144317642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106045179144317642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106045179144317642' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106044753442118067</id><published>2003-08-09T17:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T04:04:56.900+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>SONG:&lt;br /&gt; I am a man of constant sorrow  &lt;br /&gt; I've seen trouble all my day.  &lt;br /&gt; I bid farewell to old Kentucky  &lt;br /&gt; The place where I was born and raised.  &lt;br /&gt; (The place where he was born and raised ) &lt;br /&gt; For six long years I've been in trouble  &lt;br /&gt; No pleasures here on earth I found  &lt;br /&gt; For in this world I'm bound to ramble  &lt;br /&gt; I have no friends to help me now.  &lt;br /&gt; (chorus) He has no friends to help him now  &lt;br /&gt; It's fare thee well my old lover  &lt;br /&gt; I never expect to see you again  &lt;br /&gt; For I'm bound to ride that northern railroad  &lt;br /&gt; Perhaps I'll die upon this train.  &lt;br /&gt; (chorus) Perhaps he'll die upon this train.  &lt;br /&gt; You can bury me in some deep valley  &lt;br /&gt; For many years where I may lay  &lt;br /&gt; Then you may learn to love another  &lt;br /&gt; While I am sleeping in my grave.  &lt;br /&gt; (chorus) While he is sleeping in his grave.  &lt;br /&gt; Maybe your friends think I'm just a stranger  &lt;br /&gt; My face you'll never see no more.  &lt;br /&gt; But there is one promise that is given  &lt;br /&gt; I'll meet you on God's golden shore.  &lt;br /&gt; (chorus) He'll meet you on God's golden shore.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt;&lt;i&gt;in &lt;a href="http://us.imdb.com/Title?0190590" target="_blank"&gt;O Brother, Where Art Thou?&lt;/a&gt; (2000) Realização: Joel Coen / Argumento: Joel Coen &amp; Ethan Coen - &lt;A HREF="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00005QX8O/sala5-21" target="_blank"&gt;DVD&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106044753442118067?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106044753442118067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106044753442118067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106044753442118067' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106037083701625009</id><published>2003-08-08T20:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-08T20:27:17.026+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://pwp.netcabo.pt/miguel.nogueira/sala006.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106037083701625009?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106037083701625009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106037083701625009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106037083701625009' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106037072115684862</id><published>2003-08-08T20:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T04:06:46.793+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>HUBERT:&lt;br /&gt;C'est l'histoire d'une société qui tombe&lt;br /&gt;et qui, au fur et à mesure de sa chute,&lt;br /&gt;se répète, pour se rassurer:&lt;br /&gt;Jusqu'ici, tout va bien,&lt;br /&gt;Jusqu'ici, tout va bien,&lt;br /&gt;Jusqu'ici, tout va bien.&lt;br /&gt;L'important, c'est pas la chute...&lt;br /&gt;C'est l'atterrissage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt;&lt;i&gt;in &lt;a href="http://us.imdb.com/Title?0113247" target="_blank"&gt;La Haine&lt;/a&gt; (1995) Realização e Argumento: Mathieu Kassovitz - &lt;A HREF="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000056Q9U/sala5-21" target="_blank"&gt;DVD&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106037072115684862?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106037072115684862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106037072115684862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106037072115684862' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106031499206510379</id><published>2003-08-08T04:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-08T04:56:32.083+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://pwp.netcabo.pt/miguel.nogueira/sala005.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106031499206510379?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106031499206510379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106031499206510379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106031499206510379' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106031494678177125</id><published>2003-08-08T04:55:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-11T05:29:54.050+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>28 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - MUCH LATER - NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;Carol Anne and Robbie are asleep next to Diane and Steve. The TV been left on and the National&lt;br /&gt;Anthem starts to play... &lt;br /&gt;CLOSE - FAMILY &lt;br /&gt;Various positions, asleep. &lt;br /&gt;28-A SLOWLY MOVE IN CLOSER TO THE TELEVISION &lt;br /&gt;The pre-recorded voice of the station manager signs off. A beat...Transmission ceases and the soft&lt;br /&gt;roar of dead air fills the room as the static white snow colors the walls, making shadows flicker&lt;br /&gt;and warp. &lt;br /&gt;It is only now that we first hear it. A SOUND Intermingling with the TV hiss, like a bad&lt;br /&gt;connection from far, far away. A whisper. Not one, but hundreds of them. They say nothing. It’s a&lt;br /&gt;chorus, tonal and inviting. &lt;br /&gt;28-B CLOSE - CAROL ANNE &lt;br /&gt;She turns on her side. And her eyes open surreally. Ever so slowly, she turns her head until fully&lt;br /&gt;facing the TV. Carol Anne smiles. A smile much too sophisticated for a five year old child. &lt;br /&gt;28-C CLOSE - TV SCREEN&lt;br /&gt;The snow mixes with new imagery. Forms. Vague but luminous. Always mingling.&lt;br /&gt;Impressionistic. Never hard-lined. &lt;br /&gt;CAROL ANNE&lt;br /&gt;(whispering)&lt;br /&gt;Come out...come out... &lt;br /&gt;The picture tube starts to SNAP! Little flashes momentarily blind Carol Anne. She blinks and tries&lt;br /&gt;to see deeper. SNAP! CRACK! It's as if flashbulbs were being emitted. Steven and Diane turn&lt;br /&gt;fitfully but remain asleep. FLASH! POP! Robbie is close to waking. &lt;br /&gt;28-D CLOSE - CAROL ANNE&lt;br /&gt;Smiling, on her knees now...she reaches out toward the TV screen when... SOMETHING&lt;br /&gt;REACHES BACK. A Substance. A form, like a wispy, smoky tentacle twists forward,&lt;br /&gt;EXTENDING FROM THE PICTURE TUBE and snaking into the Freeling bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;Transparent and cold, it gives birth to itself, builds upon its own energy, growing brighter as it&lt;br /&gt;seems to hover above Carol Anne, then tower over the family asleep in the king-size bed. &lt;br /&gt;28-E CLOSE - CAROL ANNE &lt;br /&gt;She must bend her neck to look all the way up at the ceiling where this cyclonic shape waltzes..&lt;br /&gt;.studying...a the room, then Carol Anne... &lt;br /&gt;AN EXPLOSION from the TV set. The brightest flash yet experienced. A force that expells the&lt;br /&gt;intruder from the set and into the room. Catapulting it past the family and into the wall RIGHT&lt;br /&gt;OVER THE BED, where it leaves a dark pencil dot stain. The entire room shakes and the family&lt;br /&gt;is awake and panicked. &lt;br /&gt;The window cracks, the curtain rod slips. Books and mementos fall from the open hutch. The&lt;br /&gt;medicine cabinet opens and prescription medicine splatters on the tiled floor. The room lights flare&lt;br /&gt;then die. Every picture topples from the walls. &lt;br /&gt;28-F&lt;br /&gt;Just as quickly as it began, the episode ceases. A HUSH descends. Everyone looks at Carol Anne.&lt;br /&gt;Carol Anne looks at everyone...then intones, almost matter-of-factly. &lt;br /&gt;CAROL ANNE &lt;br /&gt;They're here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt;&lt;i&gt;in &lt;a href="http://us.imdb.com/Title?0084516" target="_blank"&gt;Poltergeist&lt;/a&gt; (1982) Realização: Tobe Hooper / Argumento: Steven Spielberg &amp; Michael Grais &amp; Mark Victor&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106031494678177125?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106031494678177125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106031494678177125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106031494678177125' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106029638113351272</id><published>2003-08-07T23:46:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T04:10:49.753+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>CALLAHAN:&lt;br /&gt;I know what you’re thinking. Did he fire six shots or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I’ve kinda lost track myself. But being this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off—you’ve got to ask yourself one question: &lt;br /&gt;Do I feel lucky? &lt;br /&gt;Well, do ya, punk? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt;&lt;i&gt;in &lt;a href="http://us.imdb.com/Title?0066999" target="_blank"&gt;Dirty Harry&lt;/a&gt; (1971) Realização: Don Siegel / Argumento: Harry Julian Fink &amp; Rita M. Fink &amp; Dean Riesner - &lt;A HREF="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00005TNZE/sala5-21" target="_blank"&gt;DVD&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106029638113351272?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106029638113351272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106029638113351272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106029638113351272' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106029641900139618</id><published>2003-08-07T23:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-07T23:46:59.043+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://pwp.netcabo.pt/miguel.nogueira/sala004.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106029641900139618?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106029641900139618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106029641900139618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106029641900139618' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106029635797265072</id><published>2003-08-07T23:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-07T23:45:57.876+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://pwp.netcabo.pt/miguel.nogueira/sala003.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106029635797265072?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106029635797265072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106029635797265072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106029635797265072' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106029616539134953</id><published>2003-08-07T23:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T04:12:35.676+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>                           SANCHEZ&lt;br /&gt;               ...Let's be honest here.  Twenty million&lt;br /&gt;               dollars is more money than these people&lt;br /&gt;               have ever dreamed of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Erin has no patience for this today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                              ERIN&lt;br /&gt;               Oh, see, now that pisses me off.  First&lt;br /&gt;               of all -- since the demur, we now have&lt;br /&gt;               more than four hundred plaintiffs...and&lt;br /&gt;                            (mocking her)&lt;br /&gt;               "let's be honest", we all know there's&lt;br /&gt;               more out there. Now, they may not be the&lt;br /&gt;               most sophisticated people, but they do&lt;br /&gt;               know how to divide, and twenty million&lt;br /&gt;               dollars isn't shit when it's split&lt;br /&gt;               between them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Donald and Anna exchange a look.  This is getting&lt;br /&gt;     interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                              ED&lt;br /&gt;               Erin --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     But there's no stopping her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                              ERIN&lt;br /&gt;               And second of all -- these people don't&lt;br /&gt;               dream about being rich.  They dream about&lt;br /&gt;               being able to watch their kids swim in a&lt;br /&gt;               pool without worrying they'll have to&lt;br /&gt;               have a hysterectomy at age 20, like Rosa&lt;br /&gt;               Diaz -- a client of ours -- or have their&lt;br /&gt;               spine deteriorate like Stan Bloom.&lt;br /&gt;               Another client of ours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Ed sits now with a light smile, content to let Erin&lt;br /&gt;     continue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                              ERIN (CONT'D)&lt;br /&gt;               So before you come back here with another&lt;br /&gt;               lame-ass offer, I want you to think real&lt;br /&gt;               hard about what your spine is worth, Mr.&lt;br /&gt;               Buda -- or what you'd expect someone to&lt;br /&gt;               pay you for your uterus, Miss Sanchez --&lt;br /&gt;               then you take out your calculator and&lt;br /&gt;               multiply that number by a hundred.&lt;br /&gt;               Anything less than that is a waste of our&lt;br /&gt;               time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Sanchez, throughout her speech, has been reacting in a&lt;br /&gt;     patronizing manner - as if Erin's words were of no import. By&lt;br /&gt;     the end of Erin's speech, Sanchez has picked up a glass of&lt;br /&gt;     water in front of her and is about to drink, when Erin says: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                              ERIN&lt;br /&gt;              By the way, we had that water brought in &lt;br /&gt;              especially for you folks. &lt;br /&gt;              Came from a well in Hinkley. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt;&lt;i&gt;in &lt;a href="http://us.imdb.com/Title?0195685" target="_blank"&gt;Erin Brockovich&lt;/a&gt; (2000) Realização: Steven Soderbergh / Argumento: Susannah Grant - &lt;A HREF="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00004W4GT/sala5-21" target="_blank"&gt;DVD&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106029616539134953?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106029616539134953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106029616539134953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106029616539134953' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106022202528396202</id><published>2003-08-07T03:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-07T03:07:05.296+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://pwp.netcabo.pt/miguel.nogueira/sala002.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106022202528396202?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106022202528396202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106022202528396202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106022202528396202' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106022106070325119</id><published>2003-08-07T02:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T04:13:56.266+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>JACK&lt;br /&gt;Let's pretend.  You're the Department of Transportation.  And you knew&lt;br /&gt;that our company intentionally left a front seat mounting bracket that&lt;br /&gt;never passed collision tests?  Did nothing about leather seats -- that&lt;br /&gt;were cured in third world countries with a chemical we know causes&lt;br /&gt;birth defects?  Brake linings that fail after a thousand miles.  &lt;br /&gt;Turbochargers that blow up and cut off legs at the knees.  Fuel&lt;br /&gt;injectors that burn people alive.  All of these accidents where "cause&lt;br /&gt;of failure" is stamped "unknown".  I know where the bodies are buried. &lt;br /&gt;Call it job security.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOSS&lt;br /&gt;Just who the fuck do you think you are?!  Get out of here!  You're&lt;br /&gt;fired!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JACK&lt;br /&gt;I've got a better idea.  You're going to keep me on payroll as an&lt;br /&gt;outside consultant.  In exchange for my salary, I'll perform the task&lt;br /&gt;of not telling anyone what I know.  I won't need to come into the&lt;br /&gt;office.  I can do this job from home.  Call it early retirement, with&lt;br /&gt;pension.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boss stands, moves around his desk, glaring with rage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JACK&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am shit and crazy, to you and this whole fucking world, but I'm&lt;br /&gt;your responsibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack PUNCHES HIMSELF in the nose.  Blood starts to trickle down.  He&lt;br /&gt;punches himself in the jaw, harder.  He throws himself back, acting as&lt;br /&gt;if the force of the punch knocked him.  His back SLAMS against a framed&lt;br /&gt;painting and SHATTERS the glass.  He and the frame and the glass and&lt;br /&gt;the painting fall to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JACK (V.O.)&lt;br /&gt;I Am Joe's Smirking Revenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JACK&lt;br /&gt;Please don't hit me again.  Please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack gets back to his feet and punches himself in the stomach, then&lt;br /&gt;punches himself in the jaw again.  He reels backwards and falls into a&lt;br /&gt;hanging shelf, ripping it off the wall, sending it's contents flying. &lt;br /&gt;He falls to the floor again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JACK (V.O.)&lt;br /&gt;For some reason, I thought of my first fight -- with Tyler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack crawls along the carpet toward Boss, dripping blood.  He tries to&lt;br /&gt;keep up the act, but he sporadically GIGGLES.  He grabs Boss's leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JACK&lt;br /&gt;Please ... give me the paychecks like I asked for.  You won't see me&lt;br /&gt;again.  You won't have any trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack climbs up Boss's leg.  Boss, aghast, tries to shake him off, and,&lt;br /&gt;in doing so, stumbles back in to his desk, knocking off photos, stacks&lt;br /&gt;of paper, paperweights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JACK (V.O.)&lt;br /&gt;Under and behind and inside everything this man took for granted,&lt;br /&gt;something horrible had been growing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack crawls up high enough to grab Boss's belt and hoist himself up&lt;br /&gt;further.  He's getting blood all over the Boss's clothes.  Jack SMUDGES&lt;br /&gt;blood from his face onto the knuckles of both Boss's hands.  The&lt;br /&gt;horrified man SCREAMS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JACK (V.O.)&lt;br /&gt;And right then, at our most excellent moment, security guards decided&lt;br /&gt;to walk in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two SECURITY GUARDS come inside and gape at the sight.  Behind them&lt;br /&gt;stands a crowd of curious workers, also taking in the sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JACK (gurgling blood)&lt;br /&gt;Please don't hit me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt;&lt;i&gt;in &lt;a href="http://us.imdb.com/Title?0137523" target="_blank"&gt;Fight Club&lt;/a&gt; (1999) Realização: David Fincher / Argumento: Jim Huls - &lt;A HREF="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00004W4HA/sala5-21" target="_blank"&gt;DVD&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106022106070325119?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106022106070325119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106022106070325119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106022106070325119' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106019705886221882</id><published>2003-08-06T20:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-06T20:10:58.900+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://pwp.netcabo.pt/miguel.nogueira/sala001.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106019705886221882?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106019705886221882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106019705886221882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106019705886221882' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646034.post-106019655161655833</id><published>2003-08-06T20:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T04:15:42.156+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>LAUNCELOT:&lt;br /&gt; Have we got bows?&lt;br /&gt; ARTHUR:&lt;br /&gt; No.&lt;br /&gt; LAUNCELOT:&lt;br /&gt; We have the Holy Hand Grenade.&lt;br /&gt; ARTHUR:&lt;br /&gt; Yes, of course!  The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch!  'Tis one of   the sacred relics Brother Maynard carries with him!  Brother Maynard!     Bring up the Holy Hand Grenade!&lt;br /&gt; MONKS: [chanting]&lt;br /&gt;  Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem.  Pie Iesu domine, dona eis   requiem.  Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem.  Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem.&lt;br /&gt; ARTHUR:&lt;br /&gt; How does it, um-- how does it work?&lt;br /&gt; LAUNCELOT:&lt;br /&gt; I know not, my liege.&lt;br /&gt; ARTHUR:&lt;br /&gt; Consult the Book of Armaments!&lt;br /&gt; BROTHER MAYNARD:&lt;br /&gt; Armaments, chapter two, verses nine to twenty-one.&lt;br /&gt; SECOND BROTHER:&lt;br /&gt; And Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying,    'O Lord, bless this Thy hand grenade that, with it, Thou mayest   blow Thine enemies to tiny bits in Thy mercy.'  And the Lord did grin, and the   people did feast upon the lambs and sloths and carp and anchovies and orangutans   and breakfast cereals and fruit bats and large chu--&lt;br /&gt; MAYNARD:&lt;br /&gt; Skip a bit, Brother.&lt;br /&gt; SECOND BROTHER:&lt;br /&gt; And the Lord spake, saying, 'First shalt   thou take out the Holy Pin.  Then, shalt thou count to three.  No more.  No less.   Three shalt be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall   be three.  Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that   thou then proceed to three.  Five is right out.  Once the number three, being the   third number, be reached, then, lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch   towards thy foe, who, being naughty in My sight, shall snuff it.'&lt;br /&gt; MAYNARD:&lt;br /&gt; Amen.&lt;br /&gt; KNIGHTS:&lt;br /&gt; Amen.&lt;br /&gt; ARTHUR:&lt;br /&gt; Right!  One!...  Two!...  Five!&lt;br /&gt; GALAHAD:&lt;br /&gt; Three, sir!&lt;br /&gt; ARTHUR:&lt;br /&gt; Three!&lt;br /&gt;     [angels sing]&lt;br /&gt;     [boom]  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt;&lt;i&gt;in &lt;a href="http://us.imdb.com/Title?0071853" target="_blank"&gt;Monty Python and the Holy Grail&lt;/a&gt; (1975) Realização: Terry Gilliam &amp; Terry Jones / Argumento: Graham Chapman &amp; John Cleese &amp; Eric Idle &amp; Terry Gilliam &amp; Terry Jones &amp; Michael Palin - &lt;A HREF="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00005U0HG/sala5-21" target="_blank"&gt;DVD&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5646034-106019655161655833?l=salacinco.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106019655161655833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5646034/posts/default/106019655161655833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://salacinco.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106019655161655833' title=''/><author><name>Miguel Tomar Nogueira</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
