<?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-5581019</id><updated>2012-01-24T12:09:34.463Z</updated><title type='text'>Tales from the bottle</title><subtitle type='html'>Do existencialismo e outras cousas dignas de debruço.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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>145</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-3220254536191082230</id><published>2007-05-16T12:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T12:53:18.463+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Uma história longa Quando o Sr. Isildo descobriu que a sua mulher o traíra, ficou danado. É que a sua amante sempre lhe fora fiel.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/3220254536191082230/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=3220254536191082230' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/3220254536191082230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/3220254536191082230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/05/uma-histria-longa-quando-o-sr.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-6029970924604475610</id><published>2007-05-06T15:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T15:50:03.084+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ditadura(s) Antigamente era a ditadura.Não havia a liberdade de roubar.Nem a permissão para o melhor do mundo, as criancinhas, darem pontapés ao Sr. polícia dizendo: - Não me podes prender que eu sou menor.A constituição ajuda à governação mole deste país.E o país, igual à governação, assiste a tudo no sofá.Antigamente era a ditadura.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/6029970924604475610/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=6029970924604475610' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/6029970924604475610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/6029970924604475610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/05/ditaduras-antigamente-era-ditadura.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-5704742010342233812</id><published>2007-04-30T00:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T00:55:11.720+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Equilíbrio  A igreja vive, supostamente, da espiritualidade.Mas, se não fosse a carne, seria uma ditadura.Valha o equilíbrio.E o preservativo.E o sangue, p’ra levar o álcool ao cérebro.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/5704742010342233812/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=5704742010342233812' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/5704742010342233812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/5704742010342233812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/04/equilbrio-igreja-vive-supostamente-da.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-6350019043539683904</id><published>2007-04-25T16:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T16:23:35.236+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Perspectiva Ponho-me em perspectiva, debaixo desta latada nua de folhas verdes e olho o chão.Tem mil pedaços de vides espalhados como se fossem brinquedos de uma criança que os tem.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/6350019043539683904/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=6350019043539683904' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/6350019043539683904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/6350019043539683904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/04/perspectiva-ponho-me-em-perspectiva.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-117632583064525071</id><published>2007-04-11T22:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T16:21:20.215+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>O primeiro São 21:25. De hoje, dia 11 de Abril de 07.E acabei de ver o primeiro, agora de quase nenhum português porque, ao que parece, ninguém votou nele, bastante atrapalhado. As hienas mordem-lhe os calcanhares das habilitações literárias.E ele, poluto, invoca as lições do Sr. Logan, do Mário-Henrique.Tudo fica mais sossegado quando já nada encobre a tragicomédia.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/117632583064525071/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=117632583064525071' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117632583064525071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117632583064525071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/04/o-primeiro-so-2125.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-117598251266287414</id><published>2007-04-07T22:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-08T15:17:43.283+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Gin Quando um estranho faz uma proposta à nossa mulher e com ela apela à sua liberdade individual, onde está a nossa autoridade sobre a nossa mulher em relação ao estranho?Visto isto, vou fazer amor com um gin tónico.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/117598251266287414/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=117598251266287414' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117598251266287414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117598251266287414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/04/gin-quando-um-estranho-faz-uma.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-117563748500941094</id><published>2007-04-03T22:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T23:05:27.063+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Descobertas Parece que a direcção geral dos impostos descobriu, há uns dias, que os empresários de futebol fogem ao fisco.É mais que certo: a roda e a pólvora vão ser banidas de todas as expressões.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/117563748500941094/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=117563748500941094' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117563748500941094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117563748500941094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/04/descobertas-parece-que-direco-geral.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-117422979486019843</id><published>2007-03-18T15:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-18T15:56:34.873Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sem octanas Perfeita?E sem álcool?Há conceitos que não se unem. Nem pelo sagrado matrimónio.Apartando a religião, há coisas que são sagradas.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/117422979486019843/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=117422979486019843' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117422979486019843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117422979486019843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/03/sem-octanas-perfeita-e-sem-lcool-h.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-117382462709020560</id><published>2007-03-13T23:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-13T23:23:47.103Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Regra, casamento e excepção Há sempre uma excepção à regra.Mas, nas regras do casamento, não há excepção.É essa a regra.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/117382462709020560/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=117382462709020560' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117382462709020560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117382462709020560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/03/regra-casamento-e-excepo-h-sempre-uma.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-117338868789978904</id><published>2007-03-08T21:17:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-08T21:18:07.910Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>O gosto  Quando se invoca o gosto, perante qualquer argumento, não é também uma coisa social?Assim como um parto?Pergunto.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/117338868789978904/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=117338868789978904' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117338868789978904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117338868789978904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/03/o-gosto-quando-se-invoca-o-gosto.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-117233372549995761</id><published>2007-02-24T16:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-24T16:15:25.513Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>As mulheres As mulheres têm muito em comum com a música.Em muitos casos confundem-se e ficamos a saber que a magia existe.Noutros, de uma forma mais prosaica, há a mulher bonita, a feia e, naturalmente, aquela que não se pode ouvir.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/117233372549995761/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=117233372549995761' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117233372549995761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/117233372549995761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/02/as-mulheres-as-mulheres-tm-muito-em_24.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-116767960933354835</id><published>2007-01-01T19:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-01T19:26:49.760Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Luta litúrgica Na luta entre Deus e o Diabo, como a bíblia quer, o segundo ganha quase sempre.Até na escolha do campo.É que o Diabo ficou com a lei da gravidade a favor.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/116767960933354835/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=116767960933354835' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/116767960933354835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/116767960933354835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2007/01/luta-litrgica-na-luta-entre-deus-e-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-116258890203935625</id><published>2006-11-03T21:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-03T21:21:42.050Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ainda o mesmo Há pessoas a quem, por faltar a verticalidade moral, fica mal a física.Era de quatro. No mato.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/116258890203935625/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=116258890203935625' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/116258890203935625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/116258890203935625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/11/ainda-o-mesmo-h-pessoas-quem-por.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-116060013357478081</id><published>2006-10-11T21:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T21:55:33.586+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Do Humano outra vez Quando dois homens vêem passar a mulher do próximo e um deles diz: - Será que o gajo se aguenta com aquilo tudo? – O que realmente está a dizer é: se eu ponho esta questão na “mesa” é porque eu tomaria conta do recado. – É macho.E vós mulheres, que vos rides, quando é que perdereis o hábito de dizer o contrário do que desejais?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/116060013357478081/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=116060013357478081' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/116060013357478081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/116060013357478081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/10/do-humano-outra-vez-quando-dois-homens.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115947682849627141</id><published>2006-09-28T21:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T21:53:48.506+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Do Humano Se se olhar bem, mesmo com atenção, pode-se ver que da humanidade pouco de bom brota.Aliás, a vida, é essencialmente do amor e outras miragens para o Homem se suportar a si próprio.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115947682849627141/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115947682849627141' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115947682849627141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115947682849627141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/09/do-humano-se-se-olhar-bem-mesmo-com.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115895939119084338</id><published>2006-09-22T22:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T22:09:51.203+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Neste país a que chamam Portugal Não me importam as razões que me possam dar.Sejam os argumentos mais polidos ou as justificações mais bolorentas.Acabados de conceber, como o pão do dia, ou recuperadas do fundo de um processo qualquer esquecido num canto duma câmara municipal. “Não lhe posso aceitar essa documentação. Só com um requerimento endereçado ao Sr. Presidente.”Não há alicerce que </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115895939119084338/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115895939119084338' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115895939119084338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115895939119084338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/09/neste-pas-que-chamam-portugal-no-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115849362563616418</id><published>2006-09-17T12:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T12:47:05.646+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Felicidade A felicidade é plena.Mas a plenitude é cousa rara…</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115849362563616418/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115849362563616418' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115849362563616418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115849362563616418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/09/felicidade-felicidade-plena.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115619096952836523</id><published>2006-08-21T21:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T21:09:29.540+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tabaco Nunca se deve fumar um cigarro para celebrar o facto de se ter deixado de fumar.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115619096952836523/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115619096952836523' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115619096952836523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115619096952836523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/08/tabaco-nunca-se-deve-fumar-um-cigarro.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115547979396241426</id><published>2006-08-13T15:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-13T15:36:33.973+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Relações prévias Um homem, antes de chegar ao casamento, deve conhecer várias mulheres.Caso contrário irá procurá-las depois.Mas, depois disso, como é que vai, ainda assim, cometer esse erro?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115547979396241426/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115547979396241426' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115547979396241426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115547979396241426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/08/relaes-prvias-um-homem-antes-de-chegar.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115377778637500927</id><published>2006-07-24T22:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-24T22:49:46.386+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Casamento (continuação… outra vez) Andei a “vasculhar” as razões que sustentam o “sucesso” do dito.E, entre as secundárias, lá no fundo da “arca”, encontrei uma interessante: nos bastidores inça, durante todo o processo, a “masturbação” por interposta pessoa.Alguém discorda? Nota: Antes que alguém aluda ao exagero das aspas, eu relembro que se trata de casamento.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115377778637500927/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115377778637500927' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115377778637500927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115377778637500927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/07/casamento-continuao-outra-vez-andei.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115367429849326187</id><published>2006-07-23T18:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-23T23:27:10.353+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>O melhor do mundo Se este título fosse uma interrogação, independentemente do universo consultado, a maioria vingaria com “as crianças”. Não porque se pensasse na resposta mas por ser um reflexo. E, evitado o esforço de pensar um pouco, volta-se ao conforto da anestesia.As crianças podem ser reles, cruéis.Essencialmente para uma criança deficiente ou “de fora”.Não?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115367429849326187/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115367429849326187' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115367429849326187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115367429849326187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/07/o-melhor-do-mundo-se-este-ttulo-fosse.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115359079603167052</id><published>2006-07-22T18:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-22T18:53:16.040+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sr. Cavaco Há uns dias, o Sr. Cavaco, presumo que com a sua costumeira pose de conspícuo, pediu a alguns autarcas para resistirem à pressão dos construtores.E isto, por si só, já provoca azia.Não é novidade nenhuma que a pressão dos construtores existe, que os autarcas são pressionados e que toda a gente o sabe.Mas, ao que parece, este aviso foi um bago de chumbo que abriu crateras na dignidade </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115359079603167052/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115359079603167052' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115359079603167052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115359079603167052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/07/sr.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115280168694716007</id><published>2006-07-13T15:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T17:59:56.386+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Prioridade Tinha-a a seus pés, perfeitamente dominada.No entanto parou e deixou-a rolar até que saiu pela linha lateral.Ficou imóvel, debaixo do holofote, a contemplar a precipitação da chuva, que afunilava na sua direcção.Parou tudo. Parou o tempo.“Atão, o que é que tens? Tás-te a sentir bem?”  Não respondeu.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115280168694716007/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115280168694716007' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115280168694716007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115280168694716007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/07/prioridade-tinha-a-seus-ps.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115271514932177832</id><published>2006-07-12T15:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T15:39:09.323+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hiena Há algo de hiena no ser humano.E se a alma tem pântanos, os pântanos têm entranhas.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115271514932177832/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115271514932177832' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115271514932177832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115271514932177832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/07/hiena-h-algo-de-hiena-no-ser-humano_12.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115246382835218201</id><published>2006-07-09T17:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-09T17:50:28.353+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Consciência Ganhar consciência é, em muito, como um parto: além de sermos arrancados, às vezes a ferros, de um mundo perfeito, ainda nos espera um bom par de açoites.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115246382835218201/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115246382835218201' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115246382835218201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115246382835218201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/07/conscincia-ganhar-conscincia-em-muito.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115228266765970618</id><published>2006-07-07T15:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-09T17:43:31.980+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Um dia numa vida Acordou aporrinhado.Por uma indecisão: “Que gel utilizar?”“Que gel?”Saiu disparado da cama em direcção à casa de banho.Pôs um pé em cima do tapete, executou uma espécie de “break dance” e levantou-se algum pó.Era um dia importante.Começou a proceder à higiene diária matinal ainda atónito.A remela toldava-lhe a vista.E, alguns momentos depois, outra ocorrência fulminou-o…Não tinha</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115228266765970618/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115228266765970618' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115228266765970618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115228266765970618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/07/um-dia-numa-vida-acordou-aporrinhado.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115221231537007844</id><published>2006-07-06T19:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T19:58:35.486+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Vácuo, ignorância, indigência O riso.O brilho embaciado dos olhos.O desnorte do olhar.Um esgar. Um trejeito.Estes são alguns dos indicadores.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115221231537007844/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115221231537007844' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115221231537007844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115221231537007844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/07/vcuo-ignorncia-indigncia-o-riso.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115193685419921183</id><published>2006-07-03T15:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-03T15:27:34.210+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Enumeração na noite Há um balcão.Com copos de cerveja e cerveja no mármore.Há homens de barriga encostada e um taberneiro d’avental.Há um desespero.Há uma mulher deitada à espera.À espera de ser espancada para poder dormir descansada.Há um martírio quase diário.Há uma dor presente, e um sonho distante.Quando se ouvir o grito do lamento e o seu crescendo, o boçal chegou a casa.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115193685419921183/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115193685419921183' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115193685419921183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115193685419921183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/07/enumerao-na-noite-h-um-balco.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115191923212279278</id><published>2006-07-03T10:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-03T10:33:52.133+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Salvação? (Parte 2)  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115191923212279278/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115191923212279278' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115191923212279278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115191923212279278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/07/salvao-parte-2.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115185084037185559</id><published>2006-07-02T15:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-02T15:34:00.383+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Forças Há forças que nascem dentro de nós como a água de certas fontes remanesce das entranhas da terra.Daí existirem apelos que nos instigam, arrebatam  e nos levam a recorrer a certas frases com frequência.- É um jameson.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115185084037185559/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115185084037185559' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115185084037185559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115185084037185559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/07/foras-h-foras-que-nascem-dentro-de-ns.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115169497524628074</id><published>2006-06-30T20:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T20:16:15.256+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Salvação? (Parte 1)  Não, não é o velho do Restolho... mas a salvação era quase garantida.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115169497524628074/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115169497524628074' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115169497524628074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115169497524628074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/salvao-parte-1-no-no-o-velho-do.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115149352645802583</id><published>2006-06-28T11:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-28T12:18:46.496+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Funeral Estava um dia de sol amarelo.O falecido jazia formalmente no caixão, o calor emanava,e era notável o esforço da mulher, carpideira, para entoar os gritos da ordem sempre a começar pela primeira pessoa do singular, à semelhança de outras entidades conspícuas que se esforçavam para se sentirem mal e assim se sentirem melhores.Foi um funeral vulgar.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115149352645802583/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115149352645802583' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115149352645802583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115149352645802583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/funeral-estava-um-dia-de-sol-amarelo.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115142070631420610</id><published>2006-06-27T16:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T16:06:18.130+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> The Portuguese Way.  Quem disse que o português comum não sabe o que significa Speed Dating? </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115142070631420610/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115142070631420610' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115142070631420610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115142070631420610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/portuguese-way_27.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115135603815956226</id><published>2006-06-26T22:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T22:07:18.173+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Psicóloga E depois a psicóloga disse-me: - Eu acho que você não tem o perfil adequado.Seguiu-se um discurso moralista, maternal – no sentido autoritário - , como se me conhecesse ou tivesse o direito de repreender. “Será que é Deus sob a forma de mulher”? – Pensei. “Ou será que veio agora do psicólogo”?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115135603815956226/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115135603815956226' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115135603815956226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115135603815956226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/psicloga-e-depois-psicloga-disse-me-eu.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115124953515158493</id><published>2006-06-25T16:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T16:33:29.296+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Delegação do I. E. F. P. É um bom sítio para se ler um livro.Não há barulho.E há tempo.Quer se queira quer não.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115124953515158493/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115124953515158493' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115124953515158493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115124953515158493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/delegao-do-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115111138054487546</id><published>2006-06-24T01:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-24T02:09:40.603+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Coisas dignas de debruço.  Ainda sobre a descoberta de vinho na tumba do Tutankamon. Eu e o Tom Sawyer fomos averiguar ao Egipto de que padeceu este jovem faraó... daí a falta de cartoon nestes últimos dias.Já agora... se vos ocorrer outro texto alternativo para este cartoon, agradecia que comentassem.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115111138054487546/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115111138054487546' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115111138054487546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115111138054487546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/coisas-dignas-de-debruo.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115101933723751628</id><published>2006-06-23T00:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T00:35:37.306+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Aceitar cegamente Muitos estudos se fazem neste país.E muitos mais se fazem noutros que este se apressa a mostrar.Se eu fosse um cientista conceituado, rodeado de ilustres proeminentes e viesse a praça pública apresentar a retenção de ventosidades (ou baques) como causa de esterilidade, provavelmente, ver-se-ia muito boa gente de bata por aí a correr de mãos agarradas à cabeça, desnorteadas como </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115101933723751628/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115101933723751628' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115101933723751628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115101933723751628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/aceitar-cegamente-muitos-estudos-se.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115092737887629196</id><published>2006-06-21T23:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T23:04:51.433+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sugestão Pense num dia de Verão, com o sol a pique.E de seguida na Assembleia da República.O Inferno.Agora imagine o Inferno às duas horas da tarde…Eu proponho, à semelhança do que aconteceu com o campo pequeno, a reestruturação desse espaço físico para outros eventos como… “As noivas de santo António”.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115092737887629196/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115092737887629196' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115092737887629196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115092737887629196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/sugesto-pense-num-dia-de-vero-com-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115088215391462849</id><published>2006-06-21T10:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T10:29:13.926+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Escuto?  Esta notícia revela a surdez desta justiça já por si muda e cega. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115088215391462849/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115088215391462849' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115088215391462849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115088215391462849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/escuto-esta-notcia-revela-surdez-desta.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115081112310556652</id><published>2006-06-20T14:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T14:54:32.406+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> De boa colheita sim sinhôr. (hic)  V.Q.P.R.D. ou Vinho Qualificado Para Restituir (ou Redescobrir) Defuntos é a designação que os arqueólogos atribuem quando encontram adegas com mais de 4000 mil anos. É sempre bom saber.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115081112310556652/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115081112310556652' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115081112310556652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115081112310556652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/de-boa-colheita-sim-sinhr.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115072541357990233</id><published>2006-06-19T14:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-19T15:00:39.296+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Badajoz... até à vista. Nasceu o primeiro português em Espanha... já falta pouco. P.S. Na realidade já nasceram duas meninas, a segunda infelizmente, acabou por falecer.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115072541357990233/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115072541357990233' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115072541357990233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115072541357990233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/badajoz.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115058515093642443</id><published>2006-06-17T23:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-18T20:56:44.843+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sangue Toda a gente sabe que o sangue desempenha funções vitais para a vida de qualquer animal, nomeadamente o humano.No entanto há outras, também importantes, como a de levar o álcool ao cérebro.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115058515093642443/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115058515093642443' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115058515093642443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115058515093642443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/sangue-toda-gente-sabe-que-o-sangue.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115049768872134343</id><published>2006-06-16T23:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-18T20:56:31.723+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Natal Se o menino Jesus nascesse hoje seria numa televisão.Assim teria o mesmo em muito mais quantidade.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115049768872134343/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115049768872134343' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115049768872134343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115049768872134343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/natal-se-o-menino-jesus-nascesse-hoje.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115040801388656916</id><published>2006-06-15T22:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T22:47:11.906+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Um jogo para bombar... com cuidado! </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115040801388656916/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115040801388656916' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115040801388656916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115040801388656916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/um-jogo-para-bombar.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115037715253454087</id><published>2006-06-15T13:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T22:43:48.150+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Afinidades Algumas afinidades entre um noivo e um político, se pensarmos bem, são bastante concretas.Por exemplo: ambos estão na plena posse das capacidades exigidas para o desempenho das funções que irão exercer.Pelo menos até serem empossados formalmente.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115037715253454087/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115037715253454087' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115037715253454087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115037715253454087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/afinidades-algumas-afinidades-entre-um.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115031471233373185</id><published>2006-06-14T20:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T22:03:50.596+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Defesa p´ró Pessoal.  Professores, a solução passa mais uma vez por uma formação extraordinariamente inovadora que vai resolver todos os vossos problemas com sogros, alunos, pais, desconhecidos e até a Maria de Lurdes Rodrigues e todos aqueles que vos fizerem trombas. Formação em Defesa Pessoal. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115031471233373185/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115031471233373185' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115031471233373185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115031471233373185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/defesa-pr-pessoal.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115020684044773023</id><published>2006-06-13T14:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T15:07:05.620+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Entrada para o Ensino Superior. E depois?   Ampliar</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115020684044773023/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115020684044773023' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115020684044773023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115020684044773023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/entrada-para-o-ensino-superior.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115015888488466204</id><published>2006-06-13T01:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T01:49:25.650+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Circo Parece que voltou, à pátria caseira, a euforia circense.E os palhaços, naturalmente, não poderiam faltar.Sem distinção entre rico e pobre e sem talento, exibem a berrata, primitiva, obedecendo à homogeneidade e ao uniforme.O orgulho que este patriotismo pindérico invoca não passa de uma anestesia que atenua mas não resolve.Há casas onde mora a fome porque o bilhete rouba o pão.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115015888488466204/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115015888488466204' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115015888488466204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115015888488466204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/circo-parece-que-voltou-ptria-caseira.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-115003304946641380</id><published>2006-06-11T14:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-11T14:37:29.476+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Tráfico Humano  Ontem assisti a este fenómeno num restaurante para o efeito, ali a palavra comércio ganha contornos singulares... são fotos, convites, bolinhos, beijinhos, prendas e não sei mais o quê, tudo se vende...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/115003304946641380/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=115003304946641380' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115003304946641380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/115003304946641380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/trfico-humano-ontem-assisti-este.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-114985192826529388</id><published>2006-06-09T12:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T20:57:18.386+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> O tamanho não importa  Relativamente á descoberta feita na Alemanha que manifesta a volubilidade dos tempos em questões de volume. O que já foi um "gigante" anão é agora uma carga de ossos. Contudo a típica relação pai-filho mantem-se.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/114985192826529388/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=114985192826529388' title='9 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114985192826529388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114985192826529388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/o-tamanho-no-importa-relativamente.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-114962659387442485</id><published>2006-06-06T21:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T21:59:55.376+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Entre Linhas  E você já têm a sua bandeirinha? Não! Este valioso adereço encontra-se num hipermercado perto de si, procure na secção das massas ou mesmo ao lado das senhas pó talho. Garantidamente sem os pagodes de 2004. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/114962659387442485/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=114962659387442485' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114962659387442485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114962659387442485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/entre-linhas-e-voc-j-tm-sua.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-114942694440992812</id><published>2006-06-04T14:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T11:58:20.576+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Entre Linhas  Na Namíbia é mais fácil... a prevenção começa logo no burro.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/114942694440992812/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=114942694440992812' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114942694440992812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114942694440992812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/06/entre-linhas-na-nambia-mais-fcil.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-114747096239462985</id><published>2006-05-12T22:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T12:02:54.900+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Entre Linhas Choque Mate </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/114747096239462985/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=114747096239462985' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114747096239462985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114747096239462985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/05/entre-linhas-choque-mate.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-114719077990785365</id><published>2006-05-09T17:04:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T12:10:59.453+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Entre Linhas  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/114719077990785365/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=114719077990785365' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114719077990785365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114719077990785365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/05/entre-linhas.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-114597333584500031</id><published>2006-04-25T14:29:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T12:04:21.060+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Escadas Dizem que subir e descer escadas faz bem à saúde.Será por isso que há sempre tanta gente nas rolantes?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/114597333584500031/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=114597333584500031' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114597333584500031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114597333584500031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/04/escadas-dizem-que-subir-e-descer.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-114511138855727612</id><published>2006-04-15T15:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T12:05:55.836+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Cansaço Há dias em que o cansaço é tal que a um homem só lhe apetece dormir dois mil anos seguidos.E deve fazê-lo.Isto, claro, depois de beber, um jameson.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/114511138855727612/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=114511138855727612' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114511138855727612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114511138855727612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/04/cansao-h-dias-em-que-o-cansao-tal-que.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-114484219468591361</id><published>2006-04-12T12:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T12:06:15.576+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Perfeição  Há quem diga que a perfeição não existe.Existe.E existe na maior potência mundial.A estupidez.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/114484219468591361/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=114484219468591361' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114484219468591361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114484219468591361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/04/perfeio-h-quem-diga-que-perfeio-no.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-114452881743278153</id><published>2006-04-08T21:39:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-04-08T21:40:17.443+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LupanarPorque será que ao entrar num lupanar se é logo um amor?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/114452881743278153/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=114452881743278153' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114452881743278153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/114452881743278153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/04/lupanar-porque-ser-que-ao-entrar-num.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-113796675439575580</id><published>2006-01-22T21:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-22T21:52:34.413Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ModaAndam por aí, estampadas nos autocarros da cidade cá do sítio, duas meninas a sorrir como se tudo fosse felicidade e a moda fosse a causa disso.A cidade está na moda.Muito bem.E quando passar a moda?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/113796675439575580/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=113796675439575580' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113796675439575580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113796675439575580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/01/moda-andam-por-estampadas-nos.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-113733880081398353</id><published>2006-01-15T15:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-15T15:26:40.823Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CalçasAs calças da moda feminina perdem cada vez mais qualidades.Agora parece que são desenhadas para dar à mulher, ainda que não o tenha, um rabo chato.Será que as mulheres não sabem que um rabo chato pode fazer ruir um casamento?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/113733880081398353/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=113733880081398353' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113733880081398353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113733880081398353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/01/calas-as-calas-da-moda-feminina-perdem.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-113612978608985167</id><published>2006-01-01T15:34:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-01T15:36:26.100Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PessoasHá pessoas que passam metade da vida a tentar ser conhecidas.E, ao conseguir isto, a outra metade é passada a trocar de óculos de sol para que não as reconheçam.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/113612978608985167/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=113612978608985167' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113612978608985167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113612978608985167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2006/01/pessoas-h-pessoas-que-passam-metade-da.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-113553211557192695</id><published>2005-12-25T17:34:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-01T15:41:22.063Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ProgramaçãoEntrei no tasco e pedi um chá de limão.Mas, tendo em conta a cara do taberneiro, pareceu-me ser um acto ilegal.Foi como se estivesse programado p’ra ficar idiota àquela hora.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/113553211557192695/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=113553211557192695' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113553211557192695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113553211557192695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/12/programao-entrei-no-tasco-e-pedi-um-ch.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-113261780349178174</id><published>2005-11-21T23:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-11-22T00:03:23.503Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Produção em série negativaA sociedade é cada vez mais uma fábrica de idiotas.E as universidades obreiras quase imprescindíveis.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/113261780349178174/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=113261780349178174' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113261780349178174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113261780349178174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/11/produo-em-srie-negativa-sociedade-cada.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-113191704330581430</id><published>2005-11-13T21:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-11-13T21:24:03.316Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DicionárioPolítico – Entidade, geralmente conspícua, capaz de governar um país, antes e depois do mandato para o qual foi eleito.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/113191704330581430/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=113191704330581430' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113191704330581430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113191704330581430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/11/dicionrio-poltico-entidade-geralmente.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-113102149134238009</id><published>2005-11-03T12:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-11-03T12:38:11.350Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Mais um inferno Após uma eternidade... a democracia chega ao Inferno</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/113102149134238009/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=113102149134238009' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113102149134238009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113102149134238009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/11/mais-um-inferno-aps-uma-eternidade.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-113079528492043649</id><published>2005-10-31T21:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-10-31T21:48:04.930Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> O Choque Tecnológico Será este o choque de que tanto se espera?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/113079528492043649/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=113079528492043649' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113079528492043649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113079528492043649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/10/o-choque-tecnolgico-ser-este-o-choque.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-113001779236841331</id><published>2005-10-22T22:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-10-22T22:49:52.373+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Chatos (continuação)Um chato, mas um chato mesmo, é capaz de chatear até a vaca do presépio.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/113001779236841331/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=113001779236841331' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113001779236841331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/113001779236841331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/10/chatos-continuao-um-chato-mas-um-chato.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-112958036302842546</id><published>2005-10-17T21:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-10-17T21:19:23.033+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Do amorBasta pensar no que se pensa quando se pensa nele.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/112958036302842546/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=112958036302842546' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112958036302842546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112958036302842546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/10/do-amor-basta-pensar-no-que-se-pensa.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-112914499869306023</id><published>2005-10-12T20:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-10-12T20:23:18.723+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Humor negro?Parece que vinha aí um furacão.Mas, lá do alto, como Deus, devia ter vista panorâmica.E, ao aperceber-se deste estado de coisas, passou ao largo.Terão ficado frustrados os alarmistas.É que já nem os furacões querem nada com este país.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/112914499869306023/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=112914499869306023' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112914499869306023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112914499869306023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/10/humor-negro-parece-que-vinha-um-furaco.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-112541798670852784</id><published>2005-08-30T17:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T17:06:26.713+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PsicólogoO melhor psicólogo ainda é o taberneiro.Com a vantagem de ter a medicação logo ali.Sem ser necessário passar receita.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/112541798670852784/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=112541798670852784' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112541798670852784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112541798670852784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/08/psiclogo-o-melhor-psiclogo-ainda-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-112497762510851400</id><published>2005-08-25T14:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-08-25T14:47:05.113+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>FelicidadeSe eu não combatesse a ignorância talvez fosse feliz.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/112497762510851400/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=112497762510851400' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112497762510851400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112497762510851400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/08/felicidade-se-eu-no-combatesse.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-112402666672384074</id><published>2005-08-14T14:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-08-14T14:37:46.730+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>JuraO amor existe.Juro, pelo fundo partido de uma garrafa vazia.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/112402666672384074/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=112402666672384074' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112402666672384074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112402666672384074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/08/jura-o-amor-existe.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-112379349780955289</id><published>2005-08-11T21:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T21:51:37.816+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>FériasPorque é que, geralmente, as férias são curtas?Porque regra geral se detesta o trabalho que se tem.E noutros casos detesta-se o trabalho.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/112379349780955289/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=112379349780955289' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112379349780955289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112379349780955289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/08/frias-porque-que-geralmente-as-frias.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-112333960041053449</id><published>2005-08-06T15:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-08-06T15:46:40.423+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>O fio Tenho uma pergunta: o fio dental não é aquele que se passa entre os dentes?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/112333960041053449/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=112333960041053449' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112333960041053449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112333960041053449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/08/o-fio-tenho-uma-pergunta-o-fio-dental.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-112281837741069261</id><published>2005-07-31T14:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-07-31T14:59:37.416+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Uma nova raça de escravosA mulher está cada vez mais independente e precisa cada vez menos do homem.Salvo na carne.Isto equivale a dizer que está cada vez mais igual a ele.Agiganta-se a indistinção e o Diabo, que anda demasiado ocupado a desmentir o que dizem dele, não aparece p’ra escolher.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/112281837741069261/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=112281837741069261' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112281837741069261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112281837741069261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/07/uma-nova-raa-de-escravos-mulher-est.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-112128785092325832</id><published>2005-07-13T21:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-07-13T21:50:50.930+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Publicidade (outra vez)São reles os tempos que correm.A publicidade, que as “pessoas de plástico” tanto amam, aguça mais as garras e é ainda mais feroz nos “quadros cor-de-rosa”.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/112128785092325832/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=112128785092325832' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112128785092325832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/112128785092325832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/07/publicidade-outra-vez-so-reles-os.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-111979446764386847</id><published>2005-06-26T14:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T15:01:09.376+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VacasQuando as vacas magras aparecem e nos devoram o pasto isso quer dizer que os donos lhes retiraram os portões texanos porque não querem deixar de engordar.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/111979446764386847/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=111979446764386847' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111979446764386847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111979446764386847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/06/vacas-quando-as-vacas-magras-aparecem_26.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-111860504841267465</id><published>2005-06-12T20:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-06-12T20:37:28.416+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>O HomemDeus destinguiu o Homem com a capacidade a que Homem chamou inteligência.Aquele que precisou de ir à lua para descobrir que a terra é um lugar belo.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/111860504841267465/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=111860504841267465' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111860504841267465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111860504841267465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/06/o-homem-deus-destinguiu-o-homem-com.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-111714421651485061</id><published>2005-05-26T22:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-05-26T22:50:16.520+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>IdiotaUm idiota é aquele que vê nos outros um espelho e os trata como um par.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/111714421651485061/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=111714421651485061' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111714421651485061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111714421651485061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/05/idiota-um-idiota-aquele-que-v-nos.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-111679269331914329</id><published>2005-05-22T20:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-05-22T21:11:33.323+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CousasHá cada vez mais cousas para as quais já estou cada vez menos.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/111679269331914329/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=111679269331914329' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111679269331914329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111679269331914329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/05/cousas-h-cada-vez-mais-cousas-para-as.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-111487087382641987</id><published>2005-04-30T15:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-04-30T15:21:13.826+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Do amorNão devia ser permitido a nenhuma pessoa dizer a outra que a ama, e ficar impune.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/111487087382641987/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=111487087382641987' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111487087382641987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111487087382641987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/04/do-amor-no-devia-ser-permitido-nenhuma.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-111368440235251678</id><published>2005-04-16T21:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-04-16T21:46:42.353+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DescendênciaE, note-se que, o acto, em si, de conceber um filho, também é coisa social.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/111368440235251678/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=111368440235251678' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111368440235251678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111368440235251678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/04/descendncia-e-note-se-que-o-acto-em-si.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-111314231332596642</id><published>2005-04-10T15:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T15:11:53.326+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Traição s. f.Todos os homens traem.Mas, não atirem pedras as mulheres.E a traição pior não é a da carne.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/111314231332596642/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=111314231332596642' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111314231332596642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/111314231332596642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/04/traio-s.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110997777018330588</id><published>2005-03-04T23:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-03-04T23:09:30.183Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A dúvida e o bedelho“Tenho a certeza absoluta.”Quando me dizem isto, eu desconfio.Aliás, é a garantia de que a dúvida está a querer meter o bedelho.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110997777018330588/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110997777018330588' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110997777018330588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110997777018330588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/03/dvida-e-o-bedelho-tenho-certeza.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110962487182842453</id><published>2005-02-28T21:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-02-28T21:07:51.830Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>E agora?Acabou o “burburinho”.Os balcões voltam a ser pouso e os sofás voltam a ter uso.E, além da crítica inconsequente na segurança do sofá ou do tasco, sobeja a temática do tempo.Valha-nos, por agora, a falta de chuva e o frio.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110962487182842453/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110962487182842453' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110962487182842453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110962487182842453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/02/e-agora-acabou-o-burburinho.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110833297243923899</id><published>2005-02-13T22:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-02-13T22:16:12.440Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>O circoO “circo” ainda vai demorar mais uma semana.Claro que isto é a versão oficial.Demorará mais.Não falo do “circo” dos autódromos.Falo desta “barraca” montada, essencialmente, à escala nacional onde o cartão de visita é a degradação.Isto entre outras “atracções” próprias de quem a isso se presta.E digo degradação porque é um espectáculo triste, minguado de valores.São as bandeirinhas (</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110833297243923899/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110833297243923899' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110833297243923899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110833297243923899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/02/o-circo-o-circo-ainda-vai-demorar-mais.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110826702077895303</id><published>2005-02-13T03:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-02-13T03:57:00.780Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> A Baforada da Liberdade Para ser eleito delegado de turma, Luisinho apresenta a sua proposta política.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110826702077895303/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110826702077895303' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110826702077895303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110826702077895303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/02/baforada-da-liberdade-para-ser-eleito.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110762149655090049</id><published>2005-02-05T16:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-02-05T16:38:16.550Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Do fumo e outros direitosDeixei de fumar.Mas, aviso à navegação, não se iludam os idolatras das inscrições dos maços de tabaco.E, nesta sociedade, também idolatra, em que se cultiva cada vez mais o favorzinho, a subserviência bacoca e o mamar na teta do Estado, aperta-se o cerco à liberdade.E aperta-se em nome de um “altruísmo comum e social”.É um argumento que não colhe.Convence sim quem </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110762149655090049/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110762149655090049' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110762149655090049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110762149655090049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/02/do-fumo-e-outros-direitos-deixei-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110721779451796024</id><published>2005-02-01T01:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-02-01T00:29:54.516Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Conhecem algum?Como fazer um chato perceber que está a sê-lo, se ele vê no interlocutor um espelho?Ele só precisa do interlocutor porque se falasse sozinho a idiotice seria óbvia e o espelho serve-lhe o propósito narcisista.Embora idiota.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110721779451796024/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110721779451796024' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110721779451796024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110721779451796024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/02/conhecem-algum-como-fazer-um-chato.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110683774121422358</id><published>2005-01-27T14:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-01-27T14:55:41.216Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> O paradoxo da televisão na vida dos adolescentes Luisinho e Joãozinho...dois púberes na sala de estar.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110683774121422358/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110683774121422358' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110683774121422358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110683774121422358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/01/o-paradoxo-da-televiso-na-vida-dos.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110635803903174206</id><published>2005-01-22T01:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-01-22T01:40:39.030Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>AnúncioAs razões que me levam a fazer o seguinte anúncio são várias.É.Vou abandonar o casamento.E entre elas conta-se a necessidade da variedade.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110635803903174206/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110635803903174206' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110635803903174206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110635803903174206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/01/anncio-as-razes-que-me-levam-fazer-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110599407040723863</id><published>2005-01-17T20:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-01-17T20:34:30.406Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A ronda dos adjectivosA morena estava triste.E a loura sorridente.A morena estava desamparada.A loura lia.A morena não estava sossegada.A loura estava abstraída.E creio que a morena era casada.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110599407040723863/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110599407040723863' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110599407040723863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110599407040723863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/01/ronda-dos-adjectivos-morena-estava.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110566239099940825</id><published>2005-01-13T23:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-01-14T00:26:31.000Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Um casoO Sr. Cederico passou o dia todo do seu casamento com um sorriso exemplar.Só mais tarde se veio a saber que era uma pessoa dada a crises de fígado.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110566239099940825/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110566239099940825' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110566239099940825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110566239099940825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/01/um-caso-o-sr.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110539781396760532</id><published>2005-01-10T22:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-01-10T22:56:53.966Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Conto de terrorEste conto, enquanto conto de terror, contém ingredientes que não portarão surpresas de grande monta.Há um pinhal, onde a noite impera e se faz caracterizar pela lua cheia (ou era a lua cheia ou a escuridão).Há árvores, que são pinhos, e corujas (que também existem noutros lados).Ah, é verdade. Não posso esquecer-me dos uivos.E também um cavaleiro. Sem cabeça p’ra não ser </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110539781396760532/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110539781396760532' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110539781396760532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110539781396760532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2005/01/conto-de-terror-este-conto-enquanto.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110272950214697235</id><published>2004-12-11T01:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-12-11T01:47:44.883Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Obsessão“É medo. Puro cagaço.” – Eis um dos comentários a propósito da minha “obsessão” pela conjugalidade.E eu digo: sem medo do casamento só o diabo.E se calhar nem ele.Porque o casamento, mesmo para o diabo, pode ser o inferno.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110272950214697235/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110272950214697235' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110272950214697235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110272950214697235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2004/12/obsesso-medo.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110226419045556158</id><published>2004-12-05T16:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-01-27T14:49:26.386Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> O Joãozinho foi ao estrangeiro e... Episódio Primeiro: O que não deve fazer numa piscina israelita...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110226419045556158/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110226419045556158' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110226419045556158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110226419045556158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2004/12/o-joozinho-foi-ao-estrangeiro-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110217886357042902</id><published>2004-12-04T16:43:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-12-04T16:47:43.570Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Teia“Estou apanhadinho por ti.” – Eis a expressão.O que equivale a dizer que a teia foi bem urdida.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110217886357042902/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110217886357042902' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110217886357042902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110217886357042902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2004/12/teia-estou-apanhadinho-por-ti.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110185567628569582</id><published>2004-11-30T22:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-12-04T16:50:51.290Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Foi pena a sotainaEra de noite.E chovia.Lá longe, numa aldeia distante.Onde a sociedade ainda era fechada e a religião governava.E um íncola lá da aldeia ao passar junto à capela, vindo do tasco, ouviu ruídos.Ruídos que vinham de dentro.Estremeceu.Depois a sobriedade restabeleceu-se, os olhos esbugalharam-se e voltou atrás o mais depressa que as pernas lhe puderam.Entrou e não falou </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110185567628569582/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110185567628569582' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110185567628569582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110185567628569582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2004/11/foi-pena-sotaina-era-de-noite.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110158495376407912</id><published>2004-11-27T19:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-11-27T19:49:13.763Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Passatempo Descubra as diferenças.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110158495376407912/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110158495376407912' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110158495376407912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110158495376407912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2004/11/passatempo-descubra-as-diferenas.html' title=''/><author><name>Huckleberry Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583308524369752563</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://clientes.netvisao.pt/joaoro01/foto_msn.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5581019.post-110148969784027662</id><published>2004-11-26T17:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-11-26T17:21:37.843Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Outra vez um chatoA melhor forma de destronar um ditador é colocar um chato no lugar de conselheiro.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/feeds/110148969784027662/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5581019&amp;postID=110148969784027662' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110148969784027662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5581019/posts/default/110148969784027662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesfromthebottle.blogspot.com/2004/11/outra-vez-um-chato-melhor-forma-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00829915658686497112</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
