<?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/'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32580261</id><updated>2007-01-31T19:18:02.181-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop The Presses</title><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.stopthepresses.org/index.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32580261/posts/default'></link><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.stopthepresses.org/atom.xml'></link><author><name>Brent</name></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www2.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32580261.post-3302303346626508441</id><published>2007-01-22T13:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-22T13:44:57.867-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In the future, Everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes...</title><content type='html'>Are we trapped in this bizarre networked mozaic of youtube mini-celebs? Can anyone pull it all together or is it all drifting at sea like a cultural junk barge?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm disturbed by the current cultural discourse - Time magazine declaring "YOU" as their 'person of the year'.... Hillary and Obama both addressing "YOU" as their inspiration for running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me feel old too, to not want every dick and jane and harry and tina to be the focus of my life with every click of the mouse. I want colosseum-quality epic intellectuals, wrestling with bleak, stark, truths. They all seem to have run away from the mobs and bought webcams. Where is the courage?</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.stopthepresses.org/2007/01/in-future-everyone-will-be-famous-for.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32580261/posts/default/3302303346626508441'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32580261/posts/default/3302303346626508441'></link><author><name>Brent</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32580261.post-116588240020100066</id><published>2006-12-11T16:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T16:13:20.203-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Blog Home</title><content type='html'>Hey, this is my new blog home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old site is available on the links to the left where it says "STP Archive".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Transformation is the only constant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except Change.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.stopthepresses.org/2006/12/new-blog-home.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32580261/posts/default/116588240020100066'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32580261/posts/default/116588240020100066'></link><author><name>Brent</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32580261.post-115543005121608462</id><published>2006-08-12T17:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-12T17:47:31.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Powerade</title><content type='html'>LeBron James Mountain Blast Powerade is a gift from our chemical overlords at Coca-Cola.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't usually cotton to drinking unhealthyish beverages, but I was swayed by its blue color, and promise of 'energy'. It tastes better than most energy drinks I've tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to keep collecting the caps which will gain me free corporately-branded athletic gear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter to me that Powerade is people. It's people!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or that its "natural flavors" come from LeBron James peeing into the massive production vats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, it makes me feel part of a culturally-relevant world of fast cars and curvy women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Powerade is not just ade. It's Power!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You people that haven't just had a lot of water and corn syrup like me are nothing compared to me! Do you hear me??? Get out of my way!!!</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.stopthepresses.org/2006/08/powerade.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32580261/posts/default/115543005121608462'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32580261/posts/default/115543005121608462'></link><author><name>Brent</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32580261.post-115542425674855505</id><published>2006-08-12T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-12T16:10:56.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dress Shop</title><content type='html'>Talbots has great chairs for the guys to sit in while their wives or girlfriends look for dresses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guys are not very communicative with each other in these situations. We grunt and scratch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always feel out of place hanging out with men, part of a pack, part of the sit and wait dogpile, because I get the giggles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find too many things too funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another guy and me can both be sitting reading the same free magazine, and I'm laughing at all the stupid ads and articles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes my mood is too good for my own good. Must be the mega-dosing on St. John's Wort. It makes the numbers on the clock smile at me.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.stopthepresses.org/2006/08/dress-shop.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32580261/posts/default/115542425674855505'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32580261/posts/default/115542425674855505'></link><author><name>Brent</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32580261.post-115532478077076475</id><published>2006-08-11T12:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T12:33:00.770-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mustards</title><content type='html'>It's hard to be honest with myself about mustard.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.stopthepresses.org/2006/08/mustards.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32580261/posts/default/115532478077076475'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32580261/posts/default/115532478077076475'></link><author><name>Brent</name></author></entry></feed>