The one where a guy gives me a present

November 4, 2010

The night started with a whole lot of indecision. On the television was some sports show that I had long since forgotten about. To the right sat my iphone. To the left there was the unfinished cup of coffee. In the middle I slumped into the couch. It seemed to be pulling me into its old cushions. On my lap a notebook laid open. A poem finished darkened its pages.

Words and inspiration hit fast and faded faster. When the phone called out I hesitated. I looked over at it and waited. Perhaps it would just tell me the text message. Maybe I wouldn’t have to move. Its robot voice would just calmly state:

“So and So said blah, blah and blah.” I waited.

It would hopefully throw in a bleep bloop bloop too. It did none of these. I slowly reached over breaking the moment. It wasn’t laziness that argued I leave the text to itself. Not exactly. It was the drained despair of creation that would be disturbed. At that moment it was just me, the words on the page (and my head) and the couch’s embrace. But the poem was written, what would be the harm? I reached over just as it honked angrily again.

“Fuck you Iggy.” That was the name of my phone.

I closed the notebook confining the infant words to darkness. I knew who it was. It was Williams. There had been plans semi made. That was before the words. Before the despair and before the winds of creation had knocked me back a few steps.

Eventually we made our way down to the Coventry Winking Lizard. The inside bulged with people. The doorway was an obstacle course of jacketed guys and girls. We snaked around them a few nods and acknowledgements tossed about like business cards. The blonde asked us all the pertinent questions. As she waited for our I.D.s she wiggled her nose just a bit. It was a cute little nothing.

“Ah HA! I’m on to you with your witchy ways! I’ve seen the show!” I could yell. For just a split second it seemed a doable thing to yell. It would (could?) end in a rousing rendition of “Witchy Woman” sung by the three of us. Satisfied she walked us to our table. As she left I felt a sadness fill her void.

The Christmas Ale came in pitcher form. It was cold and warming at the same time. The talk swung toward writing. It was fast and furious. The brakes were ripped out and a hill loomed. Projects were—

“Yes! Nice shot.” I interrupted on more than one occasion.

“How are the Cavs doing?” I’m not sure he cared all that much, but I was interrupting enough.

“Down by one now. It’s a game again.” My glass was filled again. And again. And again. The evening passed quicker. Soon there were plans with other people, other writers.

We found ourselves at the Old Angle Tavern. Or actually we found ourselves walking in the chilly Cleveland air on W. 25th. The warmth the Christmas Ale provided felt good. We looked. We went in the wrong direction. When found our co-conspirators they sat at a filled table. They weren’t co or even conspirators at this point. They weren’t later in the evening either. They were just people, writers, and students. Drinkers. Revelers if revelers reveled in a respectful way. Could they really? Names were had and mostly forgotten.

There was the girl who appeared out of nowhere and pulled up a chair. She was of the touchy feely kind, putting her arm over shoulders as she spoke to you. Closeness was not a problem for her. She was drunk when she arrived. As the night wore on (and the drinks piled up) the weirdness did too. Francine (as I soon named her in my head) began to pick up our empty bottles. After stealing the miniscule drop from the very bottom she’d hold onto the bottle. It was her drink. It was an empty but it was her drink. She’d bring it to her mouth every now and then. She’d part her lips and drink the nothing. It was an oddly sexual thing, but did not seem directed toward anyone.

As quickly as she appeared she disappeared. Out the door she fled. The whole table dwindled but not before Iggy spoke up again. A text.

47*-06**: What’s going on down there. Anything worth driving down there for? R*** from 4square.
Me: I’m here so you know it’s always popping.
Well first it was, Me: What the hell? Who the hell is R**** from 4square and why are they texting me? And then drunkenly I responded with the always popping bit.
R****: Cool I’m gonna stop in.

“Hey Williams I think I just got myself murdered. You can’t let that happen. My wife will kill you if I get killed.” I drank some more. He promised to not let me get killed. After some more time and a “Old Angle Jameson High Ball” we headed into the chill. The moon winked at us. We said our goodbyes and marched to our car.

As we rounded the corner of the Garage bar another pair of dudes made their way to the parking lot. They came from the side opposite of us. We ended up at the very same spot. Their car pointed in at us.

“Hey” Guy one called as they reached their car.
“Yo. Yo”

Williams was still moving. I don’t know if he said anything. I imagine he didn’t.

“You know what? I got something for you. This. Here this is for you.” He reached into his car.

“Run. Go! Get to the choppa” it was what I was going to warn Williams with. Then the black jacket guy brought out a pink stuffed animal.

“Sure!” He handed it to me and disappeared into his car.

I got in the car. I looked at the pink pig or hippo or whatever the hell it was. “That was weird, right?”

“Weird things happen to you a lot don’t they?” He started the car.

I guess that is one way to put it.

His name is Bobo:

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New Poem: Blueberry Ale

November 2, 2010

Here is another poem. It is part of the book titled: Love is a Donkey. Now for some interaction (should you choose to accept your mission.) from you all. The poem is titled Blueberry Ale (right now) but the wifey thinks it should be titled “The Art of Giving Blow Jobs”. What say you dear reader? As always any comments appreciated.


After the third bottle the topic turned to sex.
This was usually the case but never with so many people
mulled and munched veggies. The party should’ve been over.
Rick finished off the hummus by himself. It was thick and homemade.
We found him on the toilet a joint in one hand and the other knuckle deep in the bowl.
“At least he’s not jacking off again” Johnny offered. He was right.


Two years from now he’d jump off a highway over pass.
His body smashed through the windshield of a brown Taurus.
He always had to take someone down with him. A pocket full of peach schnapps’
I got drunk at his funeral. “I always hated smooth tongued Johnny Ray.” I quipped
to the pretty girl at the bar. I undressed her with my eyes.
It turned out to be his sister.


At one point I must have met her. She may have even been at the party.
Pieces of poetry and scraps of art were thrown about.
It was the last of its kind. The only one where we were all friends and artists
If we had known that it may have changed things.
Of course in the end we’d still be high and debating the art of blow jobs.


The one with the lettuce

October 28, 2010

Hello kiddies. It’s time once again for us to delve back into the gross and disgusting. This TMI Thursday happened last night. It usurped the TMI post I had planned to write about. Today would have chronicled the making of Brownaconda: Dead Duck but that can come next week.

No today’s post is by special request by the wife.

It's A Trap Pictures, Images and Photos

I know this. I know it’s a trap. How? Well the reason she wants me to post this is she wants it to shine a bad light on me. She wants all of you to be on her side. It also proves how funny she actually feels it was, and it really was.

Last night was the Cavs home opener. It was a blast. I of course went with (and thanks to) the rizza. We pre-gamed at Cleats because the beers at the Q are 7.25. There we had 2 miller lights and a shot. I guess the blood work that was done earlier helped the buzz because my head was nice and warm when we left. From there we cheered our asses off for our Cavs. They won! This is not the point though. We shared 2 beers. To celebrate we all went to get a drink after the game.

The wifey and I headed home and to our chipotle salad bowl dinner. We watched an episode of HIMYM as we ate. Then we just sort hung around with the tv on. She of course was staying up too late yet again. When she finally decided to head off to slumberland I was still enjoying the remnants of my buzz. I sat on the couch and she straddled me. That’s right.

BOW CHIKA BOW BOW

Finally another TMI sex post. No I’m just kidding. It was just time for a kiss or two, or so I thought. Instead she started to shake my head and face whilst talking to me like I was the cat. She flipped her fingers on my lips to cause the blub blub blub sound. Then a kiss on the cheek and lips and a hug. Soon it was back to the above face shaking.

She is a weird one.

Then one big kiss right on the lips. Hold it. Hold it. And then she opened her eyes wide and held the kiss. Staring creepily into my eyes with her lips on mine. At this point I could feel a piece of lettuce in my mouth so as pay back I pushed it out of my mouth and onto/into hers.

I then said “did it..” when she freaked.
“Yeah it worked! I was hoping that would happen!” But she flipped!

I mean FLIPPED (Probably rightfully so but still it was funny.) Now to be fair I was not attempting to put it in her mouth but you know hey that happens right? She like jumped off and ran off. She ran off through the hallway yelling gross the whole way. Right into the bathroom she went. She started putting water in her mouth and spitting out.

She started to brush her teeth furiously and then even gargled. The whole time she was telling me I was gross and that I was sleeping on the couch. Which only made it seem funnier. I was going to say sorry but she was making me laugh. Then for a second she cracked a smile but then in an ultimate actress stunt began to over exaggeratedly gag.

Exaggerated gag.
Exaggerated gag.

And you guessed it exaggerated gag. We got in bed and she claimed she’d never ever get the thought of it out of her head. It would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Over exaggerated bed gag. (bow chikka bow bow)

Finally she calmed down as she lay in bed. I told her this was too funny not to TMI. She said that I should because then you all could see how disgusting I was, and be mad at me too. This morning I decided I’d rather do the Brownaconda post but she insisted I do this one.

I still maintain it was funny.

*Ackbar photo from Utepeis


The one where I get wood.

July 16, 2010

Hey, eyes up here people. Keep your mind out of the gutter. This past Wednesday the wifey and I went to the Cleveland Museum of Art once again. It has become a ritual. It is part of CMA’s wonderful series of lectures called—well I wrote it down but can’t find it—so we’re gonna just use the title: “CMA gets all curatory and stuff.” The lectures are done by the curators and afterwards you can chat with them by the actual exhibits. That is pretty cool in my book.

This week’s lecture was “She’s just Jenny from the block”*

Actually it was on The Color Woodcuts of Mabel Hewit and the craft of woodcuts and print making in general. Hewit was a little known Cleveland artist. The lecture was given by the Curator of Prints Jane Glaubinger, or as she’s known to her friends Janey from the block. (I can’t actually prove they call her that) You still with me Charlie Brown? Ah ha! You see what I did there? You know because Lucy would call him block head?*

Nothing?

Anyway she (Hewit not Lucy) created exuberantly colored, modernist woodcuts depicting diverse subjects.

*As I tried to form this post Jennifer Lopez ‘Jenny from the Block’ and Charlie Brown ‘Blockhead’ jokes kept trying to pop up and I resisted. I resisted until Carissa told me I had to use them. So blame her for that bad joke and other bad jokes that happen in the future.

Anyplacingtheblame it was a very interesting lecture (just like the last one) and of course I took copious amounts of notes. I scribbled about 3 pages of notes. Not one of them was serious—but hey did you really expect anything else?

The first thing I think we must deal with was the fact that she didn’t look like anyone other than you know her own self. That was an actual word for word note in my notebook. It was the very first one actually. Along with “man she’s not giving me anything to work with here” which I suppose meant I could not make witty jokes about some character she looks like.

I love you Jonasz! (see link to first lecture)

I did seriously find Hewit to be very interesting and in the end wish the lecture spent more time on her (That’s what she said!) The history and story of the prints and woodcuts was cool and Jane (I can call her Jane because you know I sat in a dark room with her) explored the story and all its turns. You will not get that here. Oh I can’t refuse you when you give me those eyes:

Woodblock printing is a technique for printing text, images or patterns used widely throughout East Asia and originating in China in antiquity as a method of printing on textiles and later paper. As a method of printing on cloth, the earliest surviving examples from China date to before 220, and from Egypt to the 4th century.
Ukiyo-e is the best known type of Japanese woodblock art print. Most European uses of the technique on paper are covered by the art term woodcut, except for the block-books produced mainly in the fifteenth century. I better stop there or you’ll want to learn shit every post. Go watch sesame street if you want that. I’d like to take this opportunity to address the horrible situation that occurred early in the lecture. You may recall the last lecture there was a leopard stool? Well he showed up a few minutes into her talk and was not happy. I think he was drunk. This happened:

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Just in case it isn’t clear (we know it isn’t that is a horribly painful “drawing”):

There is the Leopard stool (bottom left)
Screen with prints (middle)
Janey from the block at podium (Right)
She is saying “very Japanese” when the Leopard stool busts in and drunkenly yells “Bitch better not be tryin’ ta take my spot!”

It was very sad and kind of scary. It also may or not have happened. Anylamedrawing after composing herself (and Leopardy was pulled out) she explained how Japanamania hit Europe. From what I gather this was a lot like Hulkamania. People discovered prints from Japan (often used to wrap things being sent) and you know went wild. They ripped their shirts off and said “brother” a lot. Some may or may not have said their prayers and taken their vitamins. It was crazy brother!

A whole bunch of artists wrote letters to other people waxing poetic about the Japanese style and begging them to come to where they were to see it. Some artists started to incorporate the style and actual pieces into their art.

Van Gogh wrote letters praising them and in one he claimed they amused him. Uh that seems kind of douche baggy but I dig Vinnie so I’ll let it slide. I can call him Vinnie cus I was in a dark room when someone mentioned him. So this “being amused” by it can lead us to four conclusions.

1. He’s very easily amused.
2. Drug addict.
3. Or you know a great artist
4. All of the above.

Chime in if you like. They began using the style. There were close-ups, flat shapes with no shadow incorporated into the art of the time. A lot of the Japanese prints used what were essentially prostitutes in their prints.

Some of the same style was used but then the women went from prostitutes to elegant French woman. Which can only mean one thing: all French women are prostitutes. The craze took shape and eventually hit America. This was similar to Beatlemania minus the British accents and delusions of grandeur.
Dude I mean even Whistler (he’s cool cus his name is James) got into it. He was all ripping his bright yellow shirt off and slamming Andre the Giant. Oh damn I think I just mixed my metaphors. Whatever brother! He dug it too and well she went into a little bit about his time with it.
I gathered from this portion that Whistler in modern times would be one of the celebrities who make those Proactiv acne treatment commercials. He’d be the one like Katy Perry. You know where they’d make him call himself a “free spirit” and then talk into his shoe like it was a phone to prove it.
Part of the popularity of these woodcuts and prints was that they were small.

AH HA! See ladies small is good!

Yes anysize moving along. The prints often depicted mundane activity from their culture that here wow’d the people. They were relatively cheap to make and many of the artists (In the US) did all the work themselves. Artist took care of the stamping, rubbing and printing in a press. Cus we Americans Get r done!

What?

We ended the lecture with a very special moment:

Janey from the block: It’s very Japanese”
Conky the Robot: “That’s the secret word”
Crowd: “AHHHHHHHHHHHH”

You see when showing us works inspired by the Japanese style she often noted “this is very Japanese” and I couldn’t resist the joke.

I do urge you to get down to CMA and see the Mabel Hewit collection if you can. It is some neat stuff. This is my favorite one (I got this from the CMA website—please don’t sue me!):

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It is a color woodcut; 27.7 × 30.3 cm. Her title is Sun Bathing. In my notebook I have this note for it: “Boy look at that BOOTY”

Some notes that were made but didn’t make it into the post:

Make a Matthew Perry—Friends Joke.
Oh she said Commodore Perry. Yay Great Lakes Beer!
Keep picturing the ghost in the courtroom scene in Ghostbusters II
Damn you Jonasz!
People who bought this stuff: Sir Money Bottom, Miss Gold Filled Purse and Mister Bag O’Money.
Sort of like a VCR.
They used a harmonious blend of light and dark—like a black and white cookie.
Did she just defame Whistler?

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It’s summer bitches!

May 24, 2010

This weekend was filled with plenty of events. Unlike the last one these events were spread out over the weekend and not in one night.

I still can’t quite grasp the fact that we went to a play, a concert and a midnight movie in the same evening. We did though. It was a fun night. This isn’t about that night though. This is about this weekend.

So as we were partaking in the weekend’s activities Lindsay (Pelvic Joann) said something right as I was thinking it. She mentioned how it was the official start of summer. And then while reading the humongo list of blogs on my Google reader I came across this post on Cleveland’s a Plum. Where the lovely alexa said she felt the weekend was the official kick off to summer. Now we all know the actual date. Actually I don’t and to be honest while talking about it in the car we really only guessed the date. Of course the guess turned out to be right. Bravo to my lovely wife.

Anysummer it was an interesting occurrence of mass consciousness or maybe just a nice hot day where it didn’t rain and we did summer things.

Whatever.

Our weekend was nice. Friday was slow night at home by myself. I watched old school wwf videos and worked on my script. The wifey was at her mom’s house doing laundry and etc. When she got home we watched The Woods. It was pretty bad but it did have potential. Bruce Campbell is in it and that is always good. A more detailed will be up at B Movie Brigade soon.

Saturday morning the wife and I headed over to Dike 14 to help them with their open house. It is a neat little trail and very pretty. If you’re in the Cleveland area you need to try and make it out there to see it. We were there for about 3 hours watching the Butterfly info table. This of course meant people would ask us questions about butterflies. We really didn’t have the answers (ourselves) but many could be found in the info on the table. The wifey vetoed me just making stuff up and telling em whatever I found to be funny
There was much laughing about being on or in the dike all day. At least the wife and I were laughing about it all day because we are way mature. Don’t judge.

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We got rained on a bit but you know that’s okay. From there we picked u Pelvic Joann and Daniel (in from C-Bus and originator of the Pelvic Joann moniker) and headed over to the east side melt. The wait to be seated was not very long however it did take forever and a day to get our food.

I’m not going to get into that. It was a long wait (probably too long) but it is done and over with. It won’t help a damn (what?) complaining about it now. I will focus on the fact that I finally had the Dortmunder mac and cheese soup and it was freaking fracking delicious! Then I got me the Godfather sandwich.

Homemade 3 Cheese Lasagna:
Creamy ricotta, smoky provolone and rich romano
Fresh made fennel & oregano sheets from Ohio City Pasta layered with spicy red tomato sauce and served bubbly hot on garlic spiked grilled bread with more gooey provolone.
It was amazing!

From there we went home and chilled for a bit. The wife proved her total awesomeness because watched the marathon of Star Wars that Spike TV was doing. I found it during The Empire Strikes Back but she fell asleep before I put it on. Then I fell asleep during Return of the Jedi (Hey I was going on like 3 hours sleep!) I woke up and we watched the end of it and then Pelvic Joann called and invited us to hang at her place. We headed over and chilled. Soon it was decided that adventure was a must or at least going to Walgreen’s to get some snack was.

Unfortunately for me I left my wallet at home so it was a pointless venture for me. The 5 of us walked into Walgreen’s a little bit before 11 o’clock. Almost all of us had messenger bags with us. We walked in like any normal customer would and were 10 steps past the security guard (who I said “hello, how are you?” to) when he called to us and told us we had to leave our bags up front in a pile. We (not being 12) were quite skeptical. He wanted us to pile our bags on one of the counters of an unused register. What the hell? Just leave em there for anyone to go through or take? The wife really took exception to him because he did talk to us like we were children. Since she wasn’t buying anything she stood by them and I’m pretty sure shot him the evil eye over and over. We went off on a drive after that and then the missus and I went home.

What happened when we got home? You got it we watched the Star Wars marathon again.
Sunday was a real treat. We headed over to Vine and Bean for brunch around noon. It was delish but the true highlight was drinking the bottomless mimosas. Those were heavenly and freaking bottomless. I’m pretty sure we each had about 10 glasses as we sat there laughing and joking for a long time.
Someone who worked there came with the carafe of mimosas and told us he was sent over. He introduced himself and we introduced ourselves. I of course said my name was Jacob but the wifey (meanly) told him I was lying. Bad form Peter.

Yeah Hook reference!

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From there we hit up the Hessler street fair. It was packed and hot. We walked around and enjoyed the festivities. From there we made our way to Dairy King for some ice cream dipped in cherry goodness. I didn’t actually have any this time but it was good to be going there for the first time this season. This is why truly felt like the beginning of summer to us.

Our firsts for a few things:
Street fair
mimosas outside
and Dairy King.

Its summer bitches!


Fun Friday 9-11-09

September 11, 2009

Before I get to Fun Friday I aim to say a few things I learned while getting drunk watching a show at the Grog Shop. I will start by saying this post is being written whilst sipping coffee and enjoying the fact that I’m still feeling drunk the next morning. This is the equation.

5 jack and gingers + 1 jack and coke (I forgive you Marty) + ½ Strongbow + 2 shots of Jameson + good friends +not having to be at work till 2:15 –a hangover (lucky this time I guess) = win

1. @kittenkaboom and @lviboheme ruin all my twitpic fun by nitpicking (and not liking) almost every picture and therefore I can never send it.
2. This hat: Vermont Roadie 101

Everyone wants it. Every time I wear it someone tries to take it for the nite or for the weekend.
3. I’ve kind of become no fun. I rant about work too damn much. This is especially true when I’ve not seen you for a long time.
4. It will always be funny when a band sings poorly “I looook like my mom” and I respond with “and singggg like my dog.”
5. If you cover the stage with lamps and a nightstand with books don’t fret when I yell “read from one of the books.”
6. My dinosaur nose (Linzi and I have settled with Triceratops) is often confused with a wolf nose for some reason.

Okay now on to this week’s Fun Friday:

The Cleveland Museum of Art’s Chalk Fest.

Saturday September 12, 11:00 a.m.–5:00 p.m.
Sunday, September 13, noon–5:00 p.m.
Fine Arts Garden

This was an idea offered up by the lovely Linzi. It sounds real interesting even if I’ve not decided I’m going to give up my day to watch football and fútbol. It is a two day event though I do not mean to imply any Clevelander should be anywhere other than watching the Brown’s home opener at 1PM on Sunday. There are plenty of other times to go though. It has an interesting history. This is from the CMA website:

The I Madonnari Chalk Tradition
In 16th-century Italy, beggars, using chalk on the plazas outside cathedrals, copied paintings of the Madonna by Raphael and his contemporaries. With these street painters, called I Madonnari (painters of the Madonna), an artistic tradition was born. Today I Madonnari festivals are held annually in Europe, Africa, and the United States. In 1990 our festival brought this Renaissance tradition to Cleveland.

The event itself is free (this should read FREE) but if you want to draw it’ll cost you.

Chalk Your Own Pictures
Large square and 24-color box of chalk: $16 each
Small square and 12-color box of chalk: $8 each

Individuals, families, schools, and neighborhood groups are all invited to participate. Children under 15 must be accompanied by supervising adults. Sign up when you arrive. Groups are encouraged to pre-register by calling 216-707-2483 by Wednesday, September 9. Non-paid advance registrations will be held until 1:00 Sunday. Hell if anything be inspired by the drawings, go out and buy you some chalk and do it in random places. Take pictures if you do!

Enjoy your Friday and your weekend. Go Browns!


thankful thursday

August 27, 2009

now today would normally be thankful thursday. as of late i’ve found it hard to be in anything but a dour and somber mood. redundant much? some of my friends may even throw around the ugliness that is emo out there. guilty as charged (well at least to the dour and somberness). to try and keep this short and simple i’ve not felt very thankful since ironically last thursdays thankful thursday.

so i could skip this thursdays or i can go with the ole chestnut my annoying coworker likes to put out there. you know the “just be happy you have a job” nugget of wonderfulness. the problem being she usually says it when i’m complaining about the people i work with not neccessarily the job. well that and she complains her job insessantly. then of course as i’m having a real crap time at work i get three unprompted texts. my mom my wife and my best friend. all of them have randomly sent me some sort of love. that gets me thinking about just how much of the tiny things i need to feel thankful about. so all this leads to thankful thursday and a bunch of small, general things. that and some more whining and some pictures.

my mom: who always ends her texts messages with -mom
my wife: who accepts that I watch sports more than most people eat.
my best friend: for always being there. and calling me ginsberg.
cedar lee cult movie series: they show friday the 13th part 3 3d nuff said.
fox soccer channel: I love me some soccer.
my job: while it has begun to suck it keeps me going to see soccer live.
the grog shop: providing drinks and good music

so last night i went to the grog shop to support a friends band. posh army check them out at posharmy.com. i wasn’t going to be able to go because of work but somehow schedules got changed and i found myself able to attend. now the only problem was that i was in a dour, foul, crabby mood. i had promised i’d go if i could so i mustered up the will power and walked over by myself (the wife was at school). now while there i decided to have one four drinks-a highball-jack and ginger ale. i ended up a bit well ok kinda drunk. not fall down, but muddled thinking and not so sad any more drunk. the fact that i got sort of drunk while by myself at the grog led me to question the level of sad my existence was. i sent this notion to l-rizz and she didn’t miss a beat responding:

“that’s not sad its introspective.”

you see this is why i love her and am thankful for her. go read her blog! i really have nothing more to add so here are a bunch of pics from the show last night.

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