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Orange Sunshine v1.0

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  Thursday, November 30, 2006
Stupid is as stupid does...
Judd said Apgar told deputies he had been smoking crack cocaine at the adjacent park, but it was unclear why he was naked or how he was attacked by the alligator. - Sun Sentinel

That's the issue in a fraud lawsuit filed Wednesday against Kraft Foods, Inc., by a Los Angeles woman who claims the company's avocado dip doesn't qualify as guacamole.

"It just didn't taste avocadoey," said Brenda Lifsey, who used Kraft Dips Guacamole in a three-layer dip last year. "I looked at the ingredients and found there was almost no avocado in it." - Sun Sentinel

These are the people in your neighborhood.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Road to Peace - Tom Waits

Young Abdel Mahdi (Shahmay) was only 18 years old,
He was the youngest of nine children, never spent a night away from home.
And his mother held his photograph, opening the New York Times
To see the killing has intensified along the road to peace

There was a tall, thin boy with a whispy moustache disguised as an orthodox Jew
On a crowded bus in Jerusalem, some had survived World War Two
And the thunderous explosion blew out windows 200 yards away
With more retribution and seventeen dead along the road to peace

Now at King George Ave and Jaffa Road passengers boarded bus 14a
In the aisle next to the driver Abdel Mahdi (Shahmay)
And the last thing that he said on earth is "God is great and God is good"
And he blew them all to kingdom come upon the road to peace

Now in response to this another kiss of death was visited upon
Yasser Taha, Israel says is an Hamas senior militant
And Israel sent four choppers in, flames engulfed, tears wide open
And it killed his wife and his three year old child leaving only blackened skeletons

It's found his toddlers bottle and a pair of small shoes and they waved them in front of the cameras
But Israel says they did not know that his wife and child were in the car
There are roadblocks everywhere and only suffering on TV
Neither side will ever give up their smallest right along the road to peace

Israel launched it's latest campaign against Hamas on Tuesday
Two days later Hamas shot back and killed five Israeli soldiers
So thousands dead and wounded on both sides most of them middle eastern civilians
They fill the children full of hate to fight an old man's war and die upon the road to peace

"And this is our land we will fight with all our force" say the Palastinians and the Jews
Each side will cut off the hand of anyone who tries to stop the resistance
If the right eye offends thee then you must pluck it out
And Mahmoud Abbas said Sharon had been lost out along the road to peace

Once Kissinger said "we have no friends, America only has interests"
Now our president wants to be seen as a hero and he's hungry for re-election
But Bush is reluctant to risk his future in the fear of his political failures
So he plays chess at his desk and poses for the press 10,000 miles from the road to peace

In the video that they found at the home of Abdel Mahdi (Shahmay)
He held a Kalashnikov rifle and he spoke with a voice like a boy
He was an excellent student, he studied so hard, it was as if he had a future
He told his mother that he had a test that day out along the road to peace

The fundamentalist killing on both sides is standing in the path of peace
But tell me why are we arming the Israeli army with guns and tanks and bullets?
And if God is great and God is good why can’t he change the hearts of men?
Well maybe God himself is lost and needs help
Maybe God himself he needs all of our help
Maybe God himself is lost and needs help
He's out upon the road to peace

Well maybe God himself is lost and needs help
Maybe God himself he needs all of our help
And he's lost upon the road to peace
And he's lost upon the road to peace
Out upon the road to peace.

Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards out today. You can here some tracks by checking out Tom's MySpace.

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Monday, November 20, 2006
Crazy
My hosting service must have crashed sometime last night. After not being able to access any of my sites for most of the day, they suddenly all come back online, only cached copies from sometime in September. I've spent the last two hours uploading current copies of each site to bring everything back to some semblance of normality. There's a bunch of links that are still tweaking out for some reason, but I'm crossing my fingers that everything will gel together in a few hours. On the bright side I was able to recover the Comentario Loco and Spitting Image archives from HDI that I had accidentally deleted a while back. Over the next couple weeks I'm going to be moving both sets of archives here.

Coupling
Coupling aired on the BBC from 2000-2004, apparently as England's answer to Friend's. Molliwogg turned me on to the series a couple months ago after watching a mini-marathon on BBC America. I wound up getting her the box set for her birthday and we've been engaged in our own marathon ever since. I don't think I've had this many tears in my eyes since Bush's reelection. Anyway, here are some quote from the series.

Jeff: She's leaving the country...she doesn't speak English...I insulted her friend's breasts...and she thinks I collect women's ears in a bucket.

Steve: [to Jeff] When you say things like nudity buffer, you actually expect people to know what you mean?
Jeff: Alright, when you first see a woman you like you have a buffer of about five minutes before you have fully mapped out what she looks like naked.
Patrick: A full five?
Jeff: You have to assess her nipple type and that takes time.
Patrick: Oh yeah good point.

Jeff: You know what having a girlfriend is like? Having a girlfriend is like legalized sex.
Steve: Jeff, sex is legal.
Jeff: You know what I mean, when I have sex with Julia, it's just so... realistic.

Sally: Bottoms are our natural enemy... They follow us around our entire lives, right behind us, and constantly growing. How do they do that? I'm sure mine's back there secretly snacking.

Jeff: When God made the arse, he didn't say, 'Hey, it's just your basic hinge, let's knock off early.' He said, 'Behold ye angels, I have created the arse. Throughout the ages to come, men and women shall grab hold of these, and shout my name!

Howard: I am gay! And I've always, always been gay! I was the sperm at the back shouting "No! Don't send me into that big scary cave!" I was the only sperm who had to be chased by the egg. Don't you get it? I'm gay.

Jeff: It must be alot easier being gay. Sex must be a piece of piss if you're gay.
Howard: Why's that?
Jeff: Well, see, if you're gay, right... if you're gay, masturbation is practice! You can have a good old practice on you're own, and when you're ready, when you got the hang of it, you have a go on someone else's.

Steve: What is this?
Susan: It's a cushion.
Steve: Right. Yes. Thank you for that. Very informative.
[to Jeff]
Steve: You got any of these?
Jeff: No.
Steve: Of course you haven't.
[to shop assistant]
Steve: You - are you married? Living with anyone?
Junior Shop Assistant: No.
Steve: Got any of these?
Junior Shop Assistant: No.
Steve: Of course not. Okay!
[to the women]
Steve: You bring these things into our homes. They sit on our chairs. They watch our televisions. Now, I just need to know, on behalf of all men everywhere, I just need to ask, please... What are they for? I mean, look at them! Look at the chubby little bastards! Just sitting around everywhere! What are they, pets for chairs?
[to shop assistants]
Steve: Come on, you sell them. What are they for?
Junior Shop Assistant: Well...
Senior Shop Assistant: You sit on them.
Steve: Ah! Ha ha ha! You see, that's where you're wrong! Nobody sits on them. Okay, watch this. Here's the cushion. I'm putting it on the sofa. Now watch me. I'm siting down. And what do I do on my final approach? I - oh! - move the cushion! You see? It's not involved! It's not part of the whole sitting process. It just lies there. It's fat litter! It's a sofa parasite!
Jane: It's, you know... padding.
Steve: Oh, padding! Now, that's interesting, Jane. See, I like padding. If I was, say, an American Football player, and all those big bastards running at me, I would say "give me some of that padding and be quick about it." If my job involved bouncing down jagged rocks I would say "in view of those jagged rocks down there, I'll have some of that padding, thank you very much." But Susan, Sally, Jane, this is a sofa. It is designed by clever scientists in such a way as to shield the unprotected user from the risk of skin abrasions, serious head trauma, and, of course...
[drops behind sofa, then sticks head out]
Steve: Daleks. Trust me girls, trust me on this one: you do not need padding to tackle upholstery. So please - once and for all, tell me why on Earth you would want me to sit on one of these?
Susan: Because, if you pressed it firmly against your bottom, it might stop you talking!

Sally: I hate having sex at home. I've got a listening flatmate.
Jane: Oh no, I hate those. Do you have to be really quiet for her?
Sally: No, I have to be really loud. We're very competitive.

Jeff: I am a prison for sperms. Those poor little tadpoles have been sentenced to life in Jeff Murdock's groin. And let me tell you, that can be a pretty lonely place.
Steve: I'm sure you always... lend a hand.
Jeff: Well, yeah, there's that. But that's not what the boys are wanting, is it? See, they want to think they're going somewhere when they go. I keep thinking about my brave lads all excited on the launch pad, and then suddenly it's "Uhh, no! Daylight!"

Sally: [Trying to explain to Patrick what platonic friendship with a woman is] What do you call people you go out with but don't try to sleep with?
Patrick: [beat] Men.

Jeff: I need breasts with brains. I don't mean individual brains, obviously... I mean, not a brain each. You know, I like intelligent women, but you've got to draw the line somewhere... I think breast brains would be over-egging the woman pudding.


Saturday, November 18, 2006
Random Thoughts

Friday, November 17, 2006
100 Things About Me (51-75)
51. In the second or third grade (not sure which), I had a close friend commit suicide by hanging himself off our elementary school's jungle gym.
52. I read a lot, mainly non-fiction. With the exception of Harry Potter and a handful of Stephen King and Clive Barker books, I just can't get into fiction. Although I just got through reading The Da Vinci Code - that was alright.
53. I overdosed three times before I turned 21.
54. The following words make my skin crawl - brine, tummy and snarky. I accept the fact that the brine is a legitimate word, but anyone using the other two needs to be shot. Repeatedly.
55. I'm the parent of a teenager.
56. I want more kids.
57. I don't get people who claim to hate kids. Aside from the obvious - they were kids once - I think there has to be some serious self-loathing involved to come to that opinion.
58. I will blindly watch or purchase anything created by Larry David or Ricky Gervais.
59. My mother accidentally cut the tip of my middle finger off when I was around two years old by shutting the offending digit in a car door. Strangely enough I just read that Matthew Perry had the same thing happen to him.
60. I also broke my leg when I was a kid. The story goes some kid ran over my leg while I was sitting in the middle of a bike trail. I'm not sure I buy this scenario. I know people were more or less idiots in the 70's, but who lets their five-year-old sit in the middle of a bike trail? And a hit and run bicyclist? There's more than a few cracks in this story.
61. I hate going out on weekends. I am convinced you will never find interesting people out on a weekend. If you want to meet interesting people Wednesday and Thursday are your best bets. If you want to meet interesting people who are also clinically insane, shoot for Sunday and Monday nights. Tuesday's are okay too. But Saturday and Sunday? Only if it can't be helped.
62. Even before 9/11 I hated flying. I'd much rather drive.
63. I have a pretty extensive collection of hats.
64. I got my first tattoo the day before my 18th birthday. Now I sport more ink than some rock bands.
65. I'm an insomniac.
66. Shortly after high school, some friends of mine found a body in a dumpster behind a mini-mall in Anchorage, AK. A few of us went down to verify their claims, as they weren't the most reliable folks you'd ever meet. They were that time. To this day I can't eat ribs.
67. I've written three movie scripts. Two sucked to high-heaven, the third was okay. As soon as I'm finished editing American Way, I'm going to start on two more. Practice, baby, practice.
68. Bridge to Terabithia and How the Spider Saved Halloween are my two favorite books from when I was a kid.
69. Molliwogg and I have taken baby steps into the stock market. Damn you Mad Money!
70. I'm a total klutz and well on my way towards breaking both my legs. Currently I'm sporting twin scars on each calf from running into trunks, open drawers...anything two-feet tall and under. If there are cords on the floor you can be guaranteed to see me go flying by after tripping over them at least once, usually more. I once destroyed an ex-girlfriend's entire rock collection this way. I eventually replaced them all.
71. Being a klutz gets expensive after a while.
72. I can't stand televised sports. I have to no qualms playing certain sports (tennis, swimming, baseball, bowling, etc.), but watching them bores me stupid.
73. I'm a huge John Denver fan. Finally out of the closet.
74. Keeping on a confessional trip, I've also seen every episode of Friends. I feel so dirty.
75. The Dali Llama waved to me once.


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Thursday, November 16, 2006
RHCP - Charlie
My heart
Your skin
This love
I'm in
We don't arrive, without a surprise
You're right
I'm wrong
Be free
Belong
Intimate sight has come into the light


Sunday, November 12, 2006
Star Wars HD

This has been the weekend of the television zombie. I've been geeking out on non-stop high-definition Star Wars and now my brain is fried. From midnight Friday night/Saturday morning to 7:30 am Monday morning, all six episodes have played in order. Over and over. Fifty-five and a half hours of yummy Star Wars goodness. One wasted, but enjoyable, weekend for moi.

The first night I was determined to watch all six episodes straight, but finally succumbed to sleep around five in the morning. Yesterday I Tivo'd (technically Moxi'd) half the episodes while watching the other half. I also attempted to engage Molliwogg in an ill-fated Star Wars drinking game (see below) that lasted all of an hour before she was toast.

So if you haven't figured it out by now, I'm a pretty big Star Wars fan. C'mon, mid-thirties, male. Toss in the fact that I'm the parent of a 13 year old and I think you can do the math. Coincidently my daughter was the exact same age when the second trilogy came out as I was for the first. I always thought that was pretty cool.

Unlike a lot of Star Wars fans out there, I spent the majority of my teen years and twenties, partying and getting laid. As such, I don't have the same "George Lucas raped my childhood" mentality when it comes to the second trilogy. I even, gasp, like Jar Jar Binks.

At any rate, here are some of my thoughts on Star Wars in HD. First of all, I'm still blown away on how good the CGI Yoda looks in comparison to the puppet. Not just in movement, but the detail and coloration. Beautiful stuff.

I finally saw the X-Wing/Tie Fighter pursuit in Attack of the Clones during the speeder chase. It's only taken me four years, but I finally spotted the little (and I mean little) buggers.

The first four movies don't look a hell of a lot different than they do on DVD. And out of those four, with the exception of a couple scenes, The Phantom Menace looked the worse for wear. In comparison, Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith look amazing in high-definition. As the only two films actually filmed in HD, it's a given they're going to look better, but watching them back to back, as presented by Cinemax, the difference is mind-boggling. Move over Paul, film is dead.

I'm going to have to work out and read books for the next two weeks straight to completely recover from my lost weekend, but it was worth it.

Star Wars: A New Hope Drinking Game (Found on the net.)

1. Anyone turns a lightsaber on or off
2. Anyone mentions the Force
3. Luke whines about something
4. Anyone says "Kenobi"
5. R2-D2 or C-3PO gets damaged
6. Anyone insults the or boasts about the Millennium Falcon
7. Anyone mentions the Death Star's technical plans inside R2-D2
8. Anyone communicates via radio


Friday, November 10, 2006
The Last High

Great song...horrible video.

Thursday, November 09, 2006
He's Watching You














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Wednesday, November 08, 2006
It's Over...

Let me officially throw my hat in the air with the rest of America celebrating the end of yet another political season. It's safe to turn on the television again.

I just can't get excited about any of this anymore. I love politics, I just hate politicians. So the Democrats have regained some power. How long will it take for them to become as corrupt as the people we threw out? Who's going to take their place when we throw them out? Lather, rinse, repeat government gets old after a while and we still have this nasty dandruff problem.

Every politician promises change. Change being a return to wherever we were five, ten, twenty years ago. Two steps forward, three steps back. That's progress?

Boring.
Boring.
Boring.


Sunday, November 05, 2006
Brushes with Fame III
Al Strobel - You may not recognize the name, but if you ever watched Twin Peaks, you're probably familiar with Phillip Michael Gerard aka The One-Armed Man. Al's a longtime resident of Portland, Oregon and could often be found riding his bike around town. In fact, the first time I saw him was when he rode past me in Northwest Portland after I finished a Twin Peaks marathon. Dazed from hours of sleep deprivation and marijuana consumption, having the One-Armed Man ride by on a bicycle moments after I left him on my TV set was more than a little unnerving.

Flash forward a year or so later and Molliwogg and I found ourselves regulars at the Goose Hollow Inn. A former roommate had just hired on at the Goose and, being big fans of free drinks, we quickly made ourselves natives. Turns out Al was a regular as well and, after a week or two, we finally sat down to break suds together.

Like the rest of the regulars there, Al's a really weird guy. I mean that in the best possible sense of the word. Very cool, very laid back, very broke and very weird. He could go on for hours talking about curling and various drug-induced road trips he took in his youth. Soon he ceased to be the One-Armed Man and became Al, just another one of the crazy old guys at the Goose.

Which is not to say he didn't know how to market himself on occasion. As par for the course, the bar closed around one and the Goose Crew would head out to a couple bars in Northwest to finally catch up with the people they have been serving all day. The posse numbered between five and ten people depending on who tagged along that night, and Al was often among us. Normally he'd dress the same as any old codger (again, I mean that in the best since of the word), but on the nights he'd come out drinking with us, he would sport a satin Twin Peaks jacket as a visual aid to alert anyone with doubts that, yes, he was that one-armed man.

Eventually Al moved out of the area and Molliwogg and I moved on from Portland, but we occasionally get status reports from friends who keep in contact with him.

The Dalai Lama - According to the Northwestern Tibetan Cultural Association website, this would have occurred in May 2001. The Dalai Lama was giving a two day speech in Portland's Pioneer Square. I had considered going but my need for spiritual enlightenment was far outweighed by my claustrophobic fears of standing in the midst of approximately a gazillion people crammed into one city block. I wound up forgetting about it all together.

I was living in Northwest Portland at the time and walked pretty much everywhere. Despite being more or less logically laid out, it still takes less time to walk from point A to point B in Portland, at least in the downtown/Northwest/Pearl District, than it does to drive. I had just crossed one of the many 405 overpasses when I noticed a motorcade coming up on me - lots of cops on motorcycles, pretty red and blue lights, the whole nine yards. I figured it was a cop funeral.

I'm watching them pass and as the limousine they were escorting goes by, I notice the back window is open and, half-hanging out of it, the Dalai Lama is smiling and waving to the few of us that happened to be walking by. We made eye contact and I managed to lift my arm just enough to perform a passable, but totally lame wave. And then he was gone.

This will forever remain the most surreal moment of my life. The only things I can think of that would even come close on the bizarre-o-meter, would be turning the corner and seeing Bigfoot, or bumping into Elvis at the local tavern. (Although I'm pretty sure I saw Elvis working at the St. Johns Safeway in Portland, but that's another story.)

That's about it as far as brushes with fame go. Molliwogg and I passed by Martin Sheen in a Vegas casino once, and she ran into Erik Estrada in the Reno International Airport - a meeting I would kill to have on my resume. I'll settle for what I got, but man, Ponch? That's too cool.


Friday, November 03, 2006
Brushes with Fame pt. II
Greg Graffin (Bad Religion) - On October 15, 1993, I caught Bad Religion at La Luna in sunny Portland, Oregon. After the show I called a cab to head home and a few minutes later Mary the cabbie entered my life. Mary was straight out of Night on Earth - funky, feisty, and most certainly deranged - my kind of gal. Anyway, she got my call but had a fare ahead of me so she shooed me off with the promise she'd be back for me in ten minutes or so. No prob.

I waited outside the venue people watching and eavesdropping until, true to her word, Mary came back to get me. Walking over to the cab, I was cockblocked by a couple gorillas seeking to claim my ride. Seeing me come over, one them throws a mitt in my face and in an officious tone barks, "This cab's for Bad Religion!"

Whatever.

Before I can respond, Mary goes Rambo on their asses, "Oh no it isn't! This cab's for Marq!" At this point all I can do is smile, there's something infinitely charming about having your honor defended by a total stranger.

Realizing there was no room for argument, the gorillas backed off. I hopped in the cab and, after thanking Mary for coming to my defense, let her know I had no qualms splitting the ride with any member of the band looking for a lift. It was at that moment I learned a valuable lesson. Like cops and emergency vehicles, cabs can go just about anywhere and no one will say a word.

Seconds later we've driven past more gorillas and found ourselves safely ensconced in the back parking lot with the band - a location off-limits to anyone but authorized personnel and, apparently, cabbies. Greg Graffin, the band's lead singer, walks over to the cab and leans into the driver's side window to let Mary know he won't be needing a ride after all. I'm pretty sure he hadn't realized the cab was occupied until I piped up in full-on Chester the Molester creepy fanboy mode. "C'mon Greg. C'mon Mr. Rock Star. We got some candy in here, all you need to do is get inside." Granted these were not my exact words, but I have no doubt that's how they came off.

Despite my obvious charm, Mr. Graffin managed to resist the urge to drive off into the night with a crazed fan. Still, the evening wasn't a total bust, I did manage to get him to sign my ticket, even if it was from a safe distance.

Mojo Nixon - I've long held the belief that everyone should see at least one Mojo Nixon concert in their lifetime. To date, I've managed to catch three, and now that Nixon is "unretired," I'm hoping for the opportunity to see a couple more.

The second time I saw him was on December 4, 1994 at the Key Largo (now Ohm) in Portland, Oregon. After the show I was waiting for my date to return from the restroom when I noticed a small crowd congregating around Nixon a few feet away. I had some time to kill, so I walked over and stood in line to have my minute of Mojo.

When it was my turn to say hello, I found Nixon staring into his hand at the gift a previous fan palmed him as he said goodbye. He looked up at me, held out his hand and asked, "What do you think this is?"

In his outstretched palm was a nice sized chunk of marijuana. I got the feeling this was a trick question as Nixon was wearing a High Times shirt at the time, and it seemed especially strange that a touring musician would have to ask the identity of an illicit substance, especially one as pedestrian as Mary Jane, but I told him anyway. His response surprised me even more.

"Never touch the stuff."

Now I'm confused. This is rock-n-roll. That's a High Times shirt he's wearing. Is Mojo a narc? Am I on Candid Camera? Before I could assimilate any of this, he asked me if I wanted it.

"You bet! Thanks man."

Narc or no narc, I've never been one to turn down free herbage. By this time my date had found me and it was time to split. We got home without being pulled over, reassuring me that Nixon wasn't wired, and proceeded to blaze. This is my favorite concert stories ever. Not only did a rocker give me free drugs, I didn't have to wake up the next morning sore and three hundred miles from home to get it. Thanks Mojo.

To be continued...


Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Brushes with Fame pt. I

Johnny Cash - The Fourth Avenue Theater in downtown Anchorage, Alaska has gone through more changes than Madonna. Since it's opening in 1947, the building's been used as a traditional theater, a movie house, concert hall, special events venue and more, even one of the local television stations set up shop there at one point. Carrying on to this day, no one seems to know what to do with the place.

When I was thirteen years old, I went down to the Fourth Avenue to catch Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (imdb lists the release date as July 1985, so it would have been sometime around then). The movie itself sucked, but you probably already knew that. After it was over I waited around the outside of the theater for a while - either for a bus or for my mother to come pick me up, I don't remember which. A few minutes into my wait, Johnny Cash walks past. I'm not sure what he was doing in Alaska at the time, it wasn't to play a show, but it was him. I give it a 5 out of ten on the surreal-o-meter.

Lars Ulrich (Metallica) - According to the Encyclopedia Metallica (Who knew there was such a thing?), this would have happened in May 1989. Metallica played the Sullivan Arena on the 27th - a show I had tickets to, but walked out before the band even started, but that's another story - the following evening their drummer, Lars Ulrich, and posse showed up at the theater I was working at to catch a flick. Within minutes of their arrival the word spread - an impressive feat in the pre-cell phone days - and a couple hundred fans lined the entrance of the theater waiting for a glimpse of their hairy hero.

One of my duties at the theater was to perform hourly visual checks on the bathrooms - check the temperature, make sure there were paper towels, that sort of thing. Shortly after Metalliboy arrives, I head into the bathroom to make my rounds and am stopped cold by the realization that the only other person in the bathroom is, of course, Ulrich. Hearing me enter, Lars turned his head to see me stop dead in my tracks. Our eyes locked. The rock star and the crazy punker kid dressed up in a tuxedo, six feet apart, one hand holding a million dollar Johnson, another holding a two dollar clipboard. You could almost hear spaghetti western music playing in the background - this was a showdown, and an awkward one at that.

After what seemed like hours, but was in reality two or three seconds, it became obvious that as the least occupied member (pun intended) of the showdown, I had to make the first move. I did the only thing a seventeen-year-old could do when faced with such absurdity, I rolled my eyes while executing an about face so rigid it would have brought a tear to Col. Klink's monocle and bailed.

To be continued...


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