There's probably a snappy title somewhere in this, along the lines of no return policies or similar. But I'm not in the mood for jokes. It's my own fault, really, and I should have known better to click on this headline. My blood is still boiling.
Basically, an American woman called Torry-Ann Hansen adopted a seven-year old Russian boy and he went to go and live with her in Tenessee. So far so good. Then, six months later she decided she couldn't cope with his bad behaviour, and didn't want to be his mother after all. So she sent him back. On a plane, on his own, with a note. Also with (and I include this information purely in the interests of fair reporting, which is more than Torry-Ann deserves, if you ask me) some colouring pencils and snacks.
The snacks and stationery don't do a lot to change my opinion of Torry-Ann, but maybe that's just me. There's also a reason that this particular story has hit a raw nerve, which I am still sorting out in my head and which I may post later. For now let it be known: I don't know that much about Torry-Ann Hansen. But I do know that I don't care for her much.
Friday, 9 April 2010
Thursday, 8 April 2010
Swans *probably* have teeth
I was talking to a friend last night who swears they do. Now I'm not saying I didn't believe her, but I have just Googled "do swans have teeth". Just because, you know, I was curious.
The first result was from WikiAnswers, where someone had conveniently asked the exact same question that I had (I love it when a plan comes together!). This was the answer:
Yes swans do have teeth. i have a picture with a swans mouth open trying to bite and it clearly shows they have teeth.
I would dearly love to see that picture.
The first result was from WikiAnswers, where someone had conveniently asked the exact same question that I had (I love it when a plan comes together!). This was the answer:
Yes swans do have teeth. i have a picture with a swans mouth open trying to bite and it clearly shows they have teeth.
I would dearly love to see that picture.
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Zombies, balloons and the NHS have more in common that you might think
Edited: May 2020
I wrote this post a long, long time ago. At the time, it did accurately reflect my feelings about Twitter, and various other people who were using it as a platform.
A lot has changed since then. Twitter is a very different place than it once was, and there are certain individuals in particular who use it in ways I feel very uncomfortable about, and certainly would never condone.
In fact, at the start of this year, I would have told you that this post was describing a version of Twitter which was completely unrecognisable to me. It definitely wasn't a place I could say I really, really loved. It was no longer even a place I even liked, very much, and was somewhere I was starting to actively avoid.
And then the Covid-19 pandemic hit. If there are any silver linings to be found in the current situation - and I do think it's important to seek those out - one of them is that Twitter has, in very broad terms, become a lot less toxic again. I don't think we're anywhere near that warm, lovely heyday from over a decade ago, but over the last few months I have started to witness, and become directly involved in, the types of conversations I used to know and love - full of wit, wisdom, joy, generosity, kindness, and sometimes just downright silliness. It has been really, really, nice.
So I do stand by most of what I wrote in this post. But not all of it. In particular, the specific Twitter account I mention in the final paragraph is being used in a very different way now from how it once was, and is an account I not only no longer follow but have also muted. Of all of the changes I've seen on Twitter in the last decade, I think this is the one I find most baffling, and which I am the saddest about. And while I know it's unlikely that anyone will read, or care about, how I felt about this over a decade ago - even if they do stumble across this post - I'd still like to distance myself from the sentiments expressed in that final paragraph.
I discovered the other day, through means which will eventually become clear, that this blog has an actual, proper, someone-who-isn't-me reader. (Hello Paul, if you are still here.) I was quite excited.
The means-which-will-soon-become-clear involved the wonderful world of Twitter. "Wonderful world of" might sound a bit glib, but it isn't meant to. I genuinely do really, really love Twitter. A lot. Partly I love the fact that it has given clever, creative people a new platfom to play with, and as a result they've made lots of silly things. (I imagine (and really, really, hope) there are more of these I have yet to discover. The possibilities are endless.)
Also, hashtag games are fun. And through people I follow I've picked up some brilliant recomendations for films, and music, and blogs, and books, and articles, and restaurants and iPhone apps, and......well, you get my point. I follow some very funny people, and I've laughed out loud at their tweets and RTs. I've seen behind the scenes of some of my favourite TV shows. I've found some great writing advice. I've heard about work opportunities and bought my current favourite t-shirt. (If you clicked, that's not my actual t-shirt by the way. There's a different design each day and for all I know the one you have just looked at could have been horrible. The one I bought was *much* cooler (probably)).
Becuase there are, unbelievably, more important things in the world than the contents of my wardrobe, I'm also really glad that stuff like the #WeLoveTheNHS campaign and, to a lesser extent, the Jan Moir/Stephen Gately backlash, happen on Twitter. These, in my book, were both Very Good Things. (For the most part, anway, in the case of JM/SG).
Basically, from what I've seen, Twitter is bursting at the seams with Very Good Things. As a general rule, people who tweet seem to be kind, and witty, and wise, and warm, and helpful, and generous, and funny, and in posession of a fair amount of common sense. (What would an unfair amount of common sense be, I wonder?)
I know that I'm making a massive generalisation (always dangerous, making generalisations, absolutely always) and that there are some exceptions to this. And yes, there have been some well documented and pretty unpleasant 'Twitter Wars', (I'm not linking to them here: what's the point?) and yes, sometimes people set up fake accounts claiming to be other people and the other people they are claiming to be don't like that very much (who can blame them?).
I've noticed, though, that the people who do try and inject the occasional bit of nastiness tend to get shouted down pretty quickly. Usually, more politely than in some other online environments. (Once again, I know I'm generalising massively here. It's still always wrong to do so. Are we sick of this joke yet? No? That's lucky.)
Maybe if I was a famous celebrity (I'm not) who had thousands of followers (I don't) and a constant stream of @replies (ditto) I'd come into contact with more of the ugly stuff than I do now. I'd like to think though, that proportionally I wouldn't. There is very little chance I'll ever test out this theory.
So for now, I'm very happy to keep believing that the Twitter world is, by and large, a shiny happy place, full of pretty decent people, where goodness and common sense rule the land. That's exactly my kind of town.
Mainly what I love about Twitter is this: I dip in daily, and in doing so have seen hundreds, if not thousands of tweets from people answering questions, giving advice, speaking words of encouragement, sharing jokes, offering sympathy, retweeting charity requests, and doing all sorts of other lovely, lovely things for no obvious reward. Often for people they don't know. Occasionally, for me. I know this sort of stuff goes on in the real world too. But with Twitter you get to see a lot more of it in a much shorter space of time. It's like a shot of espresso to the soul.
I have been thinking about all of this ever since Monday, when a complete stranger not only offered me advice about a fairly mundane, domestic issue I was dealing with (broken toaster, since you ask) but then went on to say some really kind words in response to some of the things I have been blogging (more to the point, moaning) about lately. Like I say, there are many Very Good Things to be found on Twitter. My first actual, proper, someone-who-isn't-me reader is definitely one of them.
The NHS campaign, by the way, was masterminded by the brilliant Graham Linehan, whose tweets were also the source of a couple of of the recommendations mentioned earlier. (See if you can spot which ones. Or don't. It's up to you, really.). I have him to thank for a lot of things, not the least of which is the ridiculous title of this post.
I wrote this post a long, long time ago. At the time, it did accurately reflect my feelings about Twitter, and various other people who were using it as a platform.
A lot has changed since then. Twitter is a very different place than it once was, and there are certain individuals in particular who use it in ways I feel very uncomfortable about, and certainly would never condone.
In fact, at the start of this year, I would have told you that this post was describing a version of Twitter which was completely unrecognisable to me. It definitely wasn't a place I could say I really, really loved. It was no longer even a place I even liked, very much, and was somewhere I was starting to actively avoid.
And then the Covid-19 pandemic hit. If there are any silver linings to be found in the current situation - and I do think it's important to seek those out - one of them is that Twitter has, in very broad terms, become a lot less toxic again. I don't think we're anywhere near that warm, lovely heyday from over a decade ago, but over the last few months I have started to witness, and become directly involved in, the types of conversations I used to know and love - full of wit, wisdom, joy, generosity, kindness, and sometimes just downright silliness. It has been really, really, nice.
So I do stand by most of what I wrote in this post. But not all of it. In particular, the specific Twitter account I mention in the final paragraph is being used in a very different way now from how it once was, and is an account I not only no longer follow but have also muted. Of all of the changes I've seen on Twitter in the last decade, I think this is the one I find most baffling, and which I am the saddest about. And while I know it's unlikely that anyone will read, or care about, how I felt about this over a decade ago - even if they do stumble across this post - I'd still like to distance myself from the sentiments expressed in that final paragraph.
I discovered the other day, through means which will eventually become clear, that this blog has an actual, proper, someone-who-isn't-me reader. (Hello Paul, if you are still here.) I was quite excited.
The means-which-will-soon-become-clear involved the wonderful world of Twitter. "Wonderful world of" might sound a bit glib, but it isn't meant to. I genuinely do really, really love Twitter. A lot. Partly I love the fact that it has given clever, creative people a new platfom to play with, and as a result they've made lots of silly things. (I imagine (and really, really, hope) there are more of these I have yet to discover. The possibilities are endless.)
Also, hashtag games are fun. And through people I follow I've picked up some brilliant recomendations for films, and music, and blogs, and books, and articles, and restaurants and iPhone apps, and......well, you get my point. I follow some very funny people, and I've laughed out loud at their tweets and RTs. I've seen behind the scenes of some of my favourite TV shows. I've found some great writing advice. I've heard about work opportunities and bought my current favourite t-shirt. (If you clicked, that's not my actual t-shirt by the way. There's a different design each day and for all I know the one you have just looked at could have been horrible. The one I bought was *much* cooler (probably)).
Becuase there are, unbelievably, more important things in the world than the contents of my wardrobe, I'm also really glad that stuff like the #WeLoveTheNHS campaign and, to a lesser extent, the Jan Moir/Stephen Gately backlash, happen on Twitter. These, in my book, were both Very Good Things. (For the most part, anway, in the case of JM/SG).
Basically, from what I've seen, Twitter is bursting at the seams with Very Good Things. As a general rule, people who tweet seem to be kind, and witty, and wise, and warm, and helpful, and generous, and funny, and in posession of a fair amount of common sense. (What would an unfair amount of common sense be, I wonder?)
I know that I'm making a massive generalisation (always dangerous, making generalisations, absolutely always) and that there are some exceptions to this. And yes, there have been some well documented and pretty unpleasant 'Twitter Wars', (I'm not linking to them here: what's the point?) and yes, sometimes people set up fake accounts claiming to be other people and the other people they are claiming to be don't like that very much (who can blame them?).
I've noticed, though, that the people who do try and inject the occasional bit of nastiness tend to get shouted down pretty quickly. Usually, more politely than in some other online environments. (Once again, I know I'm generalising massively here. It's still always wrong to do so. Are we sick of this joke yet? No? That's lucky.)
Maybe if I was a famous celebrity (I'm not) who had thousands of followers (I don't) and a constant stream of @replies (ditto) I'd come into contact with more of the ugly stuff than I do now. I'd like to think though, that proportionally I wouldn't. There is very little chance I'll ever test out this theory.
So for now, I'm very happy to keep believing that the Twitter world is, by and large, a shiny happy place, full of pretty decent people, where goodness and common sense rule the land. That's exactly my kind of town.
Mainly what I love about Twitter is this: I dip in daily, and in doing so have seen hundreds, if not thousands of tweets from people answering questions, giving advice, speaking words of encouragement, sharing jokes, offering sympathy, retweeting charity requests, and doing all sorts of other lovely, lovely things for no obvious reward. Often for people they don't know. Occasionally, for me. I know this sort of stuff goes on in the real world too. But with Twitter you get to see a lot more of it in a much shorter space of time. It's like a shot of espresso to the soul.
I have been thinking about all of this ever since Monday, when a complete stranger not only offered me advice about a fairly mundane, domestic issue I was dealing with (broken toaster, since you ask) but then went on to say some really kind words in response to some of the things I have been blogging (more to the point, moaning) about lately. Like I say, there are many Very Good Things to be found on Twitter. My first actual, proper, someone-who-isn't-me reader is definitely one of them.
The NHS campaign, by the way, was masterminded by the brilliant Graham Linehan, whose tweets were also the source of a couple of of the recommendations mentioned earlier. (See if you can spot which ones. Or don't. It's up to you, really.). I have him to thank for a lot of things, not the least of which is the ridiculous title of this post.
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
They're singing our song
I'm off to the hairdresser in a bit. Now that you know that, you can probably guess that fairly recently I thought to myself "I really need to get a haircut". What you won't know, though, is that then my brain instantly and automatically went "and get a real job". Just like it always does when I think I ought to get a haircut. (If you don't know why, then clearly you are missing this in your life.)
For some reason today it tickled me more than usual, probably becuase I do, as it happens, need to get both a haircut and a job. it's not often you find yourself in a situation which can be described exactly, and literally, by a song title. Sometimes it doesn't take much to tickle me. It also made me think. Surely there must be loads more songs like this.
Imagine a short break here, while I walk half way down the hall towards where my iPod is docked, realise I could just look at iTunes on this computer without having to undock my iPod and interrupt the Stereophonics*, then turn around again and walk back to my laptop where I have a quick flick through my iTunes library for inspiration. Isn't time travel fun?
Guess what? There are.
My favourite, so far, is Sophie Ellis Bextor's Murder on the Dancefloor which, you will be glad to know, for me *isn't* a Song Title Which Exactly And Literally Describes The Situation. (I hope that's true for most people). But if I happened to be called Lola and was a showgirl-with-feathers-in-my-hair-and-a-dress-cut-down-to-there, it absolutely would be.
Others I have spotted so far, leaving aside the obvious ones (I Don't Like Mondays too generic, You're So Vain too much of a cliche) include Everything's Not Lost by Coldplay: mainly because I sorted out the cupboard where my immersion heater is this morning so that the plumber could get to it, and found my favourite jumper and several missing shoes. Result.
Also, A Whiter Shade of Pale is the colour of my walls, which were, when I first moved into my flat, more an off-white kind of colour (because I re-painted them proper white, not because I cleaned them freakishly well or anything).
I've often thought that one of the best jobs in the world would be to be the person who gets to decide which music to play over which part of films and TV shows. I'm sure, like most jobs, it's not always as fun as it seems, but still. I'd give it a go. And I'm thinking this could be a novel approach.
Right, I'm not done with these yet, but I need to send a couple of emails before I go to the hairdresser. So, as Flight of the Conchords would say, It's Business Time. And I do mean that literally.
*Caravan Holiday, in case you were wondering, which doesn't describe what I'm doing in the slightest. Although I quite wish it was.
For some reason today it tickled me more than usual, probably becuase I do, as it happens, need to get both a haircut and a job. it's not often you find yourself in a situation which can be described exactly, and literally, by a song title. Sometimes it doesn't take much to tickle me. It also made me think. Surely there must be loads more songs like this.
Imagine a short break here, while I walk half way down the hall towards where my iPod is docked, realise I could just look at iTunes on this computer without having to undock my iPod and interrupt the Stereophonics*, then turn around again and walk back to my laptop where I have a quick flick through my iTunes library for inspiration. Isn't time travel fun?
Guess what? There are.
My favourite, so far, is Sophie Ellis Bextor's Murder on the Dancefloor which, you will be glad to know, for me *isn't* a Song Title Which Exactly And Literally Describes The Situation. (I hope that's true for most people). But if I happened to be called Lola and was a showgirl-with-feathers-in-my-hair-and-a-dress-cut-down-to-there, it absolutely would be.
Others I have spotted so far, leaving aside the obvious ones (I Don't Like Mondays too generic, You're So Vain too much of a cliche) include Everything's Not Lost by Coldplay: mainly because I sorted out the cupboard where my immersion heater is this morning so that the plumber could get to it, and found my favourite jumper and several missing shoes. Result.
Also, A Whiter Shade of Pale is the colour of my walls, which were, when I first moved into my flat, more an off-white kind of colour (because I re-painted them proper white, not because I cleaned them freakishly well or anything).
I've often thought that one of the best jobs in the world would be to be the person who gets to decide which music to play over which part of films and TV shows. I'm sure, like most jobs, it's not always as fun as it seems, but still. I'd give it a go. And I'm thinking this could be a novel approach.
Right, I'm not done with these yet, but I need to send a couple of emails before I go to the hairdresser. So, as Flight of the Conchords would say, It's Business Time. And I do mean that literally.
*Caravan Holiday, in case you were wondering, which doesn't describe what I'm doing in the slightest. Although I quite wish it was.
Monday, 5 April 2010
I am not going to moan*
Despite the evidence of the last couple of posts, I am determined not to let this become an outlet for self-pity, annoying whining, or woe-is-me tales about how crap life can be sometimes.
So with that in mind, I'm not going to tell you how today has, so far, only been marginally more productive than yesterday. Or that my toaster died this morning. Or even mention my pathetic lack of progress with DIY jobs/course application/insert-any-useful-activity-you-can-think of.
Just so you know.
Instead, here are some things that have cheered me up today:
1. David on this week's Come Dine With Me: "I'm giving Sharon a nine. Because I love Sharon, and I think she's great, and I'd give her absolutely anything. Except a ten." (I'm paraphrasing slightly, but that was the gist of it. He was quite drunk, I think.)
2. I am reading The Diary of a Provincial Lady for the first, but definitely (and I know this already) not the last time. It is literally impossible to stay in a bad mood while reading this book. I only wish I had discovered it sooner.
In a nut-shell, the PL is slightly self-depreciating, worried about what others think, and on a constant mission of self improvement. A married, 1930s upper-midle-class version of Bridget Jones, basically. The diary is full of her 'note-to-self' type memos, and brilliantly wry, witty observations about day to day country life, some of which are just glorious:
"Am asked what I think of Hariet Hume but am unable to say as I have not read it.
Have a depressed feeling that this is going to be another case of Orlando about which
was perfectly able to talk intelligently until I read it"
"Think of several rather tart and witty rejoinders to this, but not until Lady B.'s Bentley
has taken her away."
"Feel that life is wholly unendurable, and decide madly to get a new hat"
I know how she feels, sometimes.
3. The dancing duck (I think? It could be a goose or a chicken, I'm not sure. It's also not really relevant) on the Five Alive juice adverts. No particular reason, it's just funny.
Oh, I've just discovered, while searching for a video, that it's actually a dodo. For some reason I can't post the video here, but this should link to it.**
*much
** I wish to point out, this is not an endorsement. I have never actually, to my knowledge, tried 5 alive juices. They might be very nice. They also might not.
So with that in mind, I'm not going to tell you how today has, so far, only been marginally more productive than yesterday. Or that my toaster died this morning. Or even mention my pathetic lack of progress with DIY jobs/course application/insert-any-useful-activity-you-can-think of.
Just so you know.
Instead, here are some things that have cheered me up today:
1. David on this week's Come Dine With Me: "I'm giving Sharon a nine. Because I love Sharon, and I think she's great, and I'd give her absolutely anything. Except a ten." (I'm paraphrasing slightly, but that was the gist of it. He was quite drunk, I think.)
2. I am reading The Diary of a Provincial Lady for the first, but definitely (and I know this already) not the last time. It is literally impossible to stay in a bad mood while reading this book. I only wish I had discovered it sooner.
In a nut-shell, the PL is slightly self-depreciating, worried about what others think, and on a constant mission of self improvement. A married, 1930s upper-midle-class version of Bridget Jones, basically. The diary is full of her 'note-to-self' type memos, and brilliantly wry, witty observations about day to day country life, some of which are just glorious:
"Am asked what I think of Hariet Hume but am unable to say as I have not read it.
Have a depressed feeling that this is going to be another case of Orlando about which
was perfectly able to talk intelligently until I read it"
"Think of several rather tart and witty rejoinders to this, but not until Lady B.'s Bentley
has taken her away."
"Feel that life is wholly unendurable, and decide madly to get a new hat"
I know how she feels, sometimes.
3. The dancing duck (I think? It could be a goose or a chicken, I'm not sure. It's also not really relevant) on the Five Alive juice adverts. No particular reason, it's just funny.
Oh, I've just discovered, while searching for a video, that it's actually a dodo. For some reason I can't post the video here, but this should link to it.**
*much
** I wish to point out, this is not an endorsement. I have never actually, to my knowledge, tried 5 alive juices. They might be very nice. They also might not.
Sunday, 4 April 2010
Sigh
Today has not been one of my finest days. In the absence of any Easter eggs, I devoured an entire box of Jaffa Cakes. This, I hasten to point out, happened over the course of the entire day, not in one sitting (which would have been far, far worse, right? Please tell me I'm right).
This wouldn't be so bad, were it not for the fact that this was quite literally the *only* thing I managed to achieve today. And when I say only, I mean it in the 'wasted the entire day doing nothing but flicking through TV channels and randomly surfing the internet, and didn't even realise until 4pm that I was still in my pyjamas' way, not in the 'only got through twelve of the twenty things on my 'to do' list' or 'still didn't get around to starting work on that award winning screenplay' kind of way.
There were lots of things I was meant to do today: finish my course application, for one, and deal with the consequences of a bookshelf that fell down last night, for another. (The constantly falling down bookshelves in my flat are a saga unto themselves, worthy of a separate post which may or may not eventually get written. And given the way today went, the latter is looking more likely).
I did pick up all of the books and put them away when the shelf came down yesterday, but there are still boring stupid DIY tasks, like filling the holes where the screws were, to do. These are just the latest additions to a growing list of boring stupid DIY tasks which need doing around my flat; none of which, it won't surprise you to learn, got done today either. I hate boring stupid DIY tasks.
So that was my day. And if you think, by blogging about it, I'm trying to shame myself back into kick-ass action mode tomorrow, you're absolutely right. On the bright side, at least there won't be any jaffa cakes left to distract me.
This wouldn't be so bad, were it not for the fact that this was quite literally the *only* thing I managed to achieve today. And when I say only, I mean it in the 'wasted the entire day doing nothing but flicking through TV channels and randomly surfing the internet, and didn't even realise until 4pm that I was still in my pyjamas' way, not in the 'only got through twelve of the twenty things on my 'to do' list' or 'still didn't get around to starting work on that award winning screenplay' kind of way.
There were lots of things I was meant to do today: finish my course application, for one, and deal with the consequences of a bookshelf that fell down last night, for another. (The constantly falling down bookshelves in my flat are a saga unto themselves, worthy of a separate post which may or may not eventually get written. And given the way today went, the latter is looking more likely).
I did pick up all of the books and put them away when the shelf came down yesterday, but there are still boring stupid DIY tasks, like filling the holes where the screws were, to do. These are just the latest additions to a growing list of boring stupid DIY tasks which need doing around my flat; none of which, it won't surprise you to learn, got done today either. I hate boring stupid DIY tasks.
So that was my day. And if you think, by blogging about it, I'm trying to shame myself back into kick-ass action mode tomorrow, you're absolutely right. On the bright side, at least there won't be any jaffa cakes left to distract me.
Thursday, 1 April 2010
Been a while
I've not been here much, partly because of five days spent in Italy without any internet access, and mainly becuase the reality of having no work, and more importantly no income, has been scaring the bejesus out of me ever since I got back. I knew it would happen eventually, but panic has started to creep in and so I've been focusing on trying to sort out some actual, real, paid for work. It's not much fun. I've also been working on this; my shiny new, 'work' blog.
My job hunting efforts have included both specific applications and general enquiries, which I hate. The good news is a few balls have started rolling (I have an interview in a couple of weeks, for something I'm still not 100% sure about, but then I thought exactly the same thing going into the first interview for my most recent job, and left desperately wanting to work there. So who knows.) The bad news is that I have learnt I will do almost anything else at all instead of writing to strangers and saying "hey, wanna employ me?"
And I really do mean anything. Avoidance tactics I have deployed so far include cleaning the extractor fan in my kitchen, putting my entire CD collection into iTunes, and finally arranging a plumber to come and work out why I haven't hot water anywhere apart from in my shower for the entire three years I've owned my flat. (I still don't know yet, she is coming on Tuesday. I thought by calling a female plumber I'd feel less stupid admitting it has hever worked and has taken me this long to get around to getting it sorted out. As it turns out, I was wrong.)
My job hunting efforts have included both specific applications and general enquiries, which I hate. The good news is a few balls have started rolling (I have an interview in a couple of weeks, for something I'm still not 100% sure about, but then I thought exactly the same thing going into the first interview for my most recent job, and left desperately wanting to work there. So who knows.) The bad news is that I have learnt I will do almost anything else at all instead of writing to strangers and saying "hey, wanna employ me?"
And I really do mean anything. Avoidance tactics I have deployed so far include cleaning the extractor fan in my kitchen, putting my entire CD collection into iTunes, and finally arranging a plumber to come and work out why I haven't hot water anywhere apart from in my shower for the entire three years I've owned my flat. (I still don't know yet, she is coming on Tuesday. I thought by calling a female plumber I'd feel less stupid admitting it has hever worked and has taken me this long to get around to getting it sorted out. As it turns out, I was wrong.)
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