Last And First

When I first started with WordPress, pert near on 3 years ago I do reckon, I was very prolific with my new posts. I was spouting off everyday, sometimes 3 posts a day; cranking out some good stuff, some bad stuff, but mostly inane stuff.

Fun though….wp-1460852779979.jpg

But, it seems like I have either burned out this year or something weird; I bet I haven’t posted anything new or noteworthy for quite a spell.

No, no I don’t have writers block. You have to be a WRITER to get blocked.

I am just a hack.

People that can stay focused, dedicated or obsessed in creating a work of literature, poetry or the like, or maintaining a continuing stream of thought that keeps others intrigued or interested….

That’s a writer.

I just get easily bored with nothing else to do.

That’s how I am, I guess; or the only excuse or maybe justification I can even use for my apparent apathy towards my sleazy, sticky, fumbling attempts at writing.

I know how I can get with things and it makes me even crazier.

I have the attention span of a $2 crackhead….or maybe a gnat.

Speaking of my creativity or lack thereof, my dwindling level of interest, my non-existent ability to focus on anything other than cooking shows or the Discovery Channel for periods longer than 30 minutes, my aforementioned miniscule attention span, my “creative juice” seems to ebb and flow.animanshandsholdingwater

Speaking of juice, my posting is kinda like my 52-year-old testosterone level, really….

At an elderly 52 years old (which I’ve never been this old before) I will unabashedly admit that I would kill for an early morning wake-up boner or WOOD as it is also referenced as by the male of our species; or I’d give a kidney for a boner with amorous intent or hell, I’d be grateful to the point of tears and snot for a boner at the worst possible time. You fella’s reading this know the kind of boner I mean….


The kind of boner that a cat can’t scratch or one that could cut diamonds!

Ahhh…the memories.

No, I haven’t any shame or ability to be embarrassed any longer.

I lost that on my 50th birthday.

The truth will set me free.


However, now that I ponder a little more on my bonelessness (is that a word?) I would consider selling my soul to whatever devil exists in this millennium to treat my long-suffering, dearly betrothed, regretfully abstaining wife to a good ol’fashioned Viking rape and pillage.

It would have to be a Viking rape fantasy playtime, if I ever get the chance. Last time I had wood, I was a masked burglar that jumped out of the closet to assault her and she shot me…..

Ok, I’m getting side-tracked…..again; see how easily I get distracted?

Told you….

[Quick present moment reality admission]

I made my morning coffee too strong. I have sweat running down my ribs and man boobs. I swear to God there is cocaine in Folgers 100% Columbian.

Hmmm….could be a connection here with my inability to write anything lately…..

Just add copious amounts of stimulants, give me a dose of inspiration or a reason to bitch (which could be the same , I guess) crack open the laptop, back away from the crazy person and watch the fat man dance.

It’s resolution time of course, and here are mine.

More dope than a Mexican cartel…


I will post updates, stories or assholes…oops, I meant opinions, at least twice a week; or maybe more if the caffiene is pure or when my testosterone is up.

Please, Jesus…..

I will practice more on my guitar playing and not on buying them.

I will sketch more.

I will get older.

Ok, good, now that that’s out-of-the-way.

I’ll talk to y’all later.

Good luck and Happy New Year








Colors Of My Life

th (27)I remember the first time I saw an airplane.

It was shiny in a blue sky.

I remember the first time I saw a school bus.

It was yellow on a dirt road.

I remember the first time I saw a deer.

It was brown in the woods.

I remember the first time a bee stung me.

It was red and flashing.

I remember the first time I saw a tornado.

It was going round and round….in greenish-yellow clouds.

What color is beautiful?
What color is beautiful?

I remember the time I saw my first child born.

It was glowing pink.

That’s all I could make out thru the tears and laughs….

It could have been diamonds, I guess…

I remember the first time I made love.

It was yellow, red, blue, black, white, and golden; with sparkles and heartbeats.

I remember the first time my Dad hit me.

It was black and purple mixed with red stripes.

I remember when my wife told me she wanted a divorce.

20130707_215110It was a dark blue….very, very dark.

It could have been hell, I guess.

I lived there for a while.

I remember the first time I went to Disney World.

It was gold and magical silver; loud with fireworks and screaming.

I remember the first time I saw John Wayne in real life….th (26)

He was as tall as the sky and walked funny.

I remember the first time I saw a dead person.

They were pale and the car was red.

It was also the first time I seen what “still” really was….

I remember the first time I saw a musical, it was “Carousel” I believe…

There were lots of cth (25)olors and sounds, jumping and fighting and one guy had a knife…

I remember the knife more than anything else…and the look in his eyes.

The knife was silver and flashed this way and that…

His eyes had blue murder in them….

Pretend murder; but I think he has done it before….It looked soo real.

I remember the first time I saw a movie.

It was Old Yeller.

Old Yeller and a wolf got into a fight!

Mothers screamed! Dad’s cursed! Children wailed!

I jumped up! The wolf has rabies!!!

Nooo! Get away you egg stealin’ dog!


The audience shrieked when Old Yeller got (24)


I cried when Travis had to shoot him.


I cried again after I read the damn book.

I didn’t know then that sometimes a movie can be like the book.


I remember the first time I saw a real mountain, the kind with clouds and ice on it.


I remember the first time I saw Texas.

I kept an eye out for red Injuns and tan Mexican bandits….

I remember the first time I went snow skiing.

The world was white, the clouds were light blue and the trees were blurry green; and got too close, too fast.

I remember the first time I went scuba diving.223108_106938416061545_5485854_n

Fish are very curious and they like to bite the hair on your arms and legs….

They follow you around like a piece of glistening silver toilet paper stuck to your foot.

I remember the first time I went to Starbucks and willingly paid $8 for a cup of Java.

Not coffee, mind you…they said it was called “Java”.

I told them that I thought Java was a computer programming language that is concurrent, class-based, object oriented, and specifically designed to have as few implementation dependencies as possible….

The blank stare told me that I was misinformed, evidently.

I could have made the same coffee for a $1 at the truck stop, but Starbucks has cool stuff and their coffee has groovy yuppie names, so….

What the hell, you only live once, right?

I remember the first time I wrote a story.

It was about a vengeful, ghost Indian that was protecting the Kolomoki burial mounds that are in my hometown.

I got a C….

Look at me now, Mrs. Salter….I’m a famous blogger!

I remember the first time I saw a (21)

It was bluish-white in a purple sky with little stars everywhere….

Hale Bop…1997

I don’t know why it kinda frightened me.

They say the ancient Egyptians seen it first, but I don’t believe a damn thing from anyone that worshipped cats…

I have seen time pass…

As of this moment I have seen 50 years, 1 month and 13 days…

Seems more like 26359200 minutes to me….and counting.

I remember the first time I saw a teacher burst into the classroom and say “President Reagan just got shot!”

Most of my classmates cheered.33

I didn’t…

The teachers face was white and my face was ash gray…

We both knew that the pinko Commie bastards would be coming soon…

I just wanted to share with y’all some colors, sounds and texture of my life.

I am sitting here in my truck waiting for the sun to come up.

I hope it is golden; that the sky is blue, the grass is green, the cows are fat and the cats don’t make it across the highway….

1932324_309383649233641_8456172728616011277_nBut, since I am in Los Angeles I’ll just hope that the smog is a lighter brown and doesn’t taste as bad as Trenton, NJ smells.

Thank you for your patronage…

It was golden.

“D” is for Dramatic


I am SO sick….

I can feel the blood scraping against the vessel walls in my brain.

I am so sick….

I have become the most productive snot factory on earth.

I am so sick that it hurts when I think I’m not that sick….

I am so sick that when I lay down I can hear my heart beat in the pillow.
Thump(echo echo) Thump(echo echo)

I am so sick I am contemplating suicide by Nyquil PM.

The Coughing, sneezing, so I can die in my sleep medicine….

I am so sick that I hope I drop a lung so I’ll quit coughing so much.

I am so sick that they will use virus cells from my dead carcass to cure Ebola and reanimate Elvis.

I can feel myself slipping away….

Goodbye cruel world!

Say goodbye to MA and PA and little Buffy….

It’s getting so dark….

Where is the light they keep talking about ?

Oh… I’m so cold…..

…… So cold

Hack! Hack! A choo!

I’m fading…..

Goodbye Aunt Fred and Uncle Sally, you gay bitches!

**Whispers next to my death bed** “He’s delirious”

Cough! Kack! Brrrrr!

I…feel…. Death coming…. Closer…

Go toward the light Carol Anne….

I….. Must make my peace with…

*cough cough cough *

Make my peace with….
Screw that, I’m freaking dying here people!

Goodbye WordPress people, I only knew you for a short time…

*cough cough cough Kack! *

Try and find a reason to go on without me…

Be strong…


*gurgle Kack bleecck Pfffftttt! *

“He’s dead Jim…. ”




Homicidal Maniac !

I woke up this morning and the sun was goneImage

I turned on some music to start my day

I realized I haven’t hooked up my XM satellite yet

And I became angry……

I needed some coffee.

I wanted some Intense Energy Colombian Sumatran with a dash of Hawaiian coffee, 32 packets of artificial sweetener, a squirt of French Vanilla and 4 serving thingees of Hazelnut creamer stuff.

The only thing standing in my way was 50 yards of big rig parking lot, a Wendy’s drive thru, 20 more yards of 4 wheeler parking lot, a front door and morning people….

Still in my Zombie mode, I proceed to the truck stop store.

[Zombie walking in your mind’s eye]

I got half way across the big rig lot, said a dirty word that would make my granny get religion, turned around…..went back to my truck to get my wallet and mug.

I got my mug.

I looked for my wallet for 10 minutes.

There was no telling where I put the damn thing.

I have just moved into my new truck and my stuff is still scattered and unorganized to my specification, superstitions and/or just wanting to know where my shit is….

My wallet was in my front pants pocket…..The ones I was wearing.

I don’t want to talk about that.

I got back out of my truck, and patted myself down to make sure I had everything….

Wallet: Check

Glasses: Check

Ear infection: Check


Son of a bitch!


I got the mug and made it thru the rain puddles, fuel spills and parking lots with no injury.

Have you ever noticed that when the wind blows into your ear while it’s infected it sounds like a sea shell with Tourettes?

I am fully aware that when I walk into a public place at 4 am that I tend to catch some people by surprise.

You see…I don’t look my best, and I could care less.Image

My hair is poking up, I am wearing my lucky BYU nite nite shirt, my lime green sweat pants (eat me) and my Navajo trading post water-proof moccasins that don’t really water-proof…..But they’re comfy and they look cool….

Besides the fact I don’t have to tie them…..

I think they’re girl moccasins now that I look at them closer….

Anyways….as I said, they’re comfy….and I like the beads.

As I said….eat me.

I mosey up to the coffee making area and begin the mixing of my desired ingredients for the ultimate Java download with extreme prejudice…

I am not fully conscious during this minute or two.Image

It’s all muscle memory….

I raise the mug to my lips….

“Good morning” says the truck stop barista woman.

The mug stops…..

My right eye twitches like Clint Eastwood in that one movie….

I blink…..

I lower the mug back onto the counter and said “What did you say?”

“How are you this morning?’ she says with a smile.

“Too early to tell” says I, looking around to see if anyone is watching us.

“I hear that!” she laughs.

She doesn’t know that I hate laughing in the morning before coffee.

She doesn’t know that before coffee and sweetener that I am a homicidal maniac.imagespsycho

But… is what it is.

She must die…..All morning happy people must die…..


With the speed of a mongoose on steroids I karate chop her in the throat.

She gags…

I head butt her in the face at the same time I kick her in the balls…

She reels from my violent onslaught, a silent scream trapped in her crushed windpipe

I spin thru the air with a Chuck Norris round-house kick, separating her laughing ass head from her body.Image

As her laughing ass head flies thru the air I give it a soccer style bicycle kick, sending it spinning and twirling, bending it like Beckham into the trash can by the coffee bar.


I whip out my 44 magnum revolver with the 7” barrel, the most powerful handgun in the world according to Clint Eastwood in that one movie, and start pumping rounds into the trash can!


I can still hear her laughing ass head in the trash can….harry

I begin to reload….

I blink…..

I take a sip from my mug.

“Good morning” says I.

That was weird….

Wow Is Me…


How can this be?
Two big zeroes preceded by a 3…
Im not that interesting
Or witty I agree
Why would anyone want to read anything written by me?
I find that I use grammar like an unwieldy axe
It doesn’t seem to matter though because my blog groupies always come back
They honor me with likes or a comment or two
“You are so talented, you big sexy guy you ”
I get embarrassed by all this lusty praise
I find that fame really sux despite the truth of it all and the questions raised…
” Will he keep being awesome and a stud muffin too? ”
I say “Yes, never fear, my minions of “wow” and “eww”
It’s a helluva thing to be equal to all of my hype!
Thus I promise to keep boring you with prose and type.

Thanks for following my stuff, 

Posted from WordPress by my Android by Treyzguy

Some Faves of Mine

I am posting these links to some favorite stories of mine for the new guys and gals that have honored me by following my blog….

Plus, I’m lazy tonight.

I hope y’all like them.

1) Sun Flyer

2) Toby

3) As My Pen Gently Weeps

4) Don’t I Know You?


Suicidal Thoughts: A Plea


Since I only got 4 likes yesterday for my post A Day In The Lifeless I considered taking my life.

When I was trying to decide which exit from this Land of WordPressia I would take, I ran into some difficulty.

1) Gun shot – I don’t have a license to carry a firearm and I’m allergic to lead.

2) Hanging – Swinging gives me motion sickness and I’ve never been good with knots.

3) High Jump from building and/or bridge – I am afraid of Heights, climbing stairs makes me tired, and the water is cold right now.

4) Overdose – How can you take that many pills and still use as directed? Discipline must be maintained. Plus, most drugs that are best for killing yourself are illegal.

5) Razor in a hot bath – Are you serious? I can’t even shave without holding my breath the whole time. I’m so cautious that I’m the only person I know that puts a tourniquet around my throat when I shave.

6) Head in Stove – I always end up cleaning the stove.

7) Carbon Monoxide – I get sick when I sit in a car too long.

8) Running into traffic – How can this succeed when you can only run into the street when the little blinking man on the pedestrian crossing flashes when traffic has already stopped?
a) Have you noticed that the blinking man is white…?

So, I can’t think of any other way to do myself.
Please prevent my suicide by “liking” all my posts and stroking my egos.
It is up to you.
My life is in your hands.
No pressure…. Really.

Posted from WordPress by my Android by Treyzguy

You Have GOT To Be Shitting Me!


In the immortal lyrics of the greatest song ever recorded by Brittany Spears…

“Oops, I did it again…”

Now it’s in your head!


Don’t you hate that?


I am sitting here at a Tyson foods plant in Hope, Arkansas waiting to be loaded with 20+ tons of genetically enhanced super chickens to export to the starving children in Russia and Saudi Arabia.

I decided that since I have some time to kill, I would try and think of a subject to write about and post it for your viewing pleasure.

I had no idea what I was going to write about.

As I went over the options in my clinically documented distorted sense of reality, I took my reading/typing glasses and sprayed them with lens cleaner.

Then, after a couple of squirts on my glasses I proceeded to point said spray bottle into my evidently stinky mouth and give the old tonsils and tongue a quick soaking!

The sacrifices I make for y’all……

“You DUMB-ASS, Why did we just do that?!” my mind screamed at me.

“AAcccckkkk!” my mouth screamed for real.


So….I started to spit……   All over my laptop keyboard and screen.

There is nothing nastier than lens cleaner in your pie hole.

Especially if you ARE a dumb-ass…..

Things are always intensified and nastier when you are a dumb-ass.
It doesn’t matter what brain fart occurs; When you’re a dumb-ass you deserve everything that happens to you.

Of course I start cussing myself and calling myself a DA, using language that would make Eskimos fuck, but it won’t change anything.

I’ll do something again….soon.

I now believe that I have DA abnormalities in my DNA.

I have sprayed my mouth TWICE in less than 2 weeks.

Check one of my earlier blogs over the last couple of weeks, I freaking wrote about it!

If I’m lying, I’m dyin’ “


God, that stuff is nasty.

I’m munching on Townhouse crackers trying to kill the taste.

Did you know that when you cross Townhouse crackers with Lens cleaner it reaches a whole other level of “Kaaack!”

I now have linoleum in my face.

Oh, and while I’m raising hell, I might as well broach another complaint. (Y’all know how I tend to ramble sometimes)

Hey…You in the den….Shut it!


Why do we men have so much hair on our backs?

When God made us, I assume it was him, how come he designed our arms too short and bent in a weird way so we can’t shave it?

I mean the top part of the back, across the shoulder blades.

Even when I tried to reach back there and shave, my back looked like a landing strip for drug planes in a jungle.

We can reach our butts….

Does that mean we should shave our tooshies?

It’s kinda weird the first time, but when you splash that Hai-Karate across your ass….then give it a couple of good slaps to promote follicle stimulation for future shavings and finish off with a low heat session from the blow drier…..

I think I saw God that day…

I’m not waxing shit!    I’m not gay…..

Well, I do love a great Vietnamese Pedicure…..Maybe, I’m just a little gay.


Oh….Don’t shave your….guys….you know what I’m saying.

Don’t shave….down there.

First off…….You HAVE to use a RAZOR.

Smearing the shaving cream all over your….thingee’s… a grand time no doubt. (I’m always tired after the smearing part for some reason and never get to the shaving end of it…Hmmmm)

Don’t put razors down there…..

It’s bad….

You know how you get that feeling in your knees and stomach when you’re standing on the edge of a precipice, or ‘high place’ for you fellow dumb-asses?

“Go ahead….Jump” You’re brain says.

What if you listen to your brain and jump?

What if the same thing happens while your shaving….your….you know?

“Have at it big boy! Off with their heads!” Your fucked up brain screams.

You start hacking and chopping, laughing and screaming like a maniac….Shaving cream and blood spraying and splashing all over the bathroom!

“What are you doing!?” Your wife screams from behind you.

You turn around and say….”Nuttin’ honey…”

But you saw it in your mind didn’t you?

You were gonna cut off your hoo ha’s weren’t you, you sick bastard!?

Don’t do it.

I swear to God you’ll regret it.

Doesn’t really matter though, after 10 years of marriage your wife will put them in a jar and sit them on the fireplace mantle where you can look at them any time you want to.

Mine keeps the goldfish in there too.

Looks like a couple of honky sea urchins.


Okay…It seems that a zesty dill pickle and a Cajun pickled egg kills the taste of lens cleaner….

Good to know…..Write it down dumb-asses.

You know who you are.

This is how you can tell:

You know before you do something particularly risky, some THING that you have done before, that there is an element of relapse capability.

And you do it anyway….

Like bopping yourself in the mouth when pulling off a sock or shoe. (Mines always a muddy boot for some reason)

Here’s my favorite:

Opening the freezer door and the big door on the fridge, bending down to get something in the lower part, stand back up and “CracK!!!”

Enter Dumb-ass Valhalla.

Wish I had a dollar for every sunza bitchin’ time…..

Oh…’s another:

Reaching for a boiling pot handle or sizzling frying pan, knowing you should grab a pot-holder, but saying “Fuck it, I’m only going to hold it for a second, I’m just moving it to the back burner…..”

I’m not even gonna say anything else…….

Are you Shitting me!?!


I just tipped over my pickle jar reaching for my soda mug…..


I can’t believe this is happening as I write this post about DUMB-ASS occurrences!!

I knew the dang lid was off, I knew I’d get another pickle out but……

I’m a plague….I’m a freaking carrier of dumb-ass.

I’m a menace!

I’m gonna kill myself…..

Posted from WordPress by my Android by Treyzguy

High Stakes Vulcan Mind Meld

There will be blood…..Image

We were all sitting around the supper table….my siblings, parents and I.

It was quiet.

You could taste the tension in the air.

It was go time and we all knew it.

The sheen of sweat glistening under the kitchen light on our faces, our eyes narrowed to slits as we evaluated each other and try to predict what levels each of us would sink to in our quest for the last piece of fried chicken.

A slight tinkle of silverware on my brother’s plate caused a brief distraction and several pairs of bouncing eyes glanced around for the source of the noise without taking their entire focus from the center plate holding the prize.

My dad stared across the table at my brother, his hands palms down on each side of his plate.,,,,Fingers drumming slowly.

My brother acted like nothing had happened and ignored the burning glare my dad was shooting at him.

“Nice try” my dad said, his eyes back on the chicken.

“What…?” said my stupid ass brother.

His words seemed to echo as the silence fell back into place and the hands free Vulcan mind melds began to reach out into the air above the chicken and start searching for breaks in each other’s psychic defenses.

“I’ll clean out the garage” my sister Sharon whispered.

Damn…..I was gonna use that one.

My dad kept his eyes on the chicken leg, its shiny crunchy skin glowing under the kitchen light, the slow spinning ceiling fan blade shadows making it look as if though it were still radiating smells.

The chicken leg spoke to me.

It said “I want it to be you eating me Trey”

I licked my lips.

It said “You’re the only one who understands me”

I swallowed….

It said “I want you to be the one who chews me up like I’m a DIRTY LITTLE BITCH THAT DESERVES TO BE EATEN!”

I took my hands off the table and adjusted my zipper.

Dang it was getting hot in here all of a sudden….

When I put my hands back on the table, I shook my head and cleared the pleas of immediate mastication by the chicken leg from my mind.

My eyes locked on my dad’s….Had he heard the chicken’s seduction attempts?

Did he know that the chicken wanted me to be the one….?

He answered my sister’s bargain bid without taking his eyes from mine…

“It’s not that dirty” he said.Image

Sharon received her denial without any outward appearance of rejection, but I could feel her mind scratching against my psychic wall, trying to sneak a peek at my strategy.

I thought up an image of me sitting on her belly and making her eat a bug.

Her mind rape intrusion stopped.

I grinned.

My mom noticed my grin and slipped a quick look at my sister, then at my dad.

My dad had seen the grin too and his eyes narrowed a little bit more.

My mom tried to reach out and touch my dad’s arm.

“Don’t touch me” he whispered.

Mom drew back her hand slowly…..then made her attempt….Just like she always does.

“Well, if everybody is thru eating I’ve got to clean off the table and get these dishes washed”

She reached for the plate with the prize on it, as if though it was the most natural thing in the world.

I kicked her chair out from under her legs and whipped a back handed karate chop against the bridge of her nose, cartilage cracking like a rifle shot, blood spewing like….blood spewing!

My baby sister Laura Beth pumped a couple of 12 gauge shotgun blasts into my mom’s body as it flew backwards thru the air like a broken Frisbee!

My little brother hurled silverware thru the air like angry bees, pin cushioning my mom’s butt.


Okay….that was awkward.


My dad broke the spell of mental murder fantasy imagery that had taken over.

“Fool us one time…..” he began to say.

Mom had pulled that crap on us years ago, and we had fallen for it.

We had found her sitting on the dark front porch later that evening wolfing down the prize of that night.

The last piece of cornbread….

Her shadow looked like a crack head bent over his pipe.Image

When I had turned on the porch light, she had spun around….her eyes wild, cornbread crumbs falling from her bared gnashing teeth.

She sprung from the small circle of light and headed for the barn, lurching and grunting like Mr. Hyde thru the dark streets of London, her cackling laughter trailing behind her as she disappeared into the trees.

We had trusted her up to that point.

The level of betrayal is still fresh in our memories.

What next?

Maybe the tooth fairy has more than a freaking quarter to leave under our pillow!

Maybe mom was skimming off the top and getting her end of it before we did!

We….just didn’t trust old mom anymore.

Besides….she had beady eyes.

“I’ll give you free rent on Park Place and Boardwalk” my treacherous bastard of a brother said.

My dad’s eye twitched…..He shot a quick look at my treacherous bastard brother.

Dad’s eyes were back on the chicken leg…He said “Throw in two railroads”

My treacherous bastard cheating ass brother Kenny studied our dad’s face.

Kenny looked at me and grinned with that treacherous bastard cheating ass mouth and said:

“It’s just bizness”

I looked at my other siblings.

Sharon was fingering her steak knife, looking at Kenny.

LB was fingering the salt shaker, looking at Kenny.

I was fingering my tea glass, looking at Kenny.

Kenny was fingering…..hell, I don’t know what the treacherous bastard was fingering..

My dad was fingering something out of his teeth with his pinky finger looking at Kenny.

Then….My spider sense kicked in!

Too late!!

Just as we all became linked to one another’s thought process, there was a crash and a whoosh as a dish went flying past our heads…..

Minus my chicken leg!

We all spun from the table, weapons ready.

She set us up!!!!Image

Mom crashed thru the front window, howling and cackling, her dark hair waving like a bats wings as she plummeted 12 feet to the ground below, never once slowing down.

We all rushed to the window and watched in utter horror as my mom sprouted wings and flew into the night sky, screaming like a banshee.


The terrible dying screams of a quickly masticated chicken leg echoing in our ears…..

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