Fanta Se

Jul. 9th, 2011 02:25 pm
purejuice: (macondo)

Driving south from Santa Fe last night in the dusk, the Las Conchas flames were visible in the mountains, perhaps 30 miles to the west, and rain falling on the Sandia Mountains, perhaps 30 miles to the east.

There's been no rain here since October.

We're now in the so-called monsoon season and there has still been no rain. Sez on TV somewhere that you have to have humidity of 47 per cent for three days in a row for rain clouds to release their rain. Right.

We went up for an art opening. Canyon Road is all art gallery, all old adobes built right up on the narrow sidewalks of a narrow two lane street.

Art very bad.

Crowds walking from gallery to gallery in the street with their plastic cups of plonk.

Somewhat edgier than the average Burque crowd, but with more of a too-tan, a-little-too-buzzed-out, Marbella-Eurotrash/LA A-gay/Miami narco princess/vibe actually than -- the rest of the world. If I were a bettin' man, I'd wager there were some very decadent rich hippie things going on in Santa Fe but nothing very interesting.

Dinner at an incredibly pretentious and reasonably good restaurant named Geronimo. Yes, they did scalp us.

But the drive back through the dusk, under the big dry sky, with the rain far away to the left and the fire and smoke far away to the right, with the juniper bushes outlined high on the mesas against the bright cobalt blue night sky, was something else. The small and craggy Ortiz mountains are part of the same geological event that formed the Rockies. Behind them, the Sandias are not. Through the little 18th century towns like Algodones (pop. 688) along the benison of the river. Where, at last, there are little adobe houses under big old cottonwoods, their leaves trembling and turning on their specially prehensile stems, glimmering in the moonlight.
purejuice: (macondo)
The city of Los Alamos (pop. 11, 909, though estimates have the lab employing 12,000) has been evacuated.

That odd color is not caused by your computer. It is the quality of smoke-filled light.

Officials assure us the fissionable materials are well secured as a skeleton staff of security guards patrols the smoke-filled and deserted parameters. And as we know, the spokesmodels for nuclear sites always are first with the accurate information about nuclear threat to the neighborhood.

From today's Macondo Manana [TILDE!!!!]:

Wildfire Rages Along LANL Boundaries

Nuclear Materials, Explosives Secured

Read more... )

You'll be relieved to know that Gobernadora Suzi Quesodecrema has said she cannot ban the sale of fireworks for your enjoyment on Big Bang day. Happy fourth.
purejuice: (macondo)
News from this week's Macondo Ayer, the hippie-dippie paper:
LANL: Nuclear material not in danger from wildfire
By Marisa Demarco
Lab officials assured that radioactive materials are being protected from the almost 50,000-acre Las Conchas fire.
The fire has closed in on Los Alamos National Laboratory property—within a mile—but hasn’t reached the lab yet.
Spokesperson Kevin Roark said in an interview with the Alibi that there are a variety of nuclear facilities at LANL and several metric tons of uranium, plutonium, americium and others. These materials are kept in the most secure facilities at the lab, he said—deep inside vaults within concrete and steel buildings. “There is no threat from wildland fires,” he said.
During the Cerro Grande fire eleven years ago, the blaze ate up 7,500 acres of LANL property, Roark added, and there was no release of nuclear or hazardous material.
The Cerro Grande fire raged for more than a month in 2000, burned Bandelier National Monument and left 400 people in Los Alamos without homes.
There were concerns after the fire about the airborne release of contaminants, but Roark says monitoring showed that Cerro Grande was no more or less radioactive than any forest fire. Read a full assessment of the aftermath by the Concerned Citizens for Nuclear Safety and the Nuclear Policy Project.
The fire also caused erosion and runoff, and contaminants threatened the Rio Grande. But Roark assures: “There were not appreciable levels of radioactivity in the runoff.” After the Cerro Grande fire, LANL installed structures to prevent heavy runoff in the future, he added.
Comparing the two fires to try and predict impact is highly speculative, he pointed out. “The [Los Conchas] fire has not reached lab property.”
purejuice: (macondo)
Who knew?

I got to read these elm washerwoman naughty bits (and more!) from Finnegan's Wake with my new BFF R, who read the stone washerwoman part:

First she let her hair fal and down it flussed to her feet its
teviots winding coils. Then, mothernaked, she sampood herself
with galawater and fraguant pistania mud, wupper and lauar,
from crown to sole. Next she greesed the groove of her keel,
warthes and wears and mole and itcher, with antifouling butter-
scatch and turfentide and serpenthyme and with leafmould she
ushered round prunella isles and eslats dun, quincecunct, allover
her little mary. Peeld gold of waxwork her jellybelly and her

- 207 -
grains of incense anguille bronze. And after that she wove a gar-
land for her hair. She pleated it. She plaited it. Of meadowgrass
and riverflags, the bulrush and waterweed, and of fallen griefs of
weeping willow. Then she made her bracelets and her anklets
and her armlets and a jetty amulet for necklace of clicking cobbles
and pattering pebbles and rumbledown rubble, richmond and
rehr, of Irish rhunerhinerstones and shellmarble bangles. That
done, a dawk of smut to her airy ey, Annushka Lutetiavitch
Pufflovah, and the lellipos cream to her lippeleens and the pick
of the paintbox for her pommettes, from strawbirry reds to
extra violates, and she sendred her boudeloire maids to His
Affluence, Ciliegia Grande and Kirschie Real, the two chirsines,
with respecks from his missus, seepy and sewery, and a request
might she passe of him for a minnikin. A call to pay and light a
taper, in Brie-on-Arrosa, back in a sprizzling. The cock striking
mine, the stalls bridely sign, there's Zambosy waiting for Me!
She said she wouldn't be half her length away. Then, then, as
soon as the lump his back was turned, with her mealiebag slang
over her shulder, Anna Livia, oysterface, forth of her bassein
purejuice: (macondo)
Smoke Engulfs the City from the Wildfires 200 Miles Away
It's very spicy. People have been warned to shut the windows, turn off the swamp coolers, and stay indoors. The "air-dried" laundry smells like a slab of mesquite-grilled ribs.
purejuice: (macondo)
I was trying not to be annoyed by the In Plain Sight crew who has taken over and blocked off our street and my driveway, offered me $75 to park their shit in my driveway (which I passed on), and installed a Port a Potty within uh spitting distance of the Rancho Atomico's front door under my neighbor's, the Hispano -American Princess', eaves, no doubt for remuneration. An outhouse right by the front door, excellent.

Port A Potty Within 10 Feet of My Front Door

I was trying not to be annoyed because when the transformer blew up last night, depriving the hood of electricity, all my neighbors met on the sidewalk and a couple of the crew members appeared and my neighbors were happy to see them and M invited them all to have lunch in her courtyard and Mrs. Roper invited them over for happy hour tonight and said I can't wait to see Mary tomorrow, in an apparent reference to the star of the show who -- never mind. My neighbors were really happy about it and I decided I didn't need to be so fuckin' grouchy all the time.

Then I had to tell the security guard to move his car from the entrance to the driveway so I could go out to eat dinner since there was no electricity at the Rancho.

Looking North
Looking north.

So today I emerge at noon to collect my garbage can, which has disappeared. The street is full of movieass vehicles. I ask a passing crew member where is my garbage can, and he, holding a plastic bowl full of spring mix salad, which he's eating as he strolls down the street, says, Oh do you want it now? I said, Where. Is. It. He said, oh, I moved them all down there so the garbage guy could pick them up since we were closing off the street. Do you want it back now? I said no.

Charming Techie and Movieass Trucks Looking South
Looking south.

Then he said, You want something to eat?

Then I got pissed again. Two bribes and one Portapotty in 24 hours. Feh.

Garbage Accumulates
Garbage accumulates as we enter the 12th hour of occupation and the driveway remains partially blocked.
purejuice: (thelma)
The horror of New Thought church services out here in Californication is, as I've said before, the jazz hands, the amplified music, the drums, the capri length cargo pants, the middle-aged man wearing a backwards newsboy cap to play the drums, to one whose practice really is entirely Calvinist, silent Quaker meeting style, no cushions on the handmade 300-year-old pews, be still and know that I am God, a few austere hymns.

The good news is the Manhattan trained female co-minister says, How 'bout that rapture? We're all still here. Either we didn't make the cut. Or this is heaven.
purejuice: (macondo)
Body Parts Cases At Standstill

APD Says It Can’t Show That Felony Was Committed

Copyright © 2011 Albuquerque Journal

By Olivier Uyttebrouck

Journal Staff Writer
A year after seven human heads turned up at a Kansas medical waste facility — sent special delivery from Albuquerquebased Bio Care Southwest — both criminal and civil cases against the nonprofit’s founder have stalled.

Albuquerque police arrested Bio Care President Paul Montano, 32, of Los Lunas on charges of felony fraud just days after the gruesome discovery of heads, torsos and other human body parts in plastic containers at a Stericycle plant in Kansas City in March 2010. Police alleged that Montano had defrauded families who had donated bodies to the firm under contracts with Bio Care.Read more... )
purejuice: (KWRK)
Yesterday and today worked on curriculum for community journalism program KWRK is mounting. I couldn't understand why every one they named as potential customers for the class were all hippie dippie pinko progressives, and all the issues were peace rallies, the homeless, and the espaldas mojadas. I kept saying it's not news. Can't we have a value neutral community journalism gene pool? Finally I realized they keep pushing a progressive agenda not just because they're communists, but because literally the mainstream media here do not cover demonstrations of 20,000 people. Asked why, the assignment editors of the local TV stations say, to a man, It's not my demographic. A Columbia Journalism Review article rating local media found ABQ's in last place.

So dang. Anyway, today I gave them the names ranks and serial numbers of people who would make superb community journalists given a flip cam and a little training:
  • state wide public health nurses, who are everywhere and know everything as they, unlike doctors, make house calls and may be the coolest people on the planet
  • school board members state wide, ditto
  • the League of Women Voters, who are pretty much spin free, watch the legislature like vultures, and are always looking for the Next Big Thing
  • every name and contact info of the Indian health care bureaucracy, who like the public health nurses know everything and are everywhere
  • and the board of the local Theravada Buddhist wat, which is the social welfare center for all things Southeast Asian, including folk medicine, divination, shamanist contacts, and the secret reason Asian immigrants get ahead: tong tinsetc..

I need to give them my colcha embroidery listserv contact as they're much interested in penetrating the closed and shy and haughty Hispano community which has been here since like 1514. The colcha embroidery woman gave me a business card which has her name on it, and the phrase, 16th generation New Mexican underneath it. They're huge racists and hemophiliacs and conversos and penitentes, fabulous in every way.

Today I'm doing digital searchable notes on the journalism textbook recommended by my ancient friend who is now a j school professor. God it's boring.

I also made sublime baked custard out of homegrown eggs that Mrs. Roper's daughter gave me. Mrs. Roper is having her knees replaced and her daughter, who lives at Macondo's ground zero in the untouched south valley by the Rio Grande in an adobe built by her husband's grandpa that none of us are allowed to visit (I suspect some medicinal herbs might be growing in the back yard), leaving Mr. Roper, who is an old Okie with dementia they still let drive his truck around and drink beer, to fend for himself. So we all pitched in and cooked for Mr. Roper and his daughter and son-in-law, who are keeping Mr. Roper company.

The baked custard is God's own eats and really is the only thing you should do with homegrown eggs. Their yolks are orange and like three inches high. Yum.


Mar. 9th, 2011 02:45 pm
purejuice: (macondo)
So today's headlines in the Juice News have been No, OMG OMG OMG and WTF. Which brings us to this. Sorry to spam you but I guess it's one of those days.

I joined the Obama machine (OFA) remessaging committee for New Mexico, thinking the Dems had finally seen the light and were going to craft a progressive Powell/Luntz memo for the 21st century.

Just got an email from the imperial wizard. The agenda for the next remessaging meeting is writing down soundbites from Michael Moore's speech in Madison to be used during neighborhood canvassing.

The world has gone mad.
purejuice: (macondo)
Today was the coldest day in the history of Albuquerque.

The governor and the mayor have declared states of emergency.

There isn't enough natural gas in the whole state to heat everyone who needs it. We have been asked to turn our thermos down 10 degrees and not to use unnecessary electric appliances. I have turned down the thermo but I'll be damned if I'm turning off the oven. Having had fish for breakfast and spinach for lunch I'm by God having oatmeal fucking cookies for dinner. With clementines. If 10,000 little vaquero chillen have to freeze.

There are hundreds of closures.

It was a mere -7 this morning as I awaited the Navajo Geeky Gurl for our appointment in the car. With the heat on.

It was no biggie. 'Cause I'm from D.C.. Where it's a hundred in the summer and zero in the winter and e'rry day is a bad hair day.

What is this world coming to when these bad hombres are crying like little girls?

Suck it up and bake some cookies, little man. )

Oatmeal Cookies for Dinner on the Coldest Day in Burque History

You know you want to.
purejuice: (macondo)
An email from the New Mexico Archaeological Society:

The New Mexico Book Co-op Announces the 100 BEST NEW MEXICO BOOKS

After a year of voting, the 100 Best New Mexico Books were announced in time for the New Mexico Centennial in 2012. Leading the list is “Bless Me, Ultima” by Rudolfo Anaya as the #1 Best New Mexico Book.



Bless Me, Ultima — Rudolfo Anaya
A Thief of Time — Tony Hillerman
Ben Hur — Lew Wallace
Death Comes for the Archbishop — Willa Cather
First Blood — David Morrell
House Made of Dawn — N. Scott Momaday
Lamy of Santa Fe — Paul Horgan
Milagro Beanfield War — John Nichols
Red Sky at Morning — Richard Bradford
The Rounders — Max Evans

The Other 90 )

This reminds me of that Onion headline in the parody of the smalltown newspaper, oh, let's call it The Macondo Manana [TILDE!!!]:

Two Macondo Women Injured
Air-Lifted to Hospital in Guam
Tourists Visiting Tokyo In 'Satisfactory' Condition
Tsunami Decimates Japan, 300,000 Japanese Dead
purejuice: (macondo)
Here is the deal with Macondo.

I arise and read this story, which has a six column headline at the top of the page of the Macondo Manana [TILDE!!!!]:

Mystery Firm Based in N.M.: Security Contractor Ordered Out of Afghanistan )

Given the presence of Los Alamos, and the nukes "hidden" inside the Manzano Mountains, White Sands Missile Range, Kirtland Air Force Base, the Large Array Telescope (don't tell me it's not a spy rig), and the weird pride Burque feels at being Ground Zero (are you joking? the WTC put the lie to that), the presence of 12th-rate Beltway Banditti like the Four Horsemen, which seems to be based in Roswell, NM, the center and omphalos of all UFO conspiracy theories, does not surprise me. There is a sense that out here, far away from streetlights, you can do anything you want to. See the stars. See stars. Whatevs.

The thing about Macondo is all of that, ie., buccaneer schemes to rip the Indians off of their DNA/plutonium, or designate entire hospitals/medical institutions as single carrier health insurance gulags, or to sell all the water rights of the Rio Grande to Texas, such that you don't own the rain water which falls on your roof, is contrasted, in a magical realist way, with 1500 year old urbanities and arts.

The copy shop didn't take plastic for the $4 fee I ran up yesterday, so they said, Oh, you'll come back, we trust you.

On my way over there this morning with the $4, the latest evidence. A big old white SUV with KCOE CHANNEL 13 emblazoned on the side in red letters two feet high.

At the Great Metropolitan Daily, they got rid of company cars with GREAT METROPOLITAN DAILY emblazoned on the side nearly 50 years ago. During the MLK Jr. assassination riots. When such vehicles were stoned, if not capsized, by rioters.

It's just so bush league, and also suicidal, as well as so Not Kansas any more. There are no riots in Macondo. Not least because the thugs run the place.

All the black people in Burque are frighteningly respectable, totally Beaver Cleaver, either descended from the railroad workers (ca. turn of 20th c.) or the post-Civil-War freedmen of the Buffalo Soldier ilk who founded little towns out here in don't-fence-me-in territory.

And then you get swept away by the Navajo blue arch over the shitty highway just at the point where the vista toward the blue Sandias opens out of the shitty strip mall. It matches the mountains' skyline and color perfectly. Lift thine eyes! It's magic, the desert. For real.
purejuice: (macondo)
Here are today's headlines in the Macondo Manana [TILDE!]:

Locksley Video Long Gone
In which the UNM football coach, ordered anger management training last year after assaulting an assistant, shows up in the local sports bar with 16 undercoaches and threatens the sports columnist for the student paper for writing a column on the Lobos' recent 72-0 defeat. Security video of the confrontation taken by the bar mysteriously disappears.

A Maloof at home -- on TV
The local beer distributorship heiress, featured in a 5-column color photo, will star as one of the real housewives of Beverly Hills, along with the former Mrs. Kelsey Grammer and other luminaries.

Alleged Cop Shooter to Get Jail Pass
A suspected drug dealer who shot a cop in the groin is given a one-day furlough from jail to attend his brother's funeral.

Ex-LANL Scientist Accused of Spying
The FBI snags a dangerous 75-year-old criminal, accused by an Albuquerque federal grand jury of conspiring with an FBI agent to sell nukes to Venezuela (Hugo Chavez says it's a CIA plot to discredit him), to create an explosion over New York City to disable its electric power, and other bat cave projects. In graf 16, it is noted he was fired from Los Alamos National Laboratory 22 years ago. In graf 21, it acknowledges that there was no reason for an investigation to be started except for Batgeezer's contact with the FBI plant.
purejuice: (Default)
I took a two-day Word 2007 class at the Macondo Chamber of Commerce Thursday and Friday. Class, 15 middle-aged to old people, with say, 390 actual teeth among us. The most toothless was actually the savviest, and, of course, the least likely to be hired. So when [personal profile] villagecharm reports that NC is cutting Medicaid dental care for the poor, it is truly the knell of permanent joblessness and under-employment for the toothless.

The woman to my right had taken a computer class 20 years prevously and walked out when it ordered her to "cut and paste". "How the hell am I going to do that," she said, accusingly. Now she says she has a computer at home but it's not hooked up to the internet. I don't email , she says. She and the Tea Bagger in front of me started talking about how everything started to go downhill in the 60s, and computers are the devil's work they hoped would go away. As one lady was black and the other white, I kind of bugged out.

The teacher was of course Hispano -- it is the Hispano We-Are-Not-Wabs-We-Are-Castilians Chamber of Commerce, Hispano having an explicit meaning here in Macondo, including the Buena Vista Social Club acoustic guitar music on the website -- and very very good with his crew of maniacs.

There is a moment in life where you realize that you're not the prettiest girl in the room any more -- both bad news and good. There are, however places where you remain the prettiest and the smartest -- one is at the opera, and the other is in computer training classes at the Macondo Chamber of Commerce. It's a beautiful new colonial-style adobe building in the old Hispano part of town, with balconies, overlooking adobe bungalows overgrown with trumpet vines and palo fences, cats and pigeons flickering in and out of the shadows, and men in big white campesino cowboy hats. Proper office wear for the Macondo Chamber of Commerce women (as opposed to anglo offices such as the Vast Mammography Factory, where cargo capris, hiking sandals and tank tops are what the medical receptionists all wear to work) is a skirt, and stilettoes of the hardcore fuck-me variety, not just 6-inch tacones, but peep-toe, pompoms, red and with straps.

I had a leaden lunch of tamales and delicious curandera iced herb tea at the venerable Barelas Coffee House across the street -- I must avoid the tamales -- where a newborn baby was drinking formula (?!?) with three generations of mamis around the figured Formica table.

Came home to discover the mountain of what [profile] panjianlien calls "urbanite" had been removed, along with the junk juniper and Spanish broom bush two stories high which, according to Mr. B. cannot be trimmed back into a nice looking small bush. So all the concrete is out of the yard, most of the overgrowth. What remains of demo is the river rock, which made the place hideous and unwalkable and which, with the concrete, was killing the trees.

I am feeling very happy after a really stormy period.
purejuice: (Default)
Everything from the extraordinary form-conferring violence under a big empty sky, to the lack of security at the prison which permitted Bonnie to throw a pair of wirecutters over the fence, to the ARIZONA tatt bannered across Clyde's chest in the creepy photograph of his capture taken by the US Marshalls -- a war trophy photograph moving into the Abu Ghraib/Khmer Rouge trophy shot aesthetic of terror/cut ears on a string place -- to the fugitives allegedly thinking of themselves as movie stars, to their movement throughout this big empty space to Colorado and Wyoming -- to the name of the trailer park town, Jake's Corner, AZ, where Clyde's mother allegedly conspired to help the gang, to the chest-beating of the AZ troopies, it's all Macondo, baby.

I feel so at home.

I hasten to add that as a professional critic of war and genocide art who has read an execrable 500 page PhD. thesis on the Pulitzer-Prize-winning Kim Phuc/Nick Ut/napalm girl photograph, were I a newspaper editor? Not only would I not hesitate, I would, uh, kill, to print this photograph in my newspaper. The Macondo Manana [TILDE!!!!] has it on the inside, page 7, abutted with a pic of Clyde's victims. Interesting choice.

I think I'ma get me a Jake's Corner tramp stamp.

Huge Headline in Today's Macondo Manana [TILDE!!!] )
purejuice: (Default)
Socorro (pop. 8,879) is a 16th century town founded by the conquistadores at the north end of the jornada del muerto. It is by the Rio Grande, and the Indians who used to live there offered them succour, food and water.

Its 16th century suburb, across highway 81, is San Antonio, a tiny farm town whose population is "hard to pin down." It is the town nearest the White Sands Missile Range -- about 12 miles -- where the first atomic bomb was exploded. It's where you stay on the one day of the year when ground zero is open to the public. It's the place where no one was told that the bomb was going to be set off. Windows were broken, clouds of radioactivity engulfed San Antonio, but no one was evacuated. Its other claim to fame is the green chili cheeseburger at the Buckhorn, which beat down Bobby Flay's p***y version -- pickled red onions? mi culo -- on Bobby Flay's own TV throwdown.

This weekend, the corrupt Hispano patrons of the Socorro electric cooperative were extirpated. The atomic age, the chili cheeseburger throwdown, modernity may have come to Socorro County, but the 16th century lingers on. )

The inherited caudilloship, the generations of corruption, the wage like four times the state average, the staff twice what is needed, the kleptocratic dirty tricks, all this can only be described as Torquemada Baroque.

Poder al pueblo.
purejuice: (Default)
I've been derelict on my Macondo posts lately, though there have been many stories I flagged for the file.

My new BFF, the CEO of KWRK, is foaming-at-the-mouth mad at the former Mayor, Marty Chavez. For beating his wife. For driving a highway through Petroglyphs national monument to access property owned by him, and, I believe, Domenici, which would otherwise be undevelopable. For peddling himself as an hidalgo descendent of the vicious Spanish colonial Onate, who was sent back to Spain IN CHAINS, thunders the CEO, for chopping off the feet of all the Acoma pueblo Indian men for one teeny little uprising. S, the CEO, claims that Chavez lobbied unsuccessfully for 10 years to have a statue of himself and/or Onate erected at public expense -- and finally succeeded in getting a bronze conquistador on a horse erected in front of the art museum with Mayor Marty's own face implanted. Mayor Marty was calling it a statue of Onate -- WHO WAS SENT BACK TO SPAIN IN CHAINS -- but the city council wouldn't let him label it such. So it's just a conquistador with Marty's face on it.

Very Macondo, very megalo fascist art, actually -- I'm thinking of the victory arches Saddam had made from a cast of his right arm, holding a sword. Probably the kitschiest -- with the possible exception of the human skin lamp shade -- artifact of fascist art there is. (Fascist art and kitsch have many interfaces worth pondering.)

This piece from the ABQ Journal touches on several Macondo themes, among them that caudillismo and hidalgo pendejismo are not limited to the politicians. It extends to any number of Taos/Fanta Se institutions and indeed the whole Fanta Se phenom is very, very Macondo. In this case the wannabee hidalgo pendejos are not the Sons of Onate but the Daughters of O'Keeffe, herself a bit of a poseur. Her legatees are fixing to chop feet because, you know, Dios y mi derecho. Old times there are not forgotten.

O'Keeffe Museum Savages O'Keeffe Elementary School Kindergartners )

Onate's Foot and the Revenge of the Acoma )
purejuice: (Default)
She stars on page one of yesterday's ABQ Journal as the number one fan of Belen's champion high school football team.

I think she may have painted both the sign and the halfback. She asked me the other day if I thought it looked like a turkey, and I said no.

Meanwhile, on the field on a glittery fall afternoon this week, as Belen readied for its game with Aztec, senior wide receiver Pasqual Armijo said his grandfather, also named Pasqual Armijo, played on the 1963 unbeaten Belen team.

“That team was pretty tough,” Armijo said. “It would be an honor if we are able to pass them because they set the foundation for Belen football.”

Eagle Pride: This Story Pretty Much Kills Me )


purejuice: (Default)

January 2012



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