I’ll Admit it…I Have No Intention of Voting Today

This morning, I woke up to a ton of helpful reminders to vote today.  My only answer could be ‘no.’

I’d like to say I have some deep political reason for failing to vote. I’d like to say I’m protesting a corrupt system, unfair campaign practices and voter misinformation.

In reality, I’m not voting because of Primetime television.

Every show I see about politics or Washington has the same theme. Backbiting politicians buying votes with the money they get from whatever lobbyists are financing their careers. I mean, what the hell is the point of voting when Olivia Pope can just rig the machines and then blow up an office building full of people to cover up the crime?


I really need to stop watching so much TV.

Here in Florida, the race for Governor is taking center stage, with Charlie Crist and Rick Scott leading the way. For the past few months, I’ve been barraged with media messages telling me how evil they both are. If I vote for Charlie Crist, he’ll take away my job. If I vote for Rick Scott, he’ll burn down a college while eating a live puppy.

I have no opinion on either candidate, except to say that Charlie Crist looks exactly like a photo negative. What’s up with that?

Charlie Crist, the only man on the planet who looks relatively normal when you hit “invert image colors” in Photoshop.

Charlie Crist, the only man on the planet who looks relatively normal when you hit “invert image colors” in Photoshop.


I am plagued by equal parts apathy and cynicism. Whenever I’m forced to leave the house, I have to ask myself “is this worth putting on my shoes for?” Fritos and beer gets put firmly in the yes column, while midterm elections sit strictly in the ‘no’. Unless, of course, they’re giving away Fritos and beer.

My natural Gen-X apathy makes it impossible to make a decision unless there is some kind of immediate benefit to me. What can I say? My generation is inherently selfish.

On top of that, after watching about $100 million worth of ads with nothing but mud slinging and exaggeration, I don’t count on either candidate to tell me the truth. Look, I know the governor is an important guy, but I highly doubt he’s directly responsible for hundreds of thousands of people losing their jobs. Tax breaks and big business incentives only take us so far. After twenty years of surplus, we’re in a recession. It happens and I don’t think the big issues can be blamed on one dude.

There’s even a pretty big issue on the ballot today. It’s Florida’s initiative for medical marijuana. Amendment 2, for all you actual voters out there.  Some believe that it could even sway the election by getting supporters of legalized marijuana to the polling place.

They didn’t consider the Catch 22. The fact is, you’re counting on pot smokers to actually DO something. Have you ever been into a polling place while high? It’s scary as hell. There’s cops EVERYWHERE.

I mean, it’s not like I’m going to quit smoking pot if it stays illegal. Hell, even if they make it legal, I still won’t leave the house to get the prescription. Unless someone opens a dispensary in my living room, I’ll stick to shady midnight drug deals, thank you very much. Less paperwork.

Yes, I am fully aware that I’m part of the problem. I should be more grateful for living in a democratic society, where every voice is heard. The problem with every voice is that once everyone starts yelling, it all turns into a giant jumbled mess where you can’t decipher any one voice from another.

Am I doing anything worse than one of those people who show up to vote, after learning no information about the candidates or policies? You know the kind of people who vote for the handsomest candidate, or the one with the funniest name? There was a reason the Dick Swett kept getting elected in New Hampshire, and it wasn’t his politics.

If anything, I’m doing all you actual voters a favor. By keeping my completely uninformed opinion to myself, I’m making your vote matter more. I’m thinning out the pool.

You’re welcome, America.

Facebook – An Exercise in Rejection

If you follow me on Facebook, chances are you’ll notice a huge discrepancy between my Facebook friend page and my Facebook fan page. My fan page stays steady in the upper six hundreds, while my friend page sits at around the 130s.

The thing is, fans are easier than friends. Fans rarely get offended by anything I write or take it personally. Meanwhile, every time I post a new post on my friend page, everyone who remotely fits the bill assumes I’m talking about them… and unfriends me.


This is upsetting to me, because I rarely ‘friend’ people on Facebook. I actually have a policy about Facebook friend requests. In order to accept one or send one, I require that I have either met you in person once in my life, or have had several email conversations with you.

I don’t accept random friend requests from people I don’t know. These people include;

  • People who friend me randomly in the hopes of beefing up their ‘friend’ lists
  • Weird dudes who go through all my pictures and then send me creepy messages telling me I’m sexy
  • Scam artists

So my friend list sat in the 130s for some time. Fans are easier. Fans just ‘fan’ my page and I don’t have to reciprocate in any way. That’s kind of how I like my Facebook page. I love my fan page, but I hate my friend page.

Sometimes it seems to me that my friend page is nothing more than an exercise in rejection.

I get unfriended pretty regularly. Usually, it’s by some uptight person who has become offended by one of my status updates and/or blog posts. The thing that really annoys me about these people is, they knew exactly who I was when we did the whole ‘friend’ thing in the first place. I’m not the kind of person who is obnoxious online, but a saint in real life. I can assure you all, if you met me in person, you would find me equally as annoying and inappropriate.

If you don’t like me that much, you probably shouldn’t be friending me on Facebook, because I have no intention of changing to please you.

I also get friend requests rejected on a regular basis. Yeah, I know, it’s strange because I’m such a gem to know. I usually only send a friend request to someone that I have communicated with several times. I’m not the kind of chick who sends these things out willy nilly.

The last few times it happened, it was with people I communicated with on a regular basis. I thought we were friendly, but apparently, we can only be friends when we’re ‘secret friends.’ It’s fine to send emails back and forth now and then, but suddenly, if they’re expected to publicly acknowledge me, I get radio silence.

Here’s the deal. If you’re somehow ashamed of knowing me, then I have made a mistake in having any contact with you in the first place. This is because I’m a normal human being with healthy self esteem. You don’t get to treat me like you’re better than me, because you’re not.

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. I live by that creed for a reason and that’s because it made me who I am today.

I’ve made a life out of sharing my obnoxious opinion, writing inappropriate things, and tolerating bullshit from no one. No joke, I get paid for this shit. So when I find out someone I talk to is a spineless little jellyfish, who’s afraid of putting their ‘reputation’ on the line by knowing me, that makes me send an angry email or two. It also makes me retract that ‘friend request’ like a yo-yo.

I save my friend requests for people who are actually my friends. Yes, I know it’s misleading. I know I’m supposed to friend everyone under the god damn sun to prove how popular I am, but that’s not how I work.

So to clarify;

  • If we’ve never met or communicated in any way, you’re not my friend
  • If you know me, don’t like me, but decided to friend me because that’s what all the cool kids were doing, you’re not my friend.
  • If you know me, like me, but are afraid to admit to your friends that you like me, you’re not my friend. People, I ditched that shit in grade school. There will be no ‘secret friends’. I’ve written eight fucking books. I’m a best selling author and 2000 people read the bullshit I write in my free time every day. You’re doing me no favor by knowing me. In fact, you’re lucky to know me. So again, not my friend.

I suffer no self esteem issues. I don’t particularly care if I have 90 friends or 3000 by the time I die. The real friends I have know I’m a good person. I generally don’t mean to offend, but chances are, if you got offended, there’s a decent shot you deserved to be offended.

Don’t waste your time. If you don’t like me that much, nothing I write on Facebook is going to make you like me more. If you talk to me regularly, but can’t handle a friend request, know that I already think I’m better than you and your reputation is shot with me anyway.

I’ll save those friend requests for real friends. The rest of you can stick to my fan page if you feel the need to cyber stalk me.

Oh, and regardless of who you are, stop poking me! I don’t even know what that means.





I’m Not “All About the Base” – Let’s Stop the Girl on Girl Hate

I’m tired of people accusing me of ‘stealing their culture’ simply because I’m nothing more than a white girl with a big ass. Look, black people, brown people and any other people…you didn’t invent big asses. You know who invented big asses? Saturated fats and the girls that love them.


The first time I realized that I had a big ass was when I was 12 years old. I was at a rec center dance, when a high school boy looked at me, smiled and said ‘baby got back’. I had no idea what the hell he meant. At the time, I thought he was talking about my friend Kelly’s back brace. She had scoliosis. I thought he was making fun of her, so I kicked him in the nut sack.

I’m pretty sure his left testicle still hasn’t come back down.

I’ve always had a big ass and I’ve never had a problem with that. Even when I was young, and very heavy, I looked in a mirror and still thought I was pretty. To me, the world was more than the way I looked. I guess that comes from being a very smart person with extremely supportive parents. I’ve never really been ashamed of my body and I’ve never really felt the need to make other girls feel bad about themselves.

I hear a lot about body shame. I hear a lot of girls claim that they’re insecure because they’re too skinny, too fat, oddly shaped, whatever. Then, I hear them blame those insecurities on men.

Ladies, that’s bullshit. It isn’t about being fat or thin. It isn’t about being pear shaped or hourglass. It’s about you stopping all this girl on girl hate and knowing that cutting other chicks down doesn’t somehow make you better.

I used to have this friend named Susan. Initially, I thought she was a nice chick.  Then, I slowly started to realize that she was a manipulative bitch. It started out slowly, with her cutting down everything about me. “Oh, your arms flap a little when you wave, like my grandma’s,” or “you have great skin, but you should really consider getting a nose job.”

At first, I thought she was being helpful. See, as an extremely secure person, it takes me a long time to understand that I’m being insulted. I didn’t even understand why she would insult me. After all, I’d always been nice to her.

Here’s the real deal. At one time in her life, Susan was a beauty queen in her own eyes. Over the years, after a couple of kids and a few depressing incidents, she’d put on a couple of pounds. She no longer got the daily flattery that she used to from men. When we went out together, while I got drinks bought for me and phone numbers handed to me, she got ignored. That made her pissy.

I didn’t understand why. She already had it all. She had a great house, a great career, a couple of kids that were pretty awesome and a handsome husband who loved her. I didn’t understand why a few dirt bags, handing me their numbers pissed her off so much.

Then I realized she was suffering from ‘female competition syndrome’. This is a syndrome that some women suffer from, where they put all their value on their looks, and choose to cut down women who are ‘winning’ in order to make themselves feel better.

The ironic thing was I always thought Susan was beautiful. She had great hair, beautiful eyes and a wonderful smile. I kind of wished I looked like her. That was, until I saw how ugly she was on the inside.

Her own low self esteem made her choose to participate in some serious girl on girl hate. Every secret I’d ever shared with her got shared with everyone else and I learned that her biggest hobby was talking about me behind my back.

I’ve been hurt a lot in my life. I had a middle school bully who berated me every day on the bus for six months. I have a dad who ignores me and a baby’s daddy who left me. Every time I post a new blog post, I’m getting at least one piece of hate mail. I can personally guarantee I’ll get an email calling me a fat bitch by midnight tonight.

Out of all those times, the only time I’ve really been hurt was when I found out what Susan was really like. That was painful. It wasn’t painful because she didn’t like the way I looked or even the way I acted. It was painful because she was someone I thought I could trust, when it turned out, she was just using everything she knew about me to get attention, so she could make herself feel better.

Ladies, it isn’t ‘all about the base’. You don’t need to ‘have back’. The fact is, as women, we decide the beauty trends. We decide what’s beautiful. Most men are just standing around, with their limp dicks in their hands, waiting for the next thing to masturbate to.

Men aren’t giving us body issues. We’re giving each other body issues with this nonstop competition. It’s not enough to say “it’s ok to be chubby” instead, we say “it’s better to be chubby and all you skinny girls can suck it, because we can’t validate ourselves without putting someone else down.”

This girl on girl hate needs to stop. We don’t choose our body types. I didn’t develop a big ass to annoy black girls. I was born this way. You don’t get to pick your body type. Instead, you live with it. But insulting other girls who are different from you, whether they be thin or thick, isn’t empowering. Instead, it just makes us ALL look like insecure bitches.

So here’s a suggestion. Accept who you are without feeling the need to put anyone else down. There is no one perfect shape. Different strokes for different folks and all that. Stop ‘skinny shaming’ or ‘fat shaming’ every girl who is different from you and concentrate on yourself. It isn’t about race and it isn’t about weight. It’s about self acceptance.

Deal with it without being a cunt.

How to Give a Movie Recommendation – or WWEBD?

My brother is a pro at giving movie recommendations. This is because he has good taste and he’s not an idiot. Let me give you an example of the last time he gave me a movie recommendation.


Brother – Hey, you know what you should watch? Zero Dark Thirty.

Me – ok

Brother – <Hangs up the phone>


That’s it. He doesn’t give me an entire goddamn summary of the movie.  He doesn’t try to reenact a scene. He just says “I think you’ll like this” and lets it go.

Believe it or not, a lot of you fuckers don’t seem to have this skill. For some reason, you see something you like in a movie and then immediately think “hey, you know what? My buddy Essa would like this. I’m going to give her a call and provide her with a long, rambling, barely coherent description of the scene. That way, when she eventually sees this movie, all the fun will be completely sucked out of it for her.”

The earliest I can remember this happening was with the movie “Dude, Where’s My Car?” The scene in question was a scene that most people find hilarious, where the two guys are trying to order at a drive through and the cashier won’t let them finish. Most people crack up when they watch this scene. Not me. It has been forever ruined thanks to one idiot named Eric.

See, Eric is one of those people who is under the mistaken impression that he’s hilarious, when he’s really not. That was just fine with me… right up until he gave the below description of the drive through scene.

“Oh god, it was so hilarious. You really have to see it. The first guy was trying to order food and the lady at the register… no, wait, it was a drive through… the lady as the drive through was all like “and then?” And the guy, he just kept ordering more stuff. Or maybe it was his friend ordering more stuff? <Starts cracking up hysterically like he is the very embodiment of George Carlin> And then, the lady was like ‘and then’ again and the guy was getting madder and madder, but she just kept saying ‘and then’ over and over again…<goes on for another 10 minutes, saying ‘and then’ in a very poor Asian accent>”

Nothing about the above description is remotely funny. It removes all humor from the scene by removing all instances of comedic timing, voice inflection and character reaction. When I watched it in the theater later on, as everyone laughed their asses off around me, I sat there, blank look on my face, without cracking a smile.

To top it off, Eric was with me (yes, he considered “Dude, Where’s My Car?” enough of a cinematic masterpiece to see it twice in the theater.) When the scene came up, I could feel him looking at me repeatedly to see if I was laughing too.

That’s another one of my pet peeves when watching a movie with someone, especially someone who has given me the recommendation in the first place.  Stop watching me to see my reaction and watch the goddamn movie instead. You peaking over every 12 seconds, as you chuckle hysterically, trying to make sure I see the hilarity of whatever piece of shit you recommended to me, is distracting and annoying.

Even worse is when someone keeps telling you about a movie or TV show that you have no desire to watch at all. Again, take a page out of my brother’s book on this one.


Brother – Hey Essa, you know what show you’d probably like? Banshee.

Me – I did enjoy it briefly, but found the sex scenes exploitive and unnecessary

Brother – <hangs up the phone>


What can I say? My brother is a busy motherfucker. He also knows, because I have already indicated this is a program I would not enjoy, that he does not need to spend 45 minutes trying to convince me by summarizing the entire plotline. He doesn’t give a shit. He suggested it and let it go. It’s not like he has a vested interest in whether or not I watch “Banshee.” He doesn’t have money riding on it. He’s not getting kickbacks from the show. He just knows what I like, offered the recommendation, and moved on.

Now, let’s try this again with my buddy Eric.


Eric – Hey Essa, you know what show you’d like? Wilfred.

Me – I have attempted to watch the show, but did not enjoy it.

Eric – But you’d love it! It’s really your kind of humor. See, there’s this guy, and he’s bipolar. Or maybe he’s depressed? Hold on, let me IMDB it. <Five minutes of frustrated clicking> Yeah, he’s depressed. Anyway, his neighbor has this dog, but the depressed guy, he thinks it’s just a man wearing a dog costume and…

Me – <hangs up the phone>


When giving a recommendation, whether it be for TV or movies, take a page out of my brother’s book. Ask yourself “WWEBD” or “What would Essa’s brother do?” Hell, I even made a flowchart to help.


What I don’t need is you describing scenes or summarizing the plotline. I have the internet for that, and those people actually know what they’re doing. Your bumbling attempts to garner my interest are actually making me less interested.

I’m usually pretty good at picking out my own shows. I’m a bit of a movie buff and a professional movie reviewer to boot. I know what I like and I don’t need your help. But if you absolutely must make a movie recommendation to me, ask yourself ‘WWEBD?” beforehand to avoid pissing me off.

Science is the Closest Thing to Magic… Not Facebook Chain Posts

Magic is something that has appealed to people for centuries, simply because it has the potential to give us something for nothing. Want to make money? Buy this stupid bag of rocks. Want to fall in love? Here, drink this snake oil. Everything you want will come to you; all your dreams will come true, as long as you’re willing to pay the low, low price of $9.95 to buy these magic rocks on Etsy.


I bring this up because I woke up to a Facebook stream FULL of images from people forwarding chain posts. I checked my email and found a few more forwarded emails telling me if I sent them to all my friends, I’d be a millionaire by nightfall.

To all my chain mail forwarding friends, I’m going to explain the evolution of a chain email one more time. Hopefully, if I do it in children’s story form, someone will catch on.


Once upon a time in the land of Nigeria,

A scam artist wanted to spread his scam like bacteria

The problem he had, which he had to resolve

Was finding a way to get his email contacts to evolve


As a poor northern boy, with very few friends

He didn’t have the contacts to meet his evil ends

He needed a way to get emails enmass

Without wasting time or wasting his gas


So he came up with a plan on how to begin

His potential victims would do the gathering for him

He wrote up a letter, promising fortune and fame

And in the ‘BCC’ hid his very own name


They need not send money or do any work

They just had to press a button and act like a jerk

Sending the message to everyone they knew

And getting their friends to do it too


Each time ‘forward to all’ was clicked by a fool

The scammer had his own new email harvest tool

Soon his new contacts were filled to the brim

And he knew it was time for the real scamming to begin


As cute as this story is, I’m not making it up. That’s where chain mail really came from. It came from scammers who hid their email addresses in your BCC, so when you hit forward to all, they would get all your friends’ active emails as well. Then, they earned themselves a huge database of people they could send scam letters to…all because some idiot apparently thinks chain mail is magic.

If there is any kind of magic in the world, it comes from science. Hell, if someone mailed an iPhone to 1864, I’m pretty sure it would get burned as a witch. Science is magic, but people don’t invest half the amount of time in it because you have to work for the magic of science.

It’s not something that comes from pressing ‘forward, forward, forward’ on every piece of junk that pops up in your timeline. If those messages worked, just about every fucktard on the planet would be married to the love of their life, sitting on a giant pile of money. They’re not. They‘re broke, lonely, and sitting at home pressing ‘forward’.

And they’re giving all their friend’s emails to scammers.  I’m sure there are people out there who are like ‘well, I only do it as a goof’ or ‘just in case’. Let me explain this. There is no ‘just in case.’ Scientifically, forwarding that email has a 0.000000000% chance of making you rich.

The reason I have to change my email every four years or so is because of this. It’s because through no fault of my own, I wind up on some fucking scammer’s email list… thanks to someone sending me chain mail. Then, my email gets sold to another scammer, and another, and another, until my email is so flooded with announcements that I’ve won the lottery, a free iPad or an inheritance from some relative I didn’t know I had that I need to shut it down and start all over again.

I have 5 different email addresses right now for this very reason.

But what about Facebook? That’s not forwarding chain mail, right?

Right. Instead you’re giving them Facebook friends to harvest and making the chain mail originator’s page look legitimate, thanks to all your ‘shares’ and ‘likes’. In my opinion, that’s just as bad.

People, you want magic, look to science. You want to make your life better, do something about it. Leave the house, meet people, find a better job. But don’t sit around expecting to get something for nothing. That doesn’t happen.

Unless you’re a scam artist looking to get hundreds of emails for free. That happens all the time.



Giving Thanks – A Lesson in Gratitude

I don’t know if you could all tell this from my posts, but I’m a very negative person. I’m not negative in that annoying ‘oh, my life is so bad’ kind of way. Instead, I find myself often being negative simply for the purpose of being amusing. If there is one life lesson I can pass on, it’s this;

If you’re going to bitch, at least make it funny.

As a massive cynic, I find myself complaining about just about everything. I have no right to. My life is good. I get paid to do what I love, have a lot of friends that tolerate me no matter how many times I drunk and text them, and a supportive family of enablers who will happily allow me to drink and smoke myself to death. I have a kick ass Wi-Fi connection, an unlimited weed supply, and access to a completely free, completely streaming porn site.

So why the hell do I complain so much? It’s time to start being grateful for things. That is why I give you, in no particular order, the things I am grateful for everyday.

#1 Minivans

I have a theory about minivans. I think if you get the lowest possible score on the driving test at the DMV (while still passing) they automatically assign you a minivan. This is so the rest of the world will know what a terrible fucking driver you are.

Whenever I see some asshole doing 35 in the fast lane, with their left blinker on the whole fucking time, they are in a minivan. Something about these vehicles was designed to say to the public at large “pass as quickly as possible, in the breakdown lane if you have to. The driver of this stupid looking vehicle is guaranteed to hit something in the next five minutes.”

So thank you minivan manufacturers, for telling us which drivers truly are idiots before we find out the hard way.

#2  The phrase ‘no offense intended.”

I love this phrase, because it lets you say whatever you want! Then, if the person gets offended, they’re the one who’s the asshole. Here’s an example;

Girlfriend: My mother invited us to brunch this weekend.

Boyfriend: I don’t want to go.

Girlfriend: Why?

Boyfriend: No offense intended, but your mother is a fat whore.

See how easy that is? I don’t know who invented the phrase ‘no offense intended’, but I’m grateful. I’m also sure whoever it was, they were a massive asshole… no offense intended.

#3 Foreign content writers

As a freelance writer, I often find myself competing for jobs with people who bid $10.00 for ten 500 word articles. People who need writers will contract with these guys to save money. The funny thing is, these people never consider the fact that to make a living, someone would have to churn out like 50 of these a day. They always make excuses, like “oh, the cost of living is lower in (insert country client usually knows nothing about). That’s why they can charge so little.”

That’s not why. The reason they can charge so little is because they can write an article in about 25 seconds. Let me show you how.

Step 1 – Google the topic. For today’s purposes, my topic is ‘ass warts’

google screen shot

Step 2 – Pick the first article that comes up and copy it, word for word.

Anal warts (also called “condyloma acuminata”) are a condition that affects the area around and inside the anus. They may also affect the skin of the genital area. They first appear as tiny spots or growths, perhaps as small as the head of a pin, and may grow quite large and cover the entire anal area. Usually, they do not cause pain or discomfort to afflicted individuals and patients may be unaware that the warts are present. Some patients will experience symptoms, such as itching, bleeding, mucus discharge and/or a feeling of a lump or mass in the anal area.

Step 3 – Slap it in a spinner with no regards to the end product at all.

Butt-centric warts (likewise called “condyloma acuminata”) are a condition that influences the zone around and inside the rear-end. They might likewise influence the skin of the genital range. They first show up as modest spots or developments, maybe as little as the leader of a pin, and may develop huge and spread the whole butt-centric territory. Typically, they don’t result in agony or uneasiness to tormented people and patients may be unconscious that the warts are available. A few patients will encounter side effects, for example, tingling, dying, bodily fluid release and/or an inclination of a knot or mass in the butt-centric territory.

Step 4 – Deliver article and ignore all angry emails from the client. After all, what are they going to do? Sue you for $10?

Now, was that butt-centric or what?

So why am I grateful for these dudes? They’re making me rich! After the client gets all these terrible articles, they need to pay someone to fix the damage. This is where I come in and charge a butt-load (or anal-cargo, for you spinners) more to fix it.

There we go. A few of the things I’m grateful for every day. For all you minivan driving foreign content writers out there, no offense intended, but your idiocy is actually making my life better.

Linked In – Social Media for the High Plains Drifter

I finally got around to doing my Linked In profile today. For about 4 months there, it was nothing but a black hole that I used as a harvest ground for my Saturday night ritual of sending drunk emails to old friends.


Click here to follow me on LinkedIn…if you dare.

But I hear it’s good for business stuff like communication, networking, and um…synergy? Synergy is a business word, right?

Fine, whatever, I’m using it as another platform with which to stalk my exes and see how much more successful they are than me. Happy now?

I’ve been putting it off for awhile now because I didn’t have any business appropriate pictures (you know, without weed in them) and filling out the information is boring as fuck. That’s why I only filled out my current job position, and said before that I was a high plains drifter for 32 years.   Darn those midlife career changes!

When I was reading on how to fill out the profile, it suggested approaching the profile in the same way that you would approach your job or a project. So I did the bare minimum. I’m a very literal person. When someone told me that I needed to dress for the job I wanted, I dressed up as a space pirate.

I regret nothing.

But for someone like me, who is incapable of taking anything seriously, the Linked In profile can be an intimidating experience. On the upside, if I can’t make business contacts to boost my career, I can always fall back on being a high plains drifter.





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