Enjoy Life .... OT?

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Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 2, 2013 - 08:52pm PT
That's happiest beer I've ever seen, Larry.

;)



This kid makes me happy ... or as my friend would say: "Whacky things happen in the arms of this woman."

Credit: Leggs



~Enjoy Life ... Be kind, truly kind... and as Rumi would say ...
"We all face death in the end. But on the way, be careful never to hurt a human heart."

~peace
Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 3, 2013 - 09:55am PT
He has stolen my tender little heart ...
He has stolen my tender little heart ...
Credit: Leggs

~Enjoy Life
~peace
10b4me

climber
Jul 4, 2013 - 02:19pm PT
bump. this thread should always be on the first page
Dingus Milktoast

Gym climber
And every fool knows, a dog needs a home, and...
Jul 4, 2013 - 02:32pm PT
Thanks 10b4me... I LOVE THIS THREAD.

4th of JooLie, 1982, Troupeville trailer park, Valdosta Georgia, Opel maintenance:


Royce Musclewhite and Ron Linzie.

From my lawn chair sun tanning booth


And strictly for entertainment purposes and because I have been slacking here:

*

Many years ago I was a poor military-man bent on self-destruction. To that end I drank endless gallons of beer and hundreds of liters of distilled spirits, inhaled bales of cheap devil weed, played with chemicals and pursued illicit activities in the swamps of south Grorgia (like human gator baiting, what FUN!).

So to support this lifestyle I moved off base and inhabited a socially descending series of abodes (like The Runner! remember that story? And the Burt Lancaster movie???) that culminated (is that the right word for bottoming-out?) at the Troupeville Trailer Park.

Myself and two other lost souls rented a decrepit trailer-home for $300 bucks a month. The rest of our combined housing allowances went to keeping the bar and the stash stocked. It was a good deal while it lasted.

Troupeville Trailer Park was located, as you might guess, in Troupeville. Troupeville wasn't so much a town as it was a sh#t-stain of a toilet ring on the outskirts of Valdosta Georgia.

It makes sense, considering Valdosta (VAL - DAUSTA) is the as#@&%e of Georgia, eh?

So the trailer park was located on the banks of the Withlacoochee River. Actually it was smack dab on the flood plain, well inside the levees that protected the nearby farmlands from the placid river's winter rages.

The Withlacoochee feeds the Suwannee River I think, of the WAY DOWN UPON fame. We were WAY UP IT haha.

So of course we weren't the only losers in the Troupeville Trailer Park. It was positively FILLED with them. Being military men, we of course ignored the rest of these denizens of Hell, consigning them all to 'Bigger Losers than Us" cause we were serving our country (as we served ourselves).

Being government property and a confirmed water rat at the time (there ain't no cliffs anywhere near south Georgia, so I couldn't call myself 'climber' for a 3 year stretch) I liked to work on my tan. We'd often go swimming at nearby Blue Springs in north Florida, a beautiful water filled cave that gushed forth ice cold crystal clear water into the brown, opaque and tanic-acid laced Withlacoochee just down stream.



That's where we did the gator-baiting. The gators couldn't swim up into Blue Springs because the water was too cold, some 60 degrees. On a hot summer day, when the temps and the humidity were both in the high 90s, that water was heaven sent.

It was wide open too, Blue Springs, in those days. Located down a sandy dirt track deep in gator country, it attracted all sorts of locals, drunks, druggies, farmers, military folks, college kids; the works. You parked where you wanted, drank what you wanted and climbed trees to dive into the deep cold water.

Cave divers showed up on occasion to risk their lives in the extensive feeder system below - something they do to this day.

Anyway, you could float down the stream that spilled out of Blue Springs for a couple hundred yards till it merged with the Withlacoochee. Temp convergance being what it is, the cold snobby-clear Blue Springs water refused to mix with the warm brown tepid Withlacoochee for another coupla-untert feet.

It made (and continues to make I dare say) a wonderfully weird sight - a striped river, brown on one side, blue-clear on the other. You could actually float, and we frequently did, on the dividing line, one leg invisible in the warm brown water, the other in the crystral clear spring water.

I'd like to say indivisible too, but that wasn't strictly true. See, there were gators in that river; lots of them. If you knew what to look for, and I did of course, you could see their little beady eyes watching you like bullfrogs on a partially submerged log. They waited downstream too... for sleepy drunks who floated too far... always hungry, them gators.

Nub said he earned his name that way... though I never believed him. I met him at my dope dealers house. I asked, "Where's Joe?"

"Out back with Nub, choppin wood" his half-blind and always crabby mom answered in a 50-year cigarette rasp of a voice.

Out back I went and there was Nub, choppin wood with one hand while Joe looked on and offered the sage advice of the two-handed, a razor-sharp axe slicing through the humid air and into some sort of shingle scraps they'd done stole from somewhere. Joe's mom refused to buy heating oil in the winter - "We live in the South Goddamnit!" she reminded. So Joe and Nub were making some kindling for the fireplace.

I think Nub was workin off a drug debt, though they never told me. Good ole Nub.... never saw him again. I bet he's dead now.

ANYWAY, Troupeville, helluva place.

So I was laying on a folding lawn chair, the kind you use poolside, working on my tan, on the stinking flood plain of a south Georgia swamp. It was hot - boiling hot actually, and only about 11 AM. My roomates were drinking early.... hmmm. That's not quite right. It was Sunday morning as I recall. They'd started drinking that previous Friday night.

Fueled with chemicals they needed no sleep, so this particular weekend's drunk was now some 36-hours long. They were drinking LATE.

I'd given up the previous day because I'd had to work a Saturday shift at the base, and the drive through Valdosta and getting past the gate guards at the base demanded some semblance of sobriety.

So I was level-headed and clear-eyed that hot Sunday morning at the Troupeville Trailer park, working my tan and figuring to go the 10 miles to Blue Springs that afternoon when it truly started to get hot.

The trailers were all set back a ways from the sand track that served as a road snaking through the flood plain like a Water Moccassin sneaking up on an over-turned canoe.

I heard a commotion from near the road, two trailers down and across the road, as it were. This was quite a ways, flood plain land being cheap and all. At least 200 feet away, maybe more, I heard arguing and hollerin.

I looked up, my eyes sorta whited out by laying in the sun, you know how it gets. What with the sweat and all I couldn't see sh#t for a few seconds and I blinked at a most amazing sight.

This woman, this enormous woman, she had to be 250, maybe 300 pounds, was running as fast as she could, and amazingly, she was FAST. Maybe not John Bachar Happy Fire Maurice Green FAST, but sh#t, with my poorly mended broken ankle, no WAY I could run that fast these days; this enormous woman was high-tailing it across the trailer park.

She was bellowing murder too, screaming and hollerin like Hell's own hounds were hot on her heals. I sat up to get a better look. She musta seen the movement cause as soon as I did she veered in my direction.

This big fat trailer-park woman was wearing a dirty blue pair of those stretchy-capris K-Mart pants (this is before Walmart began its China-fueled march to global domination). They were stretched way too much for imagination and my word craft to impart - what with all the jiggling and sloshing around it was something that scarred me for life.

She also sported a dirty white T-shirt and as was an unavoidable truth, no bra. Her mammoth-like breasts were pendulously flappin up and down in there - double-chin to belly fat, in like rapid stamp-mill fashion. Could crush grapes under there, no prob.

No shoes, hair all out like some mad beast from hell, this woman was runnin STRAIGHT AT ME!!!111

And just as quickly, I discerned (being a trained military man mind you) the source of her terror.

This dude was chasin her.

He was maybe 50 feet behind her and running as fast as he could too. He wasn't fat either. On the contrary, he was shirtless and chiseled. Hell, he looked like he could run right through one of thoe trailers without opening a door, contine through the middle and come out the other side, without slowing or realizing something had been in the way.

He had on levis and work boots. His fists were balled up, his arms knotted and his eyes spoke of fury. He had murder in his eyes, I could see it immediately.

Had I the time to flash it back in reverse, as I would so luckily have the later opportunity to do... I would have seen the big fat woman burst forth from her trailer a few seconds prior, then this crazed soul of a man fly out the door a few seconds later in hot pursuit.

Clearly I was about to be in the middle of a domestic disturbance. A drunken domestic disturbance, it turned out.

The woman made a beeline for me, curved slightly around me, and she went right up the steps into the open door of our trailer and BANG! Slammed the door shut!

OUR trailer! No sooner had the door closed the man arrived. Holy sh#t, he really DID have murder in his eyes, crazed, bovine, drunken, irrational MURDER. A beating was surly in the offing, at the very least. This dude meant the giant fat woman some serious harm. I could easily see it as it was written in his very skin. He was gonna kill her, or nearly beat her to death, before his reason returned.

He looked like a construction worker. Hell, he may have even sported sawdust from the previous day's work, I can't remember. He wasn't washed either, I know that much.

But it looked as though he, like my roomates, had been drinking through the night. I'm guessing the early morning taunts of his drunken woman were too much to take and he was going to settle with her all Neanderthal-style and go caveman on her.

But his gyros weren't workin so well. Since he was hot on her trail and locked on like a man will do when chasing prey, he was coming STRAIGHT AT ME TOO. And because his fine motor skills weren't up to the ballerina-like veer ole fatty did to clear me.... he never even attempted to go around me.

By now my alarm bells were ringing for 4 companies of assistance. I needed help and I needed it fast. Trouble was, help was in the trailer and the only egress was blocked, stopped up with a giant fat woman in a T-shirt and dirty capris.

I stood to meet my doom, legs braced wide. I was an ex-football lineman and though never a brawler, I'd met some hard charges in my day. This one was going to knock my block off whether I liked it or not.

But to my amazement and everlasting relief, the hard-charging drunk pulled up short. He stopped directly in front of me, chest heaving, fists still knotted and ready for business.

It took some hindsight for me to understand why he did that. Now this may sound like spray but it isn't. This is exactly how it went down. See, I was in pretty good shape myself in those days. I was young, 22, and in the best shape of my life. I worked out every day and it showed.

While he cut an impressive figure in his work hardened, leather like skin, so too did I. I was taller than him and just as muscled. As drunk as he was, he didn't seem to relish the thought of going straight through me. Thank god. He probably would have killed me otherwise, taking his blind runnin fury out on me instead of his wife.

"This don't got nothin to do with you man!" He loudly heaved a warning. He stood there panting, too drunk I guess, to try to go around.

"Hold on man!" I replied with an authority I didn't feel. (I didn't use DUDE in those days, Califonia was still 4 long years off for me). "You can't be beatin your woman here."

It was weird. When he first arrived, rage clouded his every gesture. His eyes were mad with fury, literally stark raving mad; unfocused, unreasoning, insane.

But as he stood there panting I could see something, a spark of intelligence, a little hint of humanity and a cold, nearly feral like appraisal - he was sizing me up. Apparently he didn't like the calculations because he stood fast and repeated,

"This ain't got nothin to do with you man!" And his shoulders relaxed a bit, his fists relaxed to hands. Maybe I was going to live after all.

Then the tailer door opened up and the Big Bitch stuck her head out and commenced to swear and holler at him, the security of both me and an aluminum door bolstering her courage enough to taunt her tormenter. She shouted his name, but if I ever knew it its long forgotten.

"I'd like to see you git me NOW!" she challenged. Oh shit! The dude went into instant Pit Bull mode, fists ready, fury back on his brow, and he tried to dodge around me to get to her.

Unreasonably, I moved to block his path! Why the f*#k did I do that?

Well, for one reason, my girlfriend was in that trailer too, sleeping. So too was my roomate's. I'd like to say I did it for them, but the truth is it happened too fast for me to think about it at all. I'm not a violent person and I can't stand the thought of it really. I can't even watch that vid of Rodney King getting his beating, it makes my stomach turn.

Oh stylized pretend violence in King Fu movies, that don't bother me none. (damn, my southern is comin back). But real violence makes me sick and angry and I just wasn't going to let this dude beat up his woman in MY trailer.

He pulled up short and again that appraising look. He was reconsidering whether I was worth it or not.

"This don't got NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU MAN!" He bellowed in fury.

"I'm not gonna let you beat her up here man. I just can't do it. You can understand that, right? What kind of man would I be if I let that happen?" I tried reasoning with him.

And again his features relaxed. It seemed he could in fact understand that. I almost imagined a shrug, 'yeah I guess I CAN understand that.'

His hands relaxed once more. He hollered over my shoulder,

"It ain't f*#king RIGHT!!! I'll get you later you f*#kin BITCH!" But he turned to go!

And then the trailer door opened a crack again and the mad breast-flappin woman poked her big head out and again taunted him,

"You better get the f*#k out of here before he WHIPS YOUR ASS!" Holy sh#t, she was talking about ME!!!

Again he made a move for her, again the trailer door banged shut, again I blocked his path and (thankfully) again he pulled up short.

"GODDAMNIT!!!1!1111111" He screamed in fury. I could smell his drunken breath, holy sh#t could I smell it. Flecks of spittle hit me in the chest.

"I'm gonna kill her man, git outta my way!!!" I refused to budge. "You'll have to go through me man. I don't want this. Just leave!" I warned him.

Just then a car came zooming out of that other trailer parking area and bouncing up the sand track. It stopped out front of my place and the driver half stood in the door, hollerin for, hell, we'll call him Gerald for the lack of a better name.

"JERRY! Let's get the f*#k outta here! NOW!" There was a sense of urgency in this dude's voice and I could hear it. So too could Jerry I guess, cause he looked alternately from the door to me to the dude in the car, indecision now eating at him. Finally he turned to go.

So of course the banshee opened the door again and shouted,

"That's right you f*#kin little coward you better RUN before he whips your little ASS!"

Now I was furious. I shouted "Will you goddamnit SHUT THE F*#K UP!" at her. I was beginning to understand WHY he was gonna kill her - she was as drunk as he was and twice as stupid.

Again he made a move, again the trailer door banged shut and again I blocked his path. By this time my roomates were all gathered behind her to witness this entire standoff. They were horrified to be trapped in there by a drunken water buffalo of a stupid assed woman, but trapped they were. My girlfriend was peering out one of those little slit like trailer windows, waiting for me to get killed.

This time the fat woman didn't even wait very long - she opened the door and taunted him once more.

"I'm calling your parole officer Jerry! Right now! I'm usin their phone!"

This seemed to reach him in a way heretofore previous reason did not. He was now ready to leave. I'm thinkin, GREAT. A drunken ex-con is going to kill me because I'm stupid enough to try and stand him down in my own front yard.

"I'll get you bitch!" He warned. "YOUR BOYFRIEND WON'T BE HERE FOREVER!!!1111"

"He'll KICK YOUR ASS JERRY!"

Again he went for her, again the door banged shut... well you know the drill by now. I told him he damn well knew I wasn't her boyfriend.

By now his drunken driver buddy was frantic, having heard the magic words (parole officer) and near terror fringed his shouts,
"Jerry we GOT TO GO NOW!!!"

Finally Jerry turned once more to leave. He started toward the car. All this was like 2 minutes, maybe less. But finally he was leaving.

Again the woman taunted him, threatening him with jail and an ass beating. But this time he merely shouted back and kept walking. This went on for a couple of minutes more as he got to the car, hollered a few times he was going to kill her. His buddy literally stuffed him protesting into the car, got in and careemed down the sand track and out of the Troupeville Trailer Park, Jerry half-out the window shouting death threats into the distance.

It took us 15 minutes more to get the water buffalo to leave, as she clearly feared Jerry would be back. But finally she huffed off with nary a thanks for me saving her life. Now that her danger was gone she was back to being a sullen, drunken piece of trash and off she huffed.

We all conferred for like, THIRTY SECONDS and we too fled the trailer park, not wanting to be anywhere near the place when Jerry went and retrieved his stashed pistols and came back to settle things once and for all.

I moved out of there a week later. It was sort of a watershed moment in my life, truth be told. I realized my eventual fate, looking at Jerry that day. I couldn't avoid the sordid truth of my own life - you hang around trash you end up trash; or dead.

That little incident at the Troupeville Trailer Park changed my life - and perhaps saved it too.

I also came to understand in a visceral way, deep in the pit of my stomach and etched into my brain - how drunken fools end up killing one another over the most stupid bullsh#t.

I have little doubt - had Jerry been armed several people including myself, would have been killed that day. I was saved by my bulk and by my willingness to look madness in the eye and stand firm.

I was bolstered by the fact I knew in my bones, as I had previously frankly and a few times since, that I could STAND AND FACE the fall line. I wouldn't run.

A few times since, standing at the top of a death chute of a ski run, or nerviously biting my fingernails to the quick on some wall, or facing down a real mad bull in a field, or getting into a bar scrape... I wouldn't run and I wouldn't leave my buddies in a lurch.

All on the floodplain of the Withlacoochee River, down in south Georgia, in the Troupeville Trailer Park. I even wrote a paper about it in college - how to make Troupeville Wine. (Rum, whiskey, cold water, sugar and 4 scoops of Wylers Lemonade mix - burp!).

I was back a couple of years ago, amazingly and beyond all reason or prediction, in Valdosta on business. Curious as to the changes in a town over 20 years I rode around.

Blue Springs - I needed a map to find it! I could NOT tell one road from another. That blew me away and made me feel old. And Blue Springs is now a Florida State park thankfully.

And the Troupeville Trailer park is long gone, weeds and young cyprus trees where I once nearly lost my life to a drunken ex-con and his water buffalo woman.

True. Every motherf*#king word of it.

DMT

Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 4, 2013 - 02:53pm PT
As always, fantastic writing, Dingus ... the imagery ... the emotions, the drama, the heat... the realizations.

I moved out of there a week later. It was sort of a watershed moment in my life, truth be told. I realized my eventual fate, looking at Jerry that day. I couldn't avoid the sordid truth of my own life - you hang around trash you end up trash; or dead.

That little incident at the Troupeville Trailer Park changed my life - and perhaps saved it too.

I also came to understand in a visceral way, deep in the pit of my stomach and etched into my brain - how drunken fools end up killing one another over the most stupid bullsh#t.

I have little doubt - had Jerry been armed several people including myself, would have been killed that day. I was saved by my bulk and by my willingness to look madness in the eye and stand firm.

I was bolstered by the fact I knew in my bones, as I had previously frankly and a few times since, that I could STAND AND FACE the fall line. I wouldn't run.

~peace... leggies
Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 4, 2013 - 02:56pm PT
Enjoying my first day of vacation with Hood River Coffee, Feliza's Lighten Up Blend ... Thank you Mr. Hudon and Co.!

yummy
yummy
Credit: Leggs

~Enjoy Life

~peace



Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 4, 2013 - 04:34pm PT
Some AWESOME Tucson gals atop the "A" of A Mountain... Enjoying Life... and surviving the heat, I hope!
I love this!  Fun fact:  the  young lady in the red dress is the best ...
I love this! Fun fact: the young lady in the red dress is the best stage manager EVER.
Credit: Leggs


~peace
10b4me

climber
Jul 4, 2013 - 04:52pm PT
beautiful ladies celebrating the fourth in Tucson.
keep this thread on the front page.
Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 5, 2013 - 03:12pm PT
Oh wow... this warmed my heart to no end... esp thinking about my girl Corinne, who I cared for over a 6 year period, and how very very much I want to take her out into the wilderness... and esp the ocean.

http://www.upworthy.com/the-most-heartwarming-use-of-duct-tape-youll-ever-see


Corinne, paralyzed from the neck down since the age of 16, now 36, is a defense attorney and a huge inspiration in my life.
One of my fondest memories, besides going to Hawaii together, was getting her into a swimming pool, onto a floaty and seeing the wonder in her eyes as she experienced the joy of being surrounded by the beauty of water.

I still have the dream of getting her on a summit, and I will never give up on that.



~Enjoy Life
~peace
Marlow

Sport climber
OSLO
Jul 5, 2013 - 03:49pm PT
Waitin' on a Sunny Day
eKat

Trad climber
Less than a second shy of 49 minutes
Jul 5, 2013 - 03:56pm PT
LeggiesLeggiesLeggies!

I can't see very well right now. . . everything's all washy. . . more later, when this downpour stops!

TFPU!

oxoxoxo
Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 5, 2013 - 04:53pm PT
I love it Marlow... thanks for posting!!!


~Enjoy Life
~peace
Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 5, 2013 - 05:38pm PT
eKateKateKatarinaBallerina!!

It's been raining here too!!! THANK GOD!!! We had plans to squeeze the Lemmon today for my second attempt at leading a climb, but alas, the much needed rain changed our plans. However, I'm hoping the rain has helped containment of the Prison Camp fire lower down on the mountain.

Tomorrow, there's no stoppin' us!

I adore you, sista!!



Ohhhhhhhh hey.... I got my very own crash pad.... which thrills me to no end!

I always stand like this.  &#40;no lie&#41;     <br/>
;&#41;
I always stand like this. (no lie)
;)
Credit: Leggs
Grawsome.
Grawsome.
Credit: Leggs

~Enjoy Life
~peace
Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 5, 2013 - 06:08pm PT
Ohhhhh my gooooooodness! (I've NEVER looked better) (phppfff!)





Photo by Mr. Bee
Photo by Mr. Bee
Credit: Leggs



~Laugh as much as you can ... and embrace the day.
~peace
Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 5, 2013 - 06:24pm PT
Sullly... that is a fantastic photo... I love the colors and the contents inside... your description makes me quite hungry! *thank you*

Enjoying life in that my mom sent me home with scores of jars bearing the plum jam she makes every year. This round she added the perfect amount of sugar.

My parents planted the tree back in 1957 to honor a baby my mom lost, seven months into a pregnancy. They named her the same name you have, Leggs. My parents had five kids after that.

Thank you for sharing your words, Sullly ... thank you so much. I am sorry for your parents loss, and happy they continued forward to create and nurture the beautiful family you are a part of today... and the beautiful woman, friend and mother that you are.

~much love... always.
10b4me

climber
Jul 5, 2013 - 11:13pm PT
photo not found
Missing photo ID#309805
Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 6, 2013 - 01:25am PT
It's all about the rain, right Leggs?

Well yes ... and magic hair that can predict rain!

(Looking at the video... I should have taken Jeff up on his offer of soap!)


Pickle and I
Pickle and I
Credit: Leggs
Damn, I love this young man.


~Enjoy Life... Enjoy Love ... don't take life and love for granted.
~peace
Dingus Milktoast

Gym climber
And every fool knows, a dog needs a home, and...
Jul 6, 2013 - 10:05am PT
What's a Moke All O Me?

Kaity asked me that question as she waded into the swift running cold green bottom-of-the-reservoir water.


I told her the answer was obvious if she looked at the river bottom.


As she gazed into the emerald river? The Moke got her!


Now I think she understood.


Oh she got it all right...


Then it was ON!


2 Mokes on the river bottom are worth less than


2 Mokes in hand


Get your booty down into this water, NOW! She commanded.



Nothing doing kid no Mokeolumne!


DMT
Leggs

Sport climber
Tucson, AZ
Topic Author's Reply - Jul 6, 2013 - 01:00pm PT
Hahahhahahahhahahaa!! Ohhhh Craig!

Those photos of Kaity are all about her eyes and hands...
her hands tell the story at first... and then those eyes... those eyes burning a loving hole right into you for f*#king with her!

Love it! Thanks for posting!


Sometimes... Pickle let's me kiss him on the cheek.  SOMETIMES.    <br/>
 ...
Sometimes... Pickle let's me kiss him on the cheek. SOMETIMES.

;)
Credit: Leggs
Credit: Leggs
My heart... The Pickle
My heart... The Pickle
Credit: Leggs
Credit: Leggs
Credit: Leggs
Photo by Mr. Bee
Photo by Mr. Bee
Credit: Leggs


We are gonna go squeeze the Lemmon ... after one more cup of joe!


~Today is a new day... embrace it... Enjoy Life
~peace
Gal

Trad climber
a semi lucid consciousness
Jul 6, 2013 - 01:02pm PT
Hey there Miss Leggs ~ I'm rooting for you on your lead climb ~ you've got it, have fun :-) !!!!
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