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LiveJournal for Tootie Tull.

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Monday, November 8th, 2004

Subject:here we go again
Time:2:37 pm.
Mood: depressed.
Well, I have decided to quit my job as the bouncer at a bar and go back on the road with Flatulina as her road manager. I have to build up my tolerance again for her massive gastric output, but she is a good friend once she lets down from being a celebrity. Plus I'm hoping she can use her connections at Fabulation records to help me get somewhere with my songwriting. You would think having a dad like Jethro Tull would give me some advantage, but we don't really talk much, so that is of no help.

So here are two songs I wrote recently. I thought I would post them:

words and music by Tootie Tull

On a dark Sunday
Cutting out coupons
Need a sharp blade

Twenty five cents off
Charmin Charmin
Need a sharp blade

I’m running running running running
Running with scissors
Point up? point down! point up? point down!
Running with scissors [safety scissors]
I run with my scissors!

words and music by Tootie Tull
Alone and tortured
Agony looming
I must release this pain

See the puppy
On the floor
I kick it again and again

Puppy kicker Puppy kicker
Kick it and kick it some more
Puppy kicker Puppy kicker
Stuffing all over the floor
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Saturday, April 10th, 2004

Subject:good bye for now!
Time:8:47 am.
Mood: cranky.
Hi guys,
We were almost on the plane. ALMOST on our way home... I could just feel the sensation of a nice fresh tattoo being applied, gosh I miss those... and THEN it happened. flatulina heard this awful music coming from the other side of the Zamibian airport and started walking toward it like a zombie... a gassy pink tiara-wearing zombie.

Yadda yadda yadda...

We ended up all having to postpone our trips back to the U.S. to stay in Molvania of all places. If being in Antarctica for an ungodly amount of time weren't bad enough with all of the frostbite and sub-zero temperatures, then having to go to Lesbia where the sound of power tools is deafening and plaid flannel flows like a river, then enduring Zamibia, land of strange fruit and weirder hygiene practices... if all of that weren't bad enough, we had to top it off with an impromptu trip to Molvania - the land untouched by modern dentistry... or modern anything for that matter. I don't get paid enough for this.

But I do have to say, I can see why Flatulina loves it. I mean these people are used to bad smells, and they all pass gas freely, it's expected. To them, Flatulina is just fine and dandy. No gas masks, no air filters, no plugged noses, no supressed giggles. And the "f" word isn't even in their vocabulary. But you often hear the phrase: Sprufki Doh Craszko? which means "what's that smell?" Not that they are offended by bad smells, they don't even know what GOOD smells are apparently, they're just asking out of curiosity.

So anyway, Flatulina bought a "house" here, if you can call it that. And thank goodness I am free to leave now, she's going to stay. I've talked to the managers at Ruby Tuesday's in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and I think I'm going back to my old job as a bouncer there for a while. I need to decompress from this grueling tour.

So I guess... abadee abadee abadee, that's all folks! [I'm not funny. Goth people aren't supposed to be are they? I need to look it up in my handbook.]

Comments: Add Your Own.

Friday, January 2nd, 2004

Subject:work work work
Time:8:42 am.
Mood: depressed.
Well, I haven't told Flatulina yet, but the record label and her management are booking early dates in Lesbia, and since the concert schedule here is pretty much finished, they want us on the road pronto. I can't even begin to think about how much work it's going to take to pack up all of the gear and transport it back to the car.

First of all, we each have to take a dog sled to the car, and since the temperatures here are so unspeakably cold we literally have to wear the fish baggies. I mean, each member of the fish choir is put in a baggie, and then we wear them inside of our clothing so that our body heat keeps the water and fish from freezing.

We experimented with hooking some sort of device up to make use of the "heat" that Flatulina generates, but it never really worked, so this was what we ended up doing. I just know I'm going to have to take at least 3 of the fish myself. I mean, L'Monjello can't wear all of the fish, and then there's Flatulina's assistant, and then Flatch. It is so not goth to be on a dog sled, bundled up in gortex, with fish baggies inside of your clothing. But then again, this gig isn't exactly a goth gig.

Anyway, I hear we won't be able to get on the internet while we are in Lesbia or Zamibia, so that actually let's me off the hook from making these journal entries like Flatulina wants me to.

So, I guess that is all. Bye for now.

Oh, Flatulina just told me to post that it was Alan's fingernails that he mailed to her for Christmas. Whatever.

Comments: Add Your Own.

Friday, December 26th, 2003

Time:6:53 pm.
Mood: blah.
Well, I cannot believe that some DJ tried to warn Flatulina that I was after her money. I mean, if he really knew me, my deepest goth inner workings, he would know that is not at all what motivates me to be Flatulina's friend. Just hearing that put me into a funk and I had to eat a whole bag of twizzlers just to get rid of the self-loathing. There is one thing and one thing alone that makes me get out of bed each day, feeding my addictions. Nothing will ever take the place of that.

My current dilemma is: I am running out of tattoos and I don't know what to do. I mean, I try to be careful in the shower so they last longer, but 5 days is really pushing it if you want it to look fresh and solid. Why didn't I bring more tattoos with me? We weren't supposed to be in Antarctica for this long, but thanks to L'Monjello's coma it pushed us back and Flatulina decided she wanted to stay for the holidays. I think it won't be long before we will drive back to Tasmania through the super secret tunnel and then do the next leg of her tour in Lesbia.

Thank goodness for Flatulenny or my hair would be less than black by now. I'm glad he has a flair for hair coloring, my strawberry blond roots were about to reveal my formerly non-goth self.

I am not quite as repulsed by L'Monjello anymore. I'm glad. I think Flatulina might have said something to him about checking his nostrils more regularly. He handled it graciously. I mean when you have to get hygene advice from Flatulina...

Oh yeah, Christmas was OK.

Comments: Add Your Own.

Tuesday, December 16th, 2003

Subject:busy busy busy
Time:8:26 pm.
Mood: pessimistic.
Things have been way too hectic lately with Flatulina's concert schedule picking up. Between working on the performances, dodging L'Monjello, and dealing with my addictions, I have been stretched very thin. I can tell it's starting to get to me. I'm going back to my rebellious, hellish ways. It's like there's just this part of me that WANTS to be bad. Part of me doesn't really care what the consequences are. It's like there's this other force driving me, and I just don't have the will to resist. Then I start acting out and don't think ahead. It's only about getting my "fix" or stirring up trouble.

But in my moments of sanity, I regret the people that I hurt... the ones that I let down. Then I resolve to do better in the future. But deep down I know there is still no guarantee. Nothing will make me immune to my demons. And so I can only hope that I will never again do the unthinkable things that torment me when it's dark and quiet, and I'm all alone. It's like I can't help replaying my transgressions over and over. Counting all of my infractions. How many times did I not tip my waitress... how many videos did I fail to rewind...

I am a tortured soul indeed.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Friday, December 12th, 2003

Subject:humiliation and repulsion
Time:8:19 am.
Why did I open my big stupid mouth about my little crush on L'Monjello!? I am such an idiot. That was totally ungoth of me and I will never do it again. Now I am just grossed out at the sight of L'Monjello's nostrils even though the booger isn't there anymore. Even the sound of his voice makes my skin crawl. I'm trying to act like nothing's wrong, but sometimes I wonder if he senses my bitterness.

Flatulina's shows are going well, she is in her element up there. Her fans here practically worship her as a god, since she is part of the royal family and she is such a natural source of heat which is so precious here in Antarctica. It would be like if Prince William could give concerts where he would generate gold bullion for the world. Quite extraordinary.

I've had pillow marks on my face 3 times this week.

Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Saturday, November 22nd, 2003

Time:9:41 pm.
Mood: nauseated.
How much more drama can one woman take? And when I say one woman, i am not referring to Flatulina. I mean myself.

First of all, Flatulina has been spending so much time with her friend Chris Gaines, she has neglected to check in with me every day to make sure I'm feeling okay. I mean, how... I don't even know the word for it... palpable. BUT - then Chris made the ultimate faux passe, he said the "f" word in front of Flatulina. I mean, he still thinks it's cute to tease her and uses it every once in a while, and NOW she is very hurt.

For those of you who don't know, Flatulina considers the "F" word to be... well not the normal "F" word you think of... but one that is more personally offensive to her. If I were to even type it into my journal, I may get fired. So suffice it to say, it rhymes with "art". She will totally flip out if someone says it to her, and she has been known to banish even the most elite dignitaries from her sight for even whispering it in her presence.

Alright, I'm avoiding the REAL topic at hand. And let me just say the only reason I'm going to address it is because I've had several people writing and asking me what is going on with me and L'Monjello. Honestly I've avoided writing in my journal because I've not wanted to admit the situation. But here it is in a nutshell...

Flatulina kept FORCING me to spend time with L'Monjello even though that was the last thing I wanted to do. I mean just because I say I'm in love with someone doesn't mean I want to spend time with them. Honestly! So anyway, I was horrified when I found out that Flatulina SAID SOMETHING to L'Monjello about my feelings for him! I mean, she downplayed it and so did he, but I felt so betrayed. She thinks that the phrase "Tootie thinks you're neat" doesn't completely reveal my innermost passions, but let me tell you I felt like I was standing there naked... in my black goth Hanes Her Way panties... with nothing but my body piercings and tattoos to hide my shame. So L'Monjello then decided to finish exposing my humiliation by asking me if I wanted to start working on my goth ice dancing again. I mean, it's like was toying with me. Like he knew that the very mention of his name would make me blush, and the instant he walked into the room my heart would start to pound and my mouth would get dry. He just wanted to torture me by putting me in a position where he would be putting his hand in the small of my back and gliding across the ice with me. Even through 4 inches of gortex, the electricity between us is enough to make a balloon stick to the wall.

So then... then... and I hang my head as I write this... then when we were working on skating backwards, he took both of my hands and skated forward, and at the same time he looked into my eyes and said "you're really improving, I'm proud of you." After a statement like that I knew he felt the same way about me, and I blurted out "you're so neat!" That was when it was all out in the open. I had officially poured my heart out to him and was waiting for him to reciprocate my long-suffered devotion.

He totally did. The words "you're pretty neat yourself, Tootie" were so loud in my ears, I could barely breathe. It took every ounce of resolve to continue to look him in the face, and then I saw it...

He had this little green booger stuck in his left nostril. It was frozen.

I never knew so much love and passion could instantly vanish. But it can. And it did.

After I confirmed that it was indeed an actually frozen booger in L'Monjello's nose, I looked away and told him I was starting to get queesy from the backwards ice dancing and promptly skated back to the castle.

Never have I had such a relationship with a man... at least not since I was a bouncer at that bar. But that is a story for another time.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Wednesday, November 12th, 2003

Time:10:08 pm.
Mood: embarrassed.
Well it's been so long since my last post and so much has been happening.

First of all, I'm really dealing with a lot as the tour manager because the record label, Fabulation Records, is putting pressure on me to get these performances going or else they are going to pull the plug. They say the only reason they haven't pulled the plug on this tour already is because we are staying at the royal palace of Flatulina's family while we are here so they aren't having to pay for lodging fur us. But Flatulina hasn't done one concert since L'Monjello went into the coma, and before that the concerts were being thinned down due to the threat of Alan.

I've still not told L'Monjello about my feelings for him. Flatulina forced me to go into his room and spend some time with him. We were playing "Go Fish" and he kept asking me if I was mad at him. He said he thought I was because I had hardly seen him since he'd woken up, and I was being so distant. I could barely look at him. My hands were shakey, I couldn't think of anything to say, not even goth things to say. I felt like I was going to throw up. I told him I wasn't feeling well, and he asked me if I had been using again. I told him "No!" How dare he ask me that?! I was so embarrassed. I honestly have not touched a bottle in a long long time. I mean, first of all they went through my things to make sure I hadn't been stashing anything, and second of all, there is only so much Afrin available in Antarctica. So NO, I haven't been using.

I am a tormented soul. I must tell L'Monjello how I feel. I must. But when?
Comments: Add Your Own.

Monday, November 3rd, 2003

Time:3:42 pm.
Mood: stressed.
I am useless. The emotions that are coursing through my system are so strong, it's crippling.

I wanted nothing more than to be with L'Monjello for the rest of my life while he was lying there in that coma, but now that he is awake, I can't handle it. I haven't even told him my feelings yet. Mostly because Flatulina has insisted that I let him get well and strong first. So I've actually stayed out of his room, keeping myself busy. At times like this I just have to cut. It's like the cutting is all that I can focus on, and it overrides my other sensations.

So I cut and cut and cut all day long. I have not run with the scissors once... since lunch. Flatulina doesn't know about the cutting. she thinks as long as I stay off the Afrin, I'm golden, so the cutting is my little secret. But I won't be able to keep this secret once I open that door to my room. I mean the evidence is quite clear. You can only cut so much before people see the signs... little bits of paper here and there. and the paper snowflakes have piled up so high, it's like I have my own snowbank in my room.

Only a goth would understand the need to cut. And I will keep doing it until I get a grip and tell L'Monjello how I feel... if I can.
Comments: Read 12 orAdd Your Own.

Wednesday, October 29th, 2003

Subject:at last
Time:10:34 am.
Mood: high.
My heart does not even know how to feel all that it feels right now. My sweet L'Monjello is out of his coma and all of the love I have for him is waiting. I could burst.

When I heard his sweet voice say "what's that smell?" I almost fainted. It was too much for me, I started sobbing and had to just leave the room. Is that a goth thing to do?

I haven't done any ice dancing since L'Monjello was attacked and now I am ready to put my combat boot skates on and do my goth ice dance again. Oh if only I could make the ice black, then I would have goth nirvana.

Happiness is a foreign sensation. I don't know what to do.

Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Saturday, October 25th, 2003

Subject:frickin' freezing here
Time:5:48 am.
Mood: contemplative.
I am so tired of this cold...

Here is the weather in Antarctica...

Click for Base Belgrano, Antarctica Forecast
Comments: Add Your Own.

Friday, October 24th, 2003

Subject:Finally, the fish is back...
Time:8:35 pm.
Mood: drained.
Well, at least one day out of my last few weeks has had a glimmer of non-despair. We found Lenny Kravitz, it was the body guard. that corned beef freak gives me the creeps. And Flatulina says she thinks that he likes me. Yuck.

Plus I will never love another besides my poor dear L'Monjello who is still lying in a coma. I can't believe how everyone just forgot him while the fish was missing. I still ache to be with L'Monjello, I can't breathe without him.

And let me just say that all of this stress and not having any performances happening has left Flatulina extra gassy with no outlet. It is really out of control right now. Something has got to change. She is so used to it, it's normal to her, but even though I've been friends with her for years, I don't think I can ever get used to THAT much gas. I don't know how she stays so upbeat. But she does. It's unreal.

i don't know how she does it.

I will now go back to my L'Monjello's side and either wait for him to awaken, or to join him in his darkness.

Comments: Read 2 orAdd Your Own.

Thursday, October 23rd, 2003

Subject:Filling in the story...
Time:12:40 pm.
Mood: pissed off.
Well. I have had to resurrect my soul to step in and be with Flatulina. The love of my life, L'Monjello is lying still and peaceful like and angel, and I must leave his side to be the tour manager that I am.

Lenny Kravitz is missing, there are three possible suspects: Alan Smithee - Flatulina's former boyfriend and current stalker, Eminelle - the pink bicycle riding rapper that Alan has recruited into his scheme to win Flatulina back, or Flatulina's former body guard - the reason my soul mate L'Monjello is in a coma... I will never forgive him for that.

Flatulina did fire her body guard because he was constantly talking about "pulling the plug" on L'Monjello even though L'Monjello is not on life support. Flatulina started hearing her body guard use phrases like "you can never go wrong with a monkey!" and "I feel like a dolphin!" and knew that he must be under the influence of Alan Smithee. All we can assume is that Alan must have hypnotized him when he was staring out of the window of his room. So, once he was fired, the problem was, what do we do with him? There aren't exactly daily flights to and from Antarctica, and we could expect him to hitch hike down that super secret tunnel that connects the tip of Tazmania with Antarctica. So he's been roaming around, and I'm sure up to no good. Fortunately, we can tell he's coming by getting a whif of corned beef a good 50 feet away.

Once the body guard was gone, Flatulina hired her uncle Flatulenny [brother of her deceased mother, Bubbles Cleopatra Boutier] to "stand guard" since her assistant has been running herself ragged and needed some relief. The only problem with that is Flatulenny... well, I'll just say it... he's a big sissy. So I am sure that there would be no way Flatulenny would actually keep anyone from being able to harm Flatulina or the fish.

So now we have Flatulina's useless sissy uncle as her make shift body guard, the fish trainer is in a coma [ my dear sweet L'Monjello], I'm barely functioning in my sorrow, Flatulina's assistant is exhausted, an evil ex-boyfriend gone stalker on the loose, an estranged corned beef loving body guard, and a little weird man with a pink bicycle trying to cause trouble. Let me tell you, all of this stress has completely aggrivated Flatulina's condition, and the air filters are on the fritz, so we are tempted to crack a window even though it is sub-zero temperatures outside.

This world is a big giant black popcicle. I want off.

Comments: Read 2 orAdd Your Own.

Monday, October 20th, 2003

Subject:I ache
Time:1:16 pm.
Mood: exhausted.
I am incapacitated with an aching for my sweet L'Monjello to awaken from the coma. In my mind we have shared so much, when I have only been sitting at his side waiting for him to return to me. Flatulina has left me alone to use as much Afrin as I want. I think she understands that some things are more important than freeing me from my addictions.

So my sweet L'Monjello lies asleep. He has showed some progress and has moved his toes a little. He actually squeezed my hand too. It was as though an electric current went through my body when that happened.

Words cannot describe my desperation. I can hardly breathe.

This is my destiny. This is my fate.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Tuesday, October 14th, 2003

Subject:Oh L'Monjello L'Monjello
Time:7:55 am.
Mood: depressed.
OK, my heart is saturated with pain. Therefore, as any true goth would, I need to express myself in poetry.

My heart for L'Monjello
by Tootie Tull

You're in a coma
and that is bad
I'm remembering all of
the fun we had
You were so helpful
and such a nice lad
But now your unconscious
and that makes me mad
at Alan Smithee
whose breath is so bad
I want to find him
and kick his small gnad
Then he would suffer
but I wouldn't be glad
until you wake up
then I'd be glad
I thought goth ice dancing
could be a new fad
now I may never know
and that is not rad
I love you so much
I want to make you a dad
we could have a goth baby
and name him "goth chad"
but you're so lifeless
can't you move just a tad
oh darling l'monjello
I love you.

my talent for poetry is only exceeded by my love for L'Monjello. I would give anything to have him back. Anything.

My pain is black like licorice.

Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Monday, October 13th, 2003

Time:9:27 am.
Mood: depressed.
Even with snow in every direction, this place seems so dark and lonely.

I know Flatulina posted about L'Monjello's coma. flatulina It's been a rough weekend. I didn't realize it until this happened, but I think I love him. I've been by his side all weekend, and the poetry has been flowing out of me. It's too personal to post any of it.

I admit it, I've been using.

But sometimes the pain is too deep and it hurts to bad. Before I know it, the pixie sticks are calling me. I can't control it.

I know Flatulina will probably read this, but I am too tired to care. I'm to sad to feel anything but sadness.

Oh, L'Monejello, I will do anything if you just wake up. Then we can be together forever.

Flatulina's body guard says he loves me. i don't love him. He smells like corned beef. Even when he hasn't had any. And he likes to wear yellow. No goth would be with a man who wears yellow.

So that is all I have to say. My combat boot skates are sitting there lifeless. As lifeless as L'Monjello.

Comments: Add Your Own.

Monday, October 6th, 2003

Subject:Last Night
Time:6:30 am.
Mood: amused.
OK, it must have been what Alan Smithee referred to as "operation lemon jello" in his journal alansmitheex but it was so lame and unsuccessful, it's almost unbelievable.

Last night L'Monjello and I were on the ice rink, and I was working on my routine. [I will post more details like my outfit and music as they get nailed down but I'm still just learning some things, thanks for your interest Dreamsighted.] So we were working this twirl, and suddenly we noticed this formation of icicles in the snow... like some weird type of symbol. So anyway, we see these icicles in this triangular shape, and L'Monjello just says "cool, I love icicles!" and starts to eat one like a popsicle. Looking back on the whole evening, after what happened next, I'm almost positive that it was Alan trying to psych us out with some weenie attempt at a Blair Witch Project type of thing, and I'm sure our lack of alarm probably made him very annoyed.

After we each ate an icicle, we went back to work. As L'Monjello was spotting me on a lift, and we were both skating along the edge of the rink, out of the corner of our eye, we saw something get thrown down onto the ice. So we veered left and avoided it, but found that it was a lasso. A LASSO! So L'Monjello skated back over to it, and grabbed the lasso really fast and yanked it, and what do you know, but Alan Smithee came lunging forward like when a game of tug-o-war comes to an end. He had been crouched down on the other side of the rink wall. I'm surprised I hadn't smelled him earlier.

So as Alan came sprawling forward, behind us, we heard this really loud thud and crack. We looked and about 10 feet behind where we were standing, was this anvil about the size of an iron sticking out of the ice. An anvil. An actual ANVIL. I didn't know they even existed in real life, I just thought they used them in roadrunner cartoons.

Then, I didn't get a really good look at him, but there was this weird looking dude with knee pads and a pink bike helmet running away. He had been up in the rafters and I am assuming was planning to drop the anvil on L'Monjello after he was caught in the lasso. This guy has some bad bad aim.

As we were distracted by the pink bike helmet guy who I am assuming might be Eminelle, Alan made a run for it, and L'Monjello didn't even try to catch him. He could have because Alan runs like a little girl, but he really is no threat. He's just creepy.

So that was apparently "operation lemon jello" the operative so cleverly named by Alan Smithee as his plan to catch L'Monjello. Whatever... I look forward to his next "evil plan". If I wasn't so goth, I would laugh.

Comments: Add Your Own.

Sunday, October 5th, 2003

Subject:Update from Fritz
Time:11:31 pm.
Mood: determined.
My LJ friend, Fritz posted the following to me...

"As for eminell, I haven't seen him for a while.
His little pink bicycle has been gone ever since
last weekend: when I returned home, it was missing,
along with him. My web browser was also opened
to the Amtrak website ... ?
Take care,

This could mean that Eminelle is on his way here or has already arrived. There aren't that many flights that come into Antarctica, so I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to check the schedule. But if he came by boat or by that highly secret underground tunnel from Tazmania, then he might slip past the radar. I'll have to tell the body guard, and also the palace guards to keep their eyes out for a pink bicycle.

Comments: Add Your Own.

Time:7:39 pm.
Mood: working.
You can never let your guard down on an addiction. Sometimes I feel like there is this monster inside of me. this monster that wants to destroy me, and I can't control it. I am almost powerless. I get overwhelmed by these urges and there is no sense of logic. Like there is one thing and one thing only that I need. I will not stop until I get it. Nothing else matters. Not the consequences, not the people who love me, not my health, not my money... nothing. But it's not worth it. No amount of Afrin will ever make me truly happy. I just wish I didn't struggle like I do.

The goth ice dancing is harder than I thought it would be, and L'Monjello is having a hard time balancing coaching me and taking care of the fish. I found this really great way to put ice skate blades on my combat boots. It makes my skating outfit way cooler. My nose ring almost got yanked out doing a flip the other day. I'll bet the prissy little ordinary ice dancers don't ever deal with that. You've got to be much tougher to be a GOTH ice dancer. Way tougher.

Alan is still lurking somewhere around here, but so far he hasn't tried anything. It's only a matter of time. In one sense I'm not concerned at all because he's so weak and frail and friendless, what can he do? On the other hand, he is a complete psycho, and there is no telling who else he might have hypnotized or manipulated into helping him. He's apparently got this Eminelle character who is on his side, but if he's not in Antarctica with him, I don't know what he could do. Flatulina's body guard is not leaving her alone for one minute, and I think honestly she's not completely at ease because she gets even more gassy whenever his name comes up. Thank goodness I don't have to share a room with her anymore. It's pretty stuffy when you share a room with flatch and you can't open the window, know what I mean?

Comments: Read 3 orAdd Your Own.

Friday, October 3rd, 2003

Subject:Flatch asked me to post this
Time:9:54 am.
Mood: anxious.
She said it might be good to link our journals together for the fans. So here are the players:

Now you can keep up with the story from reading these.

Comments: Add Your Own.

LiveJournal for Tootie Tull.

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