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  • #16
    Chapter 10: Who is who

    In the yard, Mark and I sat on the top step of dozens of steep stone steps against the high stone wall that encircled TD state prison. These steps were so high it reminded you of Coba, the highest steps in the Mayan world at the temple ruins in Mexico.



    Recreation time. A time for walking, talking, jogging, weights, calisthenics, games of basketball, and throwing baseball, football, and kicking footballs. The Yard was huge. Bigger than an American football field in length and width. There was even enough room for a football (soccer) field and games were played regularly.





    I just realized that I had not seen a bird since coming into the joint.




    I nodded.








    We were quiet.













    do you see?

    I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what he meant.







    Mark lifted up his hand and pointed to a corner of the yard in the distance.



    I looked in that direction.











    Mark took out his mini-binoculars and handed them to me. I brought them to my eyes looking through the narrow oval scopes.

    Mark pointed precisely to a guy sitting on a wooden bench at a table. He was tall, lanky, had brown long hair in the back kinda like a mullet and a moustache. He was wearing a jean jacket, talking with somebody.



















    Mark took his hand and motioned it to the right.




















    Mark took both hands and motioned up towards the center of the yard and then spread his palms wider and wider and up near the back-end and turned to me.















    Here at TD state prison in the Kern valley all inmates wore the same Teakdoor dark blue jumpsuits, regardless of what forum jailed them and regardless of where they were banned from.

    But this was about to change:













    nd



    Tders in dark blue and black.
    Ajarners in light blue w/ darker blue trim
    Mangos, Orange and White
    Thailand Chatters, Dark Gray and White
    TVers in yellow and white.
    Trip Advisers green and white.







    There was this tall, medium sized guy with glasses sitting alone at one of the tables. He was pretending to read a paperback book, but what he was really doing was looking around. He looked uncomfortable. Nervous. Furtive.









    I cackled with a low laugh under my breath.

    "He's doing 2 weeks. Short stint," Mark added.







    This is not the place to go it alone.
    We practice the concept of S.I.N.
    Safety in Numbers.





    I loud speaker bull-horn blew a dull whistle sounds that lasted 20 seconds. It was time to exit the yard and head back to our cells for 1 hour, to the showers if needed and then eat the last meal of our day, the prison dinner at the Chow Hall.




    LWO Community strong!

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    • #17
      Meanwhile, in the provincial TD pennitentiary in Mai Ass:

      Headmistress Kit:
      Warden Balddick, I have called you to my office to report on the progress of the character adjustment program.
      I haven't heard any whiplashes from cell 47 on the intercom for a while, nor the whimpering at night when the gag is removed. Have you been neglecting your duty, officer?

      Warden Balddick:
      Ma'am, prisoner 1062, a repeat offender and notorious multinicker, presently known as "Gramps", is no longer with us.
      After his latest attempt to escape and escapades on NTD, he was apprehended with the help of special agent D. Knowlton and handed over to US authorities.
      He is doing hard time in the States now, Madam.
      Originally posted by Ergenburgensmurgen;n186588
      What are you talking about, I don't post on Teakdoor.


      https://thailandchatter.com/core/ima...ies/giggle.gif

      Comment


      • #18
        For reference see Ch. 9 - Meeting the Shrink

        Chapter 11:

        Lessons Learned

        I was sitting at my desk in my cell.

        Doing my homework assignment from my first meeting with Dr. Ganel.


        It wasn't "homework" really, but something I wanted to do. Something coming from me inside to balance my mind and soul.


        I was thinking, writing, and thinking. I had time to myself. This is something that's treasured in prison.


        It was quiet, as Mark was at his day job in the prison laundry.




        3 days later: June 13th, 2018.




        I was escorted down the hall of the East Wing and once again sat in the chair outside Dr. Ganel's office, waiting for her to open the door and invite me in. I held my notebook in my hand.


        The last session was thereaupeutic. Cathartic.


        It lead me on the path to accept my situation and how to best deal with it psychologically. This is a long process for some. Less so, for others.




        The door opened.


        "Good afternoon, Grampa."


        "Hi, Dr. Ganel."


        "Calling me Laura is fine, but it's up to you."


        "OK, Laura."


        We walked to the chair at her desk and we both sat down.


        "Alright, so how was your week?" She smiled.


        "Good," I nodded.


        "Anything happen that you want to discuss? Any issues of sort?"


        "No, nothing in particular. Just....generally....getting a grip on things, mentally. I wrote the essay we talked about last week at our session."


        "Oh, great," replied Dr. Ganel.


        "I'd like to give it to you," I said.


        "Sure. But first, before I take it, can you read it to me out-loud?"


        "Yes," I answered.


        "Do you want to sit over there," she asked, motioning to the long therapy chair.


        "No, it's OK. I can read it to you here at your desk."


        "Good, let's here it.




        I opened my notebook and looked down at the title which read:




        Essay: Lessons Learned


        I waited 5 seconds, then read, out-loud:




        I have learned many things from my current situation. First and foremost I've realized that I am 100% percent responsible for where I am
        today.

        I am responsible for the present circumstances that I'm in.

        Now that I have accepted this, I can move on towards being a better poster and more importantly, a better person.

        If I'm ever given the opportunity for release - to be a part of the TD community again - I will know that it is a privilege and not a right.

        I will change my behavior. My posting behavior.


        I will NOT post Amercan-centric threads - this is a Thailand forum.

        I will NOT post youtube videos (except on rare occasion in the Sports and Health section).

        I will NOT complain to the TPTB about anything.

        I will NOT bump a thread that has been started by me without a response for 7 days.

        I will post pertinent replies.


        I will focus on posting quality, NOT quantity.


        I looked up at Dr. Ganel. She nodded reassuringly.


        "That's it," I declared.

        "That's very nice," Ganel told me.



        She continued, "By writing this, you've demonstrated that you're taking responsibility. That's a very good sign. And, your noting of what you intend to do if you're ever granted parole.


        "Yes," I confirmed...."And if I ever get paroled, I know that if I break these conditions I've listed I'll get sent back to the Dog House. I know what the stakes are. I know what the consequences will be."


        Dr. Ganel nodded.


        "And there's one more thing......I said.


        "What's that?" Asked Dr. Ganel.




        Hope......I have hope. Hope is a powerful thing. Hope is one that that can never been taken from me."











        LWO Community strong!

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        • #19
          Ch. 12

          Liberty & Love





          34 years later.....


          I got up slowly out of my bunk. My muscles as usual, were stiff. My joints gave the morning obligatory creeks. I walked in front of the mirror above my sink and splashed water on the face and padded it dry with a towel. I took a long content look at myself. My hair was thin and a shiny grey. Wrinkles lined my forehead, and face. Time....


          Today is the day.


          I am being paroled.


          The night before, the guys held a "Getting Out" party for me. Wishing me well, slaps on the back, and echoes of "best of luck."


          Now it was 7 AM in the morning. My suitcase was still open with some assorted things in it. I took my clothes from the shelf and carefully put them into the suitcase.


          Hey Grampa! The guard hollered.



          "You got it. Here's your papers. You're oughtta here," he said, in a congratulatory tone.


          I took the papers he handed me through the bars of my cell.
          I read it: the release date was dated today. March 1, 2052.


          "Sentenced transferred to Parole Department."


          Mark was sitting at his desk chair, gray like me, and slightly heavier than when I first arrived so many years ago.



          "Congrats, Gramps," Mark said.


          "Cheers," I responded, not knowing what to say - not really knowing how to feel towards Mark. I was leaving; we both knew he never would.


          After 3 decades my "Freedom day" had come.


          I had been granted a commutation by the Governor. That means, I'd served enough time and demonstrated that I could be released into society and onto the forum and was no longer a threat. I could "contribute" to the free world. But I still would be on Parole for an indeterminate time.


          I had this euphoric happy feeling, but also anxiety.


          Two guards came to my cell, 326C, un-clicked the lock and called me out.


          "Let's go Gramps," they said - politely and softly this time. The first time I think I've ever heard them speak to me in a conciliatory tone.


          Just as I first came in 34 years ago - I left with a laundry bag. That's what you enter with; that's what you leave with.


          We walked in tandem down the corridor.


          "G'bye Gramps,"


          "See ya Gramps"


          Take care, ya hear!"


          "Keep in touch!"


          "I will!! I shouted.


          Then, the final door: that large white painted steel door that must have been 3 feet thick. The last obstacle between this prison universe and the free world.


          "Open up 1-A!!!!!!


          A loud long buzz, a click, and pop.


          Just like when the orderly Danny who first buzzed me in on my first day, I was being buzzed out.




          The door clicked open with a loud thunderous bang.


          The 2 guards pushed it open in tandem with a steady and heavy force.


          I then walked on the narrow pavement between grass heading to the main large entrance gate.


          I saw the blue sky, trees, shades of green, and most importantly, my mother and best friend Jason sitting in my mom's car.


          I walked towards them with my ill-fitting suit and laundry and item bag with a smile a mile wide. They were elated to meet me and take me away.


          I was older and grayer, but still spry.


          Mom visited me once per month for all of these years, making that 5 hour drive.


          My best friend from high school, Jason, only visited three times, withing the first 2 years of my arrival. I understand, though.
          I understand. People move on with their lives.


          After a couple of years, friends move on. Your real, true friends, become the friends you have on the inside.


          Now, only one thing mattered:


          I was free.


          And to add to this: I was getting married to my hometown, high school sweetheart. My love. The love of my youth.


          After all of the years of separation, We started writing to each other four years ago. After we re-connected Michelle visited me several times. we had both agreed to get married within days of me getting released. The wedding date and location was already set up. It was paid for.


          When I got sent down on March 1, 2018 Michele moved on, as any rational woman with common sense would. She married, had 2 kids who are now adults but later divorced. Today she's an independent woman who was still the same to me as when I fell in love with her at 17. Today is the same as then. For me. I wasn't sure if it was exactly like this for her. But the First Love and Romance of my youth was re-kindled. And the love was even more intense and thorough for me after having been isolated and confined for so long.


          3 days later Michele and I were in a beautiful Western-style resort in a green meadow surrounded by the Cascade Mountains.


          Today was the day: I was marrying my love; she was marrying her love.


          All of my extended family and ol' high school friends were there. The smiles and positivity in their warm hearts and jubilant facial expressions.


          It was a sunny day with bright blue skies.


          I had such a feeling of deep happiness and tranquility. I was on cloud nine.


          How far I had come.


          I stood at the platform and alter in front of our invited guests.


          Michele and I were together, face-to-face, looking each other in the eye.


          "I waited for you Gramps." She smiled.


          "Bless you, sweetheart," I said to her.


          The Minister, with his robe attire stood stoically, giving his words.


          "I know pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride!"


          Michele and I came closer, and closer.....and closer.


          We embraced, and then planted they most romantic and loving kiss of my life. The crowd was clapping.


          I was euphoric.


          Our embrace seemed to last for an eternity


          I heard cheers in the background.


          "Here's to Grampa" I heard. "You two look great together!"


          "Congratulations!" another roared.




          But then our embrace tightened, I felt Michele grab me harder, then harder, tighter and tighter, then pinching, then squeezing.


          I felt pain. Pinching. Poking. Grabbing me and squeezing.


          "Ouch!" I blurted.


          "Argh!"


          But I couldn't move. I tried to move, but was as rigid as a statue. Unable to escape. Unable to breathe. My lungs were caving in. Panic.


          Her grip tightened even more.


          I slightly opened my eyes while I was now frozen and trapped and to my surprise and horror I saw black - not Michelle's white wedding dress - but a a black uniform. I was in a headlock. I twisted my head and looked down. I saw a baton.


          I pushed back and pulled away. But I was frozen, unable to move.


          I then saw black belt and then jangley keys. I was petrified.


          My arms were released and I stepped back.


          It was Officer Mike Rye.


          "Rye!" I blurted.


          It was not Michele, but Rye. A sinister smirk gradually emerged on his face as he peered straight at me with piercing dark eyes behind his sunglasses. A threatening look. I turned and panned the audience of my wedding looking for Michele - who was nowhere to be seen. I then scanned for my parents. My family and friends. The crowd that sat before in the audience were not family and friends but they were all prisoners with grim expressions on their faces. Sullen.



          Suddenly the entire first row was now comprised of prison guards.


          They all sat with menacing looks on their face.


          "IT'S TIME TO GO BACK, GRAMPS. YOUR TIME IS UP." COME WITH US......" as Rye put the handcuffs and ankle-chains on me.


          "Michele is still happily married and your mother died 14 years ago, Gramps." Rye explained. "What did you think? That you would ever get out?"


          I heard several people laughing loudly in the background.


          Darkness. Aching. Emptying.




          "Hey....hey! Hey Gramps!......Gramps!" "Gramps." I heard in a low whisper.




          I opened my eyes....I was hyperventilating.....my forehead was littered with beads of sweat....my t-shirt was wet.....even though it was Winter. My pillow was soaked. Mark hung his head over his top bunk and was looking down at me.


          "You OK?.....Gramps?.....You alright?" He asked with concern.




          I said nothing.




          "It's me.....Mark. You're in here. You're in here," Mark told me.




          "I'm wha....?" I asked.




          "You're in here.....326C. Here. Our cell." Mark answered. "It's 2:30 in the morning."


          Mark hopped down from his top bunk and knelt beside me. His silhouette was highlighted by a dim background light from the corridor of our cells. Then, the right side of his face was illuminated by the light. He did not blink. (1)




          You're mind must have went over the walls," He said. "You were blabbering....talkin' in your sleep."


          I heard....."Michele....I love you......Mom.....We made it......"


          "You were talkin' in your sleep and woke me up....I didn't care...but then you were gettin' louder, So, I woke you up.


          "What?......"Sorry man" I told Mark.


          "It's OK.....Your mind must've have went over the walls," He said.


          "Over the-----?"


          "You're mind.....went over the walls......that means....you had a dream you were free," Mark explained. "I'll talk with you tomorrow," and Mark climbed back up on his bunk.


          I laid in my bed and stared up at the darkness, feeling empty.




          It's Soul Crushing.....Our sub-conscious and conscious plays tricks on us on the inside....some guys worse than others


          It takes your biggest needs, wants, and loves - and of course - that deep desire of Freedom....and it serves this pain to you.... in your dreams.







          LWO Community strong!

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          • #20
            I sincerely hope you have a day job.
            Majestically enthroned amid the vulgar herd

            Comment


            • #21
              Ch. 13:



              Oops! I dropped the Soap



              I was laying down on my top bunk reading a book calledCommissary.















              He was putting some things down on his desk.







              I looked up from my book with eyes a little bit wide.























              I looked at Mark, innocently.



















              ....likesomethingonna



              I looked at mark, expressionless.



              gotta worry about that. nobody gonna attack you in the showers. There is an agreement between all the forum members in here never to do a hit in the showers. Showers are off-limits. Because if attacks and hits were allowed in the showers guys wanna Sausage Factory in there. For sure, when a guy is nakedshowerin



              I nodded to Mark, in agreement.



              shgeneralshowers a poofter if a guy gets close to yawanna shoot the bull or talk turkey you got plenty of time for that outside of the showers. And always look up. Look at or above the shoulders. You never look down. If you look down







              your boss. But you gotta







              I sat up in my bunk and put my book down. I walked towards my locker to get my soap and towel, and took off my socks and shoes to head to the showers on the ground floor.







              He went to his locker and pulled out a pair of new flimsy paper thin flip-flops that were in transparent plastic bags.











              seenguys, a











              I approached the....unknown. Four large walls of the pale white shower room. Bland, like everything in prison. Narrow metal pipes hung down with round shower heads. There were about 25 shower heads on each side of the shower hall for a total of 50 shower heads in total.



              There were only 2 guys in there showering towards the far end away from the entrance. They were about 4 spaces apart and not talking. I chose a shower head on the opposite side about half-way down. I took off my undies and hung them on the rack. Buck naked, I took out my plastic soap container and shampoo, turned on the water nozzle and got wet.



              As soon as I took my soap outguy did in the beginning. Frightening thoughts started to enter my mind.



              F*ckin I thought to myself.



              I glanced quickly to my right and he saw it and made eye contact. "I'm Peter."







              I was all alone with these two.



              I was hiding my increasing nervousness but I knew that they knew. My heart was beating more quickly and I was sudzing up more quickly, washing the same body parts 2 and even 3 times.







              It was fight or flight....or....quietly but firmly walk away and see if they would grab me or strike.



              I chose to stay and say nothing and continued sudzing with a stern expression on my face. I lathered my hair with shampoo.



              I was all alone. I knew that in a 2-against-1 situation I would lose. And lose badly.



              Then all of a sudden I heard another water spigot turn on behind me. I turned my head back around for a quick glance. There was a very big black man with massive muscles, about 6-foot-3 standing under the water twirling his head in a slow circular motion. He must have had 250 pounds of solid muscle on him. His eyes were bugged out. He was on something. He was high as a kite.



              I turned back to the wall and started to rinse my hair. My heart was beating faster and more quickly. I was breathing faster. I needed to just rinse my hair and walk out.































              ....any



              I said nothing.



              I heard voice in my mind. hen he first schooled me up on how things work in here:



              nothinNothinsomethin







              And then returned to me:



              nothin







              I took another quick glance around, but not too fast, and I broke the rule. I looked down at the guy behind me.







              I said nothing.



              I was just finishing up rinsing.



              .....you wanna come to our cell and hangout and party tonight? We got some prunogonna























              Oh, sh*t! I did it. I dropped the soap, I thought.



              Now it was decision time. Not knowing exactly what the situation was I had to make a move. Was this a coming attack or beat up? A potential r*pe? Just messing with a new guy, or a gay proposition?



              He invited me to party and drink in his cell, so I thought the latter. He or they, wanted to know if I was swinging from their side of the street, I surmised.



              I stepped out from under the shower head, grabbed my towel and left the bar of soap on the floor, not going to retrieve it. I slowly yet confidently walked out of the shower room, looking straight ahead towards the exit.








              Last edited by Boots; 10-17-2019, 07:46 AM.
              LWO Community strong!

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              • #22
                Chapter 14: Pizza! Pizza!



                I walked into our cell after my shower.

                Squeeky









                Yayasomethincookin

                ya

                sh

                Ya wanna see good stuff? Lemme show ya my pizza special.

                Now when yagot it and it would take too damn long to make, roll, and whip-around.

                3 years ago we were allowed to have microwave I our cells if we could afford to buy one. Before that, we had to go to the chow hall and there was always a line of inmates nukinckin



                Ingredients:




                1. Ritz crackers (some, less than Saltine)



                1. gotta tight w/ the kitchen crew


                1. Tomato sauce / paste in a bottle


                1. Pepperoni


                1. Top Ramen


                1. One Slim Jim pepperoni stick



                1. Block of cheese


                1. One large empty potato chip bag


                10. A board like a monopoly game board



                Alright. Ya cut da onion, cheese, slim jim up into slices. Then, ya take the Saltine crackers all stacked in their plastic container bag and yaem many times. Put a total of 2 of these containers in the empty potato chip / Dorita bag. This is your dough. Squish it up more. You want it really fine. Like dust. After that, yayaraman

                I nodded, transfixed on this home-made pizza process.

                Mark added the water and then went back to squeezing the bag again.

                Leave it in the bag for 15 minutes and keep squishing it.





                pastespoon it out of the can and dumped and smoothed it out evenly with the spoon. After it was evenly covered with tomato sauce, Mark added the sliced onion

                yaDorita bag in the microwave. Nuke it for about 5 minutes."

                Five minutes later.....



                gotta

                cking


                We devoured it.
                Last edited by Boots; 11-11-2019, 01:56 PM.
                LWO Community strong!

                Comment


                • #23
                  Chapter 15: Pro Bono



                  I was at my desk in my cell reading a book I just started: The Power of Positive Thinking, By Norman Vincent Peale. Mark was watching a baseball game on TV. It was the Cubs playing some other team.



                  She was a bit rotund.



                  I got up out of my chair to retrieve and sign.



                  It read:







                  From: Natty Bumpo, Attorney at Law"



                  "It's from a lawyer," I said to Mark.



                  "Ya didn't do it. You were nowhere near it. You were at a buddy's house. Ya didn't have anything to do with it."That's what you tell him. Then, don't say nothin," Mark ordered me.



                  "Mark, this is from a lawyer, not a cop," I reminded him.



                  "Well, you know these lawyers....."



                  I read the Snowflake:



                  Dear Grampa, inmate # 180301



                  Good afternoon. My name is Natty Bumpo, a practicing attorney working for the law firm of Rosenberg, Stein & Associates. and conviction.

                  Pro Bono







                  Sincerely,



                  Natty Bumpo

                  Attorney at Law



                  Wow, I thought.



                  just a number: 180301.



                  Your inmate number is the date you were jailed and sentenced. March 1, 2018.



                  Ganel, Mark, and my friends here on the inside to focus on making life on the inside as best as possible and basically











                  Ya get the justice ya can afford told me once.



                  only got















                  ReplyForward



                  LWO Community strong!

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                  • #24
                    Chapter 15, part II

                    Hope: Natty Bumpo




                    Friday, 11 AM.



                    Once again escorted, once again waiting in a chair, but different this time, was who opened the door.



                    Bumpo and wheeze.



                    Bumpo,







                    I did.



                    Bumpo,







                    My firm annually as, convictions and sentences. If you allow me to represent you for an appeal it will be



                    Bono?...



                    Uhm, no. Bono, as in Pro Bono



                    ....but



                    "Our firm's investigators chose your chase because of the inconsistencies involved



                    Natty Bumpoever seen. He had medium-length brown wavy hair with traces of speckled of gray, a brown beard, and horn-rimmed glasses. He wore dark brown wing-tip shoes, black slacks, suspenders instead of a belt, and a light blue long-sleeved dress shirt and a black bow tie. He was so big around the mid-section that it looked like his suspenders were pulling a barrel (his pants) around his belly.



                    His breathing was labored. I also noticed a latent wheeze. Probably a smoker. Incipient beads of sweat were now visible on his forehead.



                    I thought to myself.



                    So I can get to know you better?







                    3 hours later:



                    .....



                    Bumpo



                    case for filing a Habeaus



                    He knew immediately that I had no clue what that was.



                    Habeaus



                    What's a writ of habeas corpus?

                    A writ of habeas corpus is a judicial mandate to a prison official ordering that an inmate be brought to the court so it can be determined whether or not that person is imprisoned lawfully and whether or not he or she should be released from custody.



                    Source: https://criminal.findlaw.com/criminal-procedure/the-appeal-writ-and-habeas-corpus-petition-process.html



                    Bumpo? This means I have a chance? A Chance of getting



                    Bumpo



                    I looked down at the table.....



                    Bumpo added.

                    for the TD courts and TPTB. But please note: these appeals take time and move slowly. It could take up to two years.



                    In the meantime, it's very important that you perform....do....certain things to make your prison record cast you in a good light. Things such as taking self-improvement classes, education courses, volunteering, and working in some capacity. Even attending church, perhaps. Please begin this immediately to establish a record of....well....productivity.



                    Productivity?....what's that? I thought to myself.



                    "I represent YOU. I will fight for you and give all that I have to correct this miscarriage of justice."



                    Bumpo," I said ingratiatingly.



                    starting



                    Bumpo.







                    We parted ways and I went back to my cell, elated. I was euphoric. Even a small chance is enough to keep my hope alive.



                    So, they're giving me a chance, I thought to myself smiling.
                    Last edited by Boots; 01-15-2020, 07:11 PM.
                    LWO Community strong!

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                    • #25

                      Keep your friends close and your enemies closer

                      Comment


                      • #26
                        What is this shite?

                        Comment


                        • #27
                          Originally posted by TheRealKW View Post
                          What is this shite?
                          ...It's our answer to TD's fishlocker...
                          Majestically enthroned amid the vulgar herd

                          Comment


                          • #28
                            Though, rather engaging.
                            Literary outlet.



                            The OP - Boots.
                            Do we know him/her from an other guise?

                            Comment


                            • #29
                              ^it's milkman and by the way peon clown FO.
                              Keep your friends close and your enemies closer

                              Comment


                              • #30
                                ^
                                Charming...
                                God, the panic within the Dems, MSM, and left must be horrifying...realizing that Joe is really the best they've got.

                                Comment

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