grab-bag of conspiracy theories: that’s not how that works

asktheimprobableinvestigators:

hypotheticalwoman said to asktheimprobableinvestigators: So I just got back from my stepdad’s place - they believe all the conspiracies there. Chemtrails, Big Pharma, the thing about the Rothschilds running the entire world and in fact being shapeshifting alien lizards, you know, the works. Do you guys have a favourite conspiracy?

I CANNOT UNDERSTAND THIS CHEMTRAIL THING. SERIOUSLY. DO THEY ACTUALLY THINK CONTRAILS ARE…WHAT, SOME KIND OF MIND-CONTROL DRUGS BEING SQUIRTED OUT OF PLANES? SERIOUSLY? IS THAT WHAT THEY THINK?

I DON’T KNOW. IT SEEMS IMPROBABLE. BuT THEN SO DO MOST THINGS THE WOO AFICIONADOS BELIEVE. LET’S uS LOOK IT uP ON THE INTERNET. SHALL WE.

YOU LOOK IT UP, MY BRAIN CAN’T HANDLE THE DUMB THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING. ALSO, GO MAKE ME COFFEE.

MAKE YOuRSELF COFFEE. IF YOu ARE GOING TO ABNEGATE YOuR RESPONSIBILITY. TO THE ASKBLOG. I AM NOT GOING TO CAFFEINATE YOu.

OH MY GOD.

OH YOUR GOD WHAT?

THEY REALLY DO APPEAR TO BELIEVE. THAT CONTRAILS ARE “CHEMICAL OR BIOLOGICAL AGENTS. DELIBERATELY SPRAYED FOR SINISTER PuRPOSES.”

WHY?

AS FAR AS I CAN TELL. BECAuSE THEY WANT TO. IF IT WERE POSSIBLE FOR THESE CRETINS TO ACCuSE THE GuMMINT. OF COVERING IT uP. THEY WOuLD NO DOuBT CLAIM THE MOON TO BE MADE OF GREEN GuMMINT CHEESE.

OK, BOYS AND GIRLS, REAL QUICK, LET’S HAVE A NICE HEARTENING SHOT OF ATMOSPHERIC PHYSICS. WHAT ARE CLOUDS MADE OF?

WATER DROPLETS. OR TINY ICE CRYSTALS.

GOOD! AND WHAT CAUSES THEM TO FORM?

THE AIR BECOMING SATuRATED. WHICH IS A FuNCTION OF ITS PRESSuRE AND TEMPERATuRE. WARM AIR RISES BECAuSE IT IS LESS DENSE THAN COOLER AIR SuRROuNDING IT. AS IT RISES. THE ATMOSPHERIC PRESSuRE DECREASES. AND THE WARM AIR EXPANDS. WHICH COOLS IT DOWN. WHEN IT REACHES A CERTAIN TEMPERATuRE, IT BECOMES SATuRATED. AND THE WATER VAPOuR CONDENSES INTO VISIBLE CLOuD.

YOU KNOW HOW WATER CONDENSES ON THE SURFACE OF A COLD GLASS? THAT’S WHAT’S HAPPENING WAY THE FUCK UP IN THE ATMOSPHERE. CONTRAILS ARE A TYPE OF MAN-MADE CLOUD. THE ONES THAT STRETCH BEHIND THE ENGINES IN LONG STREAKS ARE CAUSED BY WATER VAPOR FROM THE PLANE’S ENGINES. WHEN YOU BURN JET-A YOU GET CARBON DIOXIDE AND WATER VAPOR, WHICH WHEN IT COMES OUT OF THE BACK OF THE ENGINE GOES “HOLY SHIT IT’S FREEZING” AND CONDENSES INTO TINY DROPLETS AND/OR ICE CRYSTALS. THOSE ARE VISIBLE AS THE LONG LINES OF CLOUD.

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Oh god, that’s lovely. I am not entirely sure what my stepdad’s crowd believes about the pyramids, either that they’re a fake or that aliens built them. Possibly both.

Also ‘where I have a brain you have a sack of expired gummy worms’ is the best insult I’ve heard in weeks.

UNTF 74 Basics

jocelynswriting:

  • Format: Series of short stories and drabbles
  • Priority: High
  • World: Alternate Earth

Premise
The United Nations Counter-Terrorism and International Defence Task Force (or UNTF for short) is the most selective and elite Special Forces division in the world. Every soldier recruited is highly trained and highly skilled. Some are the best in their field in the entire world. UNTF 74 is one of their best squads… on the field at least.

Important Characters

*Characters go by their call signs, even on base. They rarely use their real names.

  • Mud, real name Jeremy Carvane. Male, 22 years old, American (Oregon). Corporal. Grunt, newly recruited. 5’8, lightly muscled build. Brown hair. Brown eyes.
  • Bond, real name James Koveny. Male, 35 years old, English (London). Captain. CO, logistical specialist. 5’9, light muscled build. Dark brown hair. Hazel eyes.
  • Hoser, real name Grant Tippens. Male, 32 years old, Canadian. Lieutenant. XO, digital security specialist. 6’5, slim build. Light brown hair. Dark brown eyes.
  • Windex, real name David Jones. Male, 30 years old, Australian. Sergeant Major. Sniper, reconnaissance specialist. 5’10, slim build, bordering on slender. Light brown hair. Grey eyes.
  • Brand, real name Donovan Westshire. Male, 26 years old, English (Cheshire). Master Sergeant. Spotter, sniper. 5’8, lightly muscled build. Brown with a streak of white running from his right ear to the back of his head. Brown eyes.
  • Bio, real name Stefen Haegmann. Male, 25 years old, Swedish. Sergeant. Field medic, chemical weapons and interrogation specialist. 5’10, broadly built. Dirty blond hair. Dark blue eyes.
  • Panic, real name Keifer Schulz. Male, 25 years old, German. Sergeant. Explosives and heavy weapons specialist. 5’9, heavily muscled build. Red hair. Blue eyes.
  • Snot, real name Leon Baird. Male, 24 years old, American (New York). Sergeant. Pilot, aircraft maintenance specialist. 6’, slim build. Blond hair. Light blue eyes.
  • Flint, real name John Mendez. Male, 24 years old, American (California). Sergeant. Close combat (knives) specialist. 5’6, lightly muscled build. Black hair. Brown eyes.
  • Flea, real name Lorne Duinn. Male, 23 years old, Irish. Sergeant. Driving and vehicular maintenance specialist. 5’8, lightly muscled build. Light brown hair. Green eyes.

Links to shorts under the cut! Enjoy! :)

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God, I love these boys.

branaivanovic:

Harry Potter: Re-imagined 

-Ginny Weasley

-Neville Longbottom

-Luna Lovegood

needs more Muslims

I’m serious. I’m in the UK and when I was at school there were virtually no kids of African or Asian descent. The biggest non-white ethnic group in the country is Indian. Where I grew up it was specifically Pakistani.

Lately there seem to be a lot more Eastern Europeans - Poles and Lithuanians, for example - and slightly more Asian and black people, but still not that many.

America has a lot of black people because of the slave trade. Most of the people dragged over here by maurauding colonists were Indian. That’s one of a bunch of reasons why Britain’s ethnic makeup is different from the US.

(via kairis-matic)

The Only Harry Potter Fanfic I Will Ever Write (Probably)

the-real-seebs:

ursulavernon:

(There was a call to make an LJ post today, so since I was thinking about how Hufflepuff gets absolutely no love the other day, you get my sorry attempts at fic.)

            “Help!” cried the very junior wizard, falling down on the doorstep of the medium-sized cottage that would someday be Hogwarts. “Help!  The giants are invading!”
            “Giants?” asked Godric Gryffindor, sticking his head out of the window. “I thought we beat those last week.”
            “These are different giants,” said the junior wizard. “Also wolves. And basilisks.”
            “Wolves and basilisks?”
            “The wolves are riding the basilisks,” said the wizard. “Look, it’s a bit of a mess, all right?” He rubbed his forehead.
            “Are they werewolves?” called Helga Hufflepuff, from inside the cottage. “I firmly believe that werewolves should be judged by their actions as individuals. This anti-lycanthropic discrimination has got to stop.”
            “They’re riding basilisks,” said Godric. “They’re probably not upstanding members of the werewolf community.”
            “Wouldn’t they have turned to stone?” asked Rowena Ravenclaw, who was sitting in an armchair with a book. She turned a page.
            “Smoked goggles,” said the junior wizard shortly. “Incidentally, I’m bleeding rather a lot.”
            “Oh, you poor dear,” said Helga, wiping her hands on her apron. “Come in and we’ll get you fixed up.”
            The junior wizard sat at the dining room table and was given cookies and a very large brandy, while the four great wizards planned their next move.
            Unfortunately, they were still not very good at working together. Godric wanted a straight charge up the middle, death-or-glory style. Rowena wanted an elaborate battle plan involving perfect timing and the movement of a great many troops they didn’t actually have. Salazar suggested they just seed the enemy’s supplies with botulism and canine distemper.
            “Cowardly!” cried Godric. But Rowena looked thoughtful. Helga tapped a fingernail on her teeth.
            In the end, it was agreed that they would simply all meet on the field of battle tomorrow, ready to fight, and see what the future held.


            In the morning, three wizards gathered on the field of battle. It was a groad, grassy bowl, bordered by hills. Giants and basilisks and werewolves wearing glasses lurked on the far side, although the werewolves were looking a little strung out by the lack of moonlight.
            Rowena was surrounded by a swirling cloud of ravens. They flapped and shrieked in harsh voices.
            “Nice,” said Salazar. “Bit goth, though.”
            “Says a man wearing a giant snake as a bandolier.”
            “That’s not goth, that’s metal. It’s different.”
            Godric was riding a griffin and was a bit annoyed that no one had mentioned how cool it was.
            “You know that thing’ll go to sleep if somebody throws a coat over its head,” said Salazar nastily.
            “Shut up,” said Godric. “You can’t ride your snake.”
            “A snake big enough to ride would need a redesigned nervous system,” said Rowena absently. “You couldn’t get the messages to the tail fast enough. Not sure the circulatory system would hold up, either, to be honest—“
            “I notice somebody hasn’t shown up,” said Salazar.
            “I’m sure Helga will be here in a minute,” said Rowena.
            “What’s she going to do, bake cookies at them?”
            “She can be the healer,” said Godric. “Healers are important.”
            Salazar rolled his eyes.
            They waited. The griffin crapped and everybody had to move upwind.
            “We should never have invited her,” said Salazar. “She can’t found a wizarding school. Her greatest ambition is to get the garden weeded before company comes over.”
            “I’ve seen some pretty lethal plant wizards,” said Godric loyally. “With…um…you know, big thorn hedge things…” He made hand gestures. Salazar looked at him like he was an idiot.
            The ravens were getting bored. They ceased swirling and landed on the grass, grumbling to each other. “Ark. Ark Ark? Ark.”
            Godric ran a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he admitted. “Maybe this isn’t really playing to Helga’s strengths. We could…errr…”
            The ground rumbled.
            The ravens took flight. The griffin squawked. Salazar’s snake constricted in a panic, and Rowena had to help him get it unwound from around his neck.
            The grassy hillside split open.
            Claws as long as a man’s thigh emerged from the earth. Clods of dirt flew as a gigantic beast emerged, shaking its head. A cloud of wet air belched over the three wizards, smelling of worms and turned earth.
            “Sorry!” called a voice from inside the cloud. “Sorry! Monty, you came up too close! You’ll trample the wrong people!””
            “Oh dear god, it’s a badger,” said Godric.
            “Dire badger, I believe,” said Rowena. “Meles dirus. I thought they were extinct…
Salazar put a hand over his eyes.
            It was the size of a house. Helga’s saddle was halfway up the creature’s back, nearly lost on that vast curve of spine. She was still wearing her apron and her gardening gloves.
The badger shook itself again, spattering them all with dirt. The black and white stripes were visible now, along with tiny reins that ran to the base of the creature’s whiskers. It was wearing goggles that appeared to have been cobbled together from ship’s portholes.
            “Good badger!” said Helga. “Who’s a good boy, then?”
            “She named the badger Monty,” said Salazar to no one in particular.
            “Sorry I’m late,” said Helga. “It was hard to get the goggles on him. But he’s such a good badger! Does a good badger want to stomp the mean giants for Mommy?”
            The dire badger gave another belching roar and waved its claws.
            “Kill me,” said Salazar to Rowena.
            “Godric would love to.”
            “I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.”
            “All right,” said Godric, feeling that his authority was somewhat diminished by the fact that his very cool griffin was only about a tenth the size of Helga’s badger. “All right. Um. It’s not the size of the—“
            “Keep telling yourself that, Godric,” said Rowena.
            Monty began lumbering toward the enemy.
            “Would it be okay if we charged now?” called Helga. “I hope it’s okay! Monty’s not very good at waiting…”
            The dire badger broke into a waddling run.
            Godric spurred the griffin, because there was absolutely no glory in being left behind by a badger.
            Rowena and Salazar walked, rather more sedately, toward the enemy.
            “So, about letting her help found the school…” said Rowena.
            “I can admit when I’m wrong,” said Salazar, once Godric was out of earshot.
           “Yes, but you never do.”
           “This is me admitting that I am possibly wrong.” He adjusted his snake. “But you have to admit, you didn’t see the badger coming either.”
           “No,” said Rowena Ravenclaw, “no, the giant badger was a surprise.” She considered. “Hard work and loyalty aren’t bad principles.”
           “They’re a lot better when you’ve got a giant goddamn war-badger to back them up.”
           And none of the other founders ever questioned Helga Hufflepuff’s right to found a wizarding house ever again.

            THE END

By the power vested in me by my extreme arrogance, I hereby confirm this story as actual Harry Potter canon.

I love Ursula.

(via jumpingjacktrash)

A Dress for Abbey

afinedoll:

When I bought Music Festival Abbey, I was going to stick with just the one doll and make an extensive wardrobe for her (hah, it is to make a hollow laughing). This has of course not gone entirely to plan, since these dolls are kind of like a cross between Pokemon and crack, but there we go.

Anyway, this post is about one of the first dresses I made for her.

image

The pattern is by Shannanigan, and I found it on Pinterest, where there are doll patterns enough to satisfy the needs of any tiny couturer. If you’d like to follow my own collection, here is the link.

The pattern fit Abbey pretty much perfectly. I made it by hand (sewing machines are not so much a thing with me) out of this darling floral print I found on my local market and decided was perfect, and trimmed it with 1/2 inch lace. I feel trimming is important on doll garments - sometimes they can get away without it but mostly they look unfinished and therefore less real.

The bangle is a bead with an extra-large hole, I bought a few of those in several colours because they make such nice bracelets. Then I made a headband to match the dress, and the outfit is done!

I don’t have this outfit anymore - it went to my niece along with the doll. But it was simple and easy to make, so I really should make another. Several others, in many colours. One for each MH doll I have now.

OK, maybe I’m getting a little carried away…

mimswriter:

Kurt Vonnegut: 16 Rules For Writing Fiction
1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
4. Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
5. Start as close to the end as possible.
6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.
9. Find a subject you care aboutand which you in your heart feel others should care about.
10. Do not ramble.
11. Keep it simple. Simplicity of language is not only reputable, but perhaps even sacred.
12. Have guts to cut. Your rule might be this: If a sentence, no matter how excellent, does not illuminate your subject in some new and useful way, scratch it out.
13. Sound like yourself. The writing style which is most natural for you is bound to echo the speech you heard when a child.
14. Say what you mean. You should avoid Picasso-style or jazz-style writing, if you have something worth saying and wish to be understood.
15. Pity the readers. Our stylistic options as writers are neither numerous nor glamorous, since our readers are bound to be such imperfect artists.
16. You choose. The most meaningful aspect of our styles, which is what we choose to write about, is utterly unlimited.

mimswriter:

Kurt Vonnegut: 16 Rules For Writing Fiction

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.

3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.

4. Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.

5. Start as close to the end as possible.

6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.

8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

9. Find a subject you care aboutand which you in your heart feel others should care about.

10. Do not ramble.

11. Keep it simple. Simplicity of language is not only reputable, but perhaps even sacred.

12. Have guts to cut. Your rule might be this: If a sentence, no matter how excellent, does not illuminate your subject in some new and useful way, scratch it out.

13. Sound like yourself. The writing style which is most natural for you is bound to echo the speech you heard when a child.

14. Say what you mean. You should avoid Picasso-style or jazz-style writing, if you have something worth saying and wish to be understood.

15. Pity the readers. Our stylistic options as writers are neither numerous nor glamorous, since our readers are bound to be such imperfect artists.

16. You choose. The most meaningful aspect of our styles, which is what we choose to write about, is utterly unlimited.

(via kairis-matic)

prasm:

yourscientistfriend:

wheatily:

 poots 

I laughed so hard at the word poots

These poots are made for walkin

How would you even clean those?

prasm:

yourscientistfriend:

wheatily:

poots

I laughed so hard at the word poots

These poots are made for walkin

How would you even clean those?

(via kairis-matic)

Raising a child is like taking care of someone who’s on way too many shrooms, while you yourself are on a moderate amount of shrooms. I am not confident in my decisions, but I know you should not be eating a mousepad.

Ron Funches (via lazybookreviews)

I CAN’T EMPHASISE ENOUGH HOW ACCURATE THIS IS.

(via perfectlittleprince)

I will never not reblog this….

(via polyamoryspider)

(via kairis-matic)

taekoyasuhiro:

image

friend ?????!?

image

friend!!!!!

image

im coming friend

image

im here i love u

(via doctordischordia)

Monster High - A triple review!

afinedoll:

OK, this is a big post just to kick us off. I am fairly wordy so most of my posts are likely to be big, but this one’s a humdinger so most of it’s going under the cut. Oh, and while I think of it, I swear occasionally. Is that going to be a problem? Because if so we’d better just get the warning out of the way now. Right.

ANYWAY.

Most of the technical stuff is covered much better by the Toy Box Philosopher, so this will cover mostly aesthetics and personality and the like.

I accumilated several dolls before I got around to starting this blog, but I was always going to start with the one in my icon, which of course meant I had to include the one that came with her - and so while we’re doing those, I’m also including the first Monster High doll I had, which I don’t have anymore.

image

The Gorgon/Mummy CAM set, and Music Festival Abbey Bominable.

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Introducing my doll blog!

afinedoll:

Hi, this is Liz from hypotheticalwoman and this is my new blog for all things concerning dolls! Here I will be showing off the doll clothes I’ve made, my doll mods, the dolls I find at auctions and flea markets and the like; reviewing dolls and doll accessories; and whatever else comes to mind.

Mostly my field is playscale dolls - Monster High, Barbie, Ever After High, Momoko, Bratzillaz, etc. etc. etc., although occasionally we may see appearances from other sizes of doll, and also the cloth dolls I make from time to time as well.

How long this blog stays up remains to be seen. My sticking power varies; although if people start showing interest that’s obviously an incentive!

I hope I do not disappoint.

LIZ

So I started a doll blog. Let’s see how long I can keep this up.

paradoxes-for-breakfast:

reasons why halloween is the best holiday:

  1. you are not obliged to visit your relatives
  2. you are not obliged to get gifts for anyone
  3. people will give you candy for absolutely no reason other than halloween
  4. its the only day when its socially acceptable to go out in public dressed like a penguin

In the UK 4. is only really true if it’s a scary penguin

(via k2e4)

jumpingjacktrash:

rainbowbarnacle:

notwosnowflakesarealike:

johamesthenifty:

The rental house had a small door in one of the closets
Led to the inner linings of the house
I’ve seen enough movies to know what not to do

I’ve seen Coraline enough times to know not to fuck with that.

My childhood bedroom had a little door in the closet like that! :D The carpet made it so I couldn’t open it, though that didn’t stop me from trying.

I was very disappointed to learn that it was just a doorway to get at the bathroom plumbing.

in my house the tiny door is in my bedroom wall

yeah it just goes to the plumbing and it’s really loud when someone takes a shower so i stuffed a pillow in it

In my house it’s in the living room wall. It leads to the gas meter. Maybe I should start leaving things in there to freak out the guy who reads the meter? I have enough random weird junk in this house that would fit.

What 9/11 Truthers Actually Believe Happened, Courtesy of Liveleak User AcidViking

  • Shadowy government agent #1: "We need more oil. Let's invade Iraq."
  • Shadowy government agent #2: "We need an excuse first."
  • Agent #1: "OK - let's rig the Twin Towers with explosives, making sure none of the thousands of people who work there sees us doing it. Then let's brainwash some Saudis to hijack two planes and fly them into the towers. Then we'll set off the charges and collapse the buildings."
  • Agent #2: "Why bother with making sure the buildings collapse? Plenty of people will die when they fly planes into them. That should get the world on our side."
  • Agent #1: "Because there won't be enough people in on the conspiracy with just a simple kamikaze attack. We want to have hundreds of contractors, suppliers, demolition experts, security guards, fire department personnel, building supervisors, etc, etc to bribe to keep quiet for at least ten years."
  • Agent #2: "Um, OK. Shall we attack another building too?"
  • Agent #1: "Yes. Let's fire a cruise missile at the Pentagon during morning rush hour."
  • Agent #2: "Not in the middle of the night when no one would see it?"
  • Agent #1: "No."
  • Agent #2: "But there'll be lots of witnesses."
  • Agent #1: "Don't worry. We'll pay them all to say it was a Boeing 757. And we'll knock down some lampposts on the highway overpass too, because I've just realised a cruise missile doesn't have the same wingspan as a 757. Oh, and we'll confiscate some CCTV footage to make people think we're hiding something."
  • Agent #2: "But don't we always confiscate CCTV footage when we're investigating something?"
  • Agent #1: "Yes. But this time, for some reason, it'll be suspicious."
  • Agent #2: “But if we fire a cruise missile, that would leave a 757 unaccounted for.”
  • Agent #1: “No problem. We’ll just hijack one ourselves and fly it somewhere like Andrews Air Force Base or Area 51 or something like that, dismantle it, kill all the passengers, burn the luggage and then transport all the wreckage to the Pentagon to scatter around as evidence.”
  • Agent #2: “I see.”
  • Agent #1: “Also, because the towers have a lightweight steel tube framework to allow them to sway in the wind, and the Pentagon is made of reinforced concrete, a lot of LiveLeak users will be confused by the different impact shapes. So they’ll be happy to believe in the cruise missile.”
  • Agent #2: “Um…….”
  • Agent #1: “What’s up?”
  • Agent #2: “Why don’t we just, er, actually fly another plane into the Pentagon? I mean, by that stage people will already have seen two jumbo jets fly into the Twin Towers, so I don’t see the problem with using a third.”
  • Agent #1: “For Christ’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you? We want things as complicated as possible so clever people on the internet can spot the holes in our plans.”
  • Agent #2: “Ah, right….. Sorry. OK, I’ll go get the brainwashing machine and kidnap some Saudis, then we’re good to go.”
  • Note to everyone: I posted this before, and I’m going to post it again every time I see some conspiracy loon’s comment on a 9/11 vid. Hopefully, it might sink in with one of them. That’s all I want - just one to say: “Oh yeah… that’s an alternative view.” But it ain’t going to happen… -AcidViking
This is a place for me to put things DA and Y! won't let me, random stuff I have on my mind, things I think are cool and all that kind of crap. The big hypothetical dumping ground. Every artist needs one. Also, while you're here, feed my fish!

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