June 18, 1999

Passionate love is a quenchless thirst.
— Kahlil Gibran


(From the Infamous "Lexicon of Love")

BIRTH CONTROL — Avoiding pregnancy through such tactics as swallowing special pills, inserting a diaphragm, using a condom, and dating repulsive men or spending time around children.


The trouble with finding your perfect soul mate is that she would probably want to get married, then four weeks after the wedding you would meet another perfect soul mate, with larger breasts. — James Knowles

What do you call a tall guy who can masturbate 10 times in a single day? No, it's not a joke, I really need to know, because I want to put it on my resume. — Damon R. Milhem

I want my tombstone to read: "We can't seem to find his body." Because then maybe I'll still be alive. — Jonathan Colan

Copyright © 1999, Chris White


Abandon hope early and avoid the rush.


--== BENT NEWS ==--
Copyright © 1999, by SodaMail

BENT STATISTIC I — 52 percent of men prefer working in the yard to having sex, which was the preference of 47 percent. Among women, 42 percent preferred the yard, 31 percent sex and the rest other pursuits. Home & Garden Television, which commissioned a "lifestyle trends" poll. (Reuters)

BENT STATISTIC II — 57% of American women would choose a shopping spree on someone else's gold credit card, to making love. (British owned Durex company survey of 10,000 people)

BENT STATISTIC III — 50% of Americans would rather make love than be president of the United States for a day. (British owned Durex company survey)


Copyright © 1999, Jim Rosenberg

In Fairfax, VA, police practicing at the wrong shooting range peppered a suburban neighborhood with submachine gun fire Monday, damaging at least 12 homes and three vehicles.
"Damn, this is realistic, Captain! That looks just like a Chrysler Town and Country Minivan full of soccer kids!"

Microbiologist James Urban warns that bug zappers eject insect bacteria out as far as *six feet* as they electrocute insects.
Even farther, if the insects are not wearing seat belts.

A new survey conducted by Children's Institute International reveals that 55 percent of Americans think children occasionally need a "...good, hard spanking."
Among adult men over 21, over 85% felt the same about Pamela Lee.


A pretty young blonde, tired of all the insults about her intelligence due to the color of her hair, decided to take matters into her own hands and change her life by changing her hair color to brown. She thus became a stunning brunette.

Early one Saturday morning, while taking a drive in the country, she came upon a meadow filled with a herd of sheep. She was immediately taken with the sheep, thinking they were the most adorable animals she had ever seen. She stopped her car, moved close to the fence, and yelled to the farmer, who owned the herd, "If I can guess exactly the number of sheep that you have here in this herd, may I have one?"

Reluctantly, he said, "OK!"

After pausing for a moment, she said, "There are exactly 352 sheep in this meadow."

The farmer was amazed that she had guessed correctly, but because of his agreement, he allowed the young lady to take her pick. Slowly she walked through the herd until she spotted the one that she thought was the most adorable and the most frolicsome. She picked it up and started for her car.

The farmer said, "Excuse me, Miss, but if I can correctly guess the color of your hair, may I have my dog back?"


• Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?

• Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels. I work out every day, I'm toned and perfect. My measurements are 36-24-36. What do you look like?

• Wellhung: I'm 6'3" and about 250 pounds. I wear glasses and I have on a pair of blue sweat pants I just bought from Walmart. I'm also wearing a T-shirt with a few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner... it smells funny.

Sweetheart: I want you. Would you like to screw me?

• Wellhung: OK

• Sweetheart: We're in my bedroom. There's soft music playing on the stereo and candles on my dresser and night table. I'm looking up into your eyes, smiling. My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle your huge, swelling bulge.

• Wellhung: I'm gulping, I'm beginning to sweat.

• Sweetheart: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.

• Wellhung: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse. My hands are trembling.

• Sweetheart: I'm moaning softly.

• Wellhung: I'm taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.

• Sweetheart: I'm throwing my head back in pleasure. The cool silk slides off my warm skin. I'm rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.

• Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a hole in your blouse. I'm sorry.

• Sweetheart: That's OK, it wasn't really too expensive.

• Wellhung: I'll pay for it.

• Sweetheart: Don't worry about it. I'm wearing a lacy black bra. My soft breasts are rising and falling, as I breath harder and harder.

• Wellhung: I'm fumbling with the clasp on your bra. I think it's stuck. Do you have any scissors?

• Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly. I'm reaching back undoing the clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my breasts. My nipples are erect for you.

• Wellhung: How did you do that? I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp.

• Sweetheart: I'm arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your tongue all over me.

• Wellhung: I'm dropping the bra. Now I'm licking your, you know, breasts. They're neat!

• Sweetheart: I'm running my fingers through your hair. Now I'm nibbling your ear.

• Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breasts are covered with spit and phlegm.

• Sweetheart: What?

• Wellhung: I'm so sorry. Really.

• Sweetheart: I'm wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my blouse.

• Wellhung: I'm taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a plop.

• Sweetheart: OK. I'm pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard tool.

• Wellhung: I'm screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee!

• Sweetheart: I'm pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.

• Wellhung: I'm pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over, in and out nibbling on you... umm... wait a minute.

• Sweetheart: What's the matter?

• Wellhung: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I'm choking.

• Sweetheart: Are you OK?

• Wellhung: I'm having a coughing fit. I'm turning all red.

• Sweetheart: Can I help?

• Wellhung: I'm running to the kitchen, choking wildly. I'm fumbling through the cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?

• Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.

• Wellhung: I'm drinking a cup of water. There, that's better.

• Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.

• Wellhung: I'm washing the cup now.

• Sweetheart: I'm on the bed arching for you.

• Wellhung: I'm drying the cup. Now I'm putting it back in the cabinet. And now I'm walking back to the bedroom. Wait, it's dark, I'm lost. Where's the bedroom?

• Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.

• Wellhung: I found it.

• Sweetheart: I'm tuggin' off your pants. I'm moaning. I want you so badly.

• Wellhung: Me too.

• Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately — our naked bodies pressing each other.

• Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.

• Sweetheart: Why don't you take off your glasses?

• Wellhung: OK, but I can't see very well without them. I place the glasses on the night table.

• Sweetheart: I'm bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!

• Wellhung: I have to pee. I'm fumbling my way blindly across the room and toward the bathroom.

• Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.

• Wellhung: I find the bathroom and it's dark. I'm feeling around for the toilet. I lift the lid.

• Sweetheart: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.

• Wellhung: I'm done going. I'm feeling around for the flush handle, but I can't find it. Uh-oh!

• Sweetheart: What's the matter now?

• Wellhung: I've realized that I've peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry again. I'm walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way.

• Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on.

• Wellhung: I'm touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your neck. Umm, I'm having a little trouble here.

• Sweetheart: I'm moving my ass back and forth, moaning. I can't stand it another second! Slide in! Screw me now!

• Wellhung: I'm flaccid.

• Sweetheart: What?

• Wellhung: I'm limp. I can't sustain an erection.

• Sweetheart: I'm standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on my face.

• Wellhung: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, my wiener all floppy. I'm going to get my glasses and see what's wrong.

• Sweetheart: No, never mind. I'm getting dressed. I'm putting on my underwear. Now I'm putting on my wet nasty blouse.

• Wellhung: No wait! Now I'm squinting, trying to find the night table. I'm feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames and your candles.

• Sweetheart: I'm buttoning my blouse. Now I'm putting on my shoes.

• Wellhung: I've found my glasses. I'm putting them on. My God! One of our candles fell on the curtain. The curtain is on fire! I'm pointing at it, a shocked look on my face.

• Sweetheart: Go to hell. I'm logging off, you loser!

• Wellhung: Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo!

• Sweetheart: < CLICK! >


On a Northwest Airlines flight to Boston during our recent hurricane "FRAN". The captain did his best to skirt the edge of the storm, but it was a pretty rough ride just the same — rough enough that the flight attendants were ordered to strap themselves into their seats for about half an hour, and many of the passengers were putting the little plastic-lined bags in their seat pockets to good use. When the turbulence finally abated, the flight attendants unbuckled themselves, and the captain's voice came on over the intercom.

"Well, folks, that was quite some ride, wasn't it? But we came through it fine, just the way we always do, and I'm happy to report that it looks like the remainder of our trip should be much calmer. On behalf of myself and today's flight crew, I'd like to thank you very much for your calmness and cooperation, and extend our best wishes for a pleasant stay in Boston."

After a short pause and several clicks......

"Jesus Christ — whadda bitchin' ride! Boy — I sure could use a cup of good strong coffee and a blow job, right about now."

As a stricken stewardess dashed up the aisle to the cabin to inform the captain that his intercom was still on, one of the passengers called after her, "Don't forget the coffee!"

By Dave Fore

10. E-mail flames from some guy named "Fluffy".

9. Traces of kitty litter in your keyboard.

8. You find you've been subscribed to strange newsgroups like alt.recreational.catnip.

7. Your web browser has a new home page:

6. Your mouse has teeth marks in it... and a strange aroma of tuna.

5. Hate-mail messages to Apple Computer Corp. about their release of "CyberDog."

4. Your new ergonomic keyboard has a strange territorial scent to it.

3. You keep finding new software around your house like CatinTax and WarCat II.

2. On IRC you're known as the IronMouser.

and the #1 sign your cat has learned your Internet password...

1. There are little kitty carpal-tunnel braces near the scratching post.

by John Scalzi

What Are You Thinking?

The question this time, from the men's side of the table: what should you do when the women you're with asks you: "What are you thinking?"

Every male in the world has had to deal with this question, which is more often than not uncorked at entirely inappropriate times, such as when you are watching sports, locked in a passionate embrace, or reeling in a feisty marlin from the Gulf of Mexico. Regardless of what you're doing, you must come up with a complete and satisfactory answer, or stand accused of Hiding Your True Feelings. Which means, of course, you'll spend the next week pretending to be sorry. So you've got to come up with something. And it had better be good.

Now, the obvious question here is: WHY do women want to know what we're thinking? Simple: they assume we're thinking in the first place. Hard to believe, but there it is.

Why on earth would they think that? Well, go up to a woman and ask her what she is thinking. I have just done so with my wife, and this is what she is thinking about:

"Off the top of my head, I'm thinking about the party we're having Saturday, and how I'm going to fix that chandelier in the front room so that people can walk around without hitting their heads. Underneath that I'm thinking about my work schedule this week and whether or not I'm going to have time to do some of the things I need to do at home as well. And under that I'm wondering if it's too late to get tickets on a plane to Ohio for Christmas. AND I'm thinking about getting a snack."

Not only is she thinking about something, she's thinking about four separate things. If I check back in five minutes, she'll still be thinking. Women are always thinking, and often about practical things.

Men, on the other hand, are actively thinking for about five minutes out of every hour (usually not in sequence). So, at best, you have a one in 12 chance of catching a man actually having a thought. What are we thinking about?

  1. Sex
  2. Food
  3. Steve Miller tunes
  4. Sports
  5. "Beavis and Butthead"
  6. Sex
  7. Work
  8. The black unknowable nothingness that frames our existence, and whether a benevolent and omnipotent higher power can possibly exist within it (or Beer)
  9. Sleep
  10. Sex

In summary, randomly asking a man what he's thinking has precisely a 8.83% chance of turning up a real, verifiable, honest-to-God thought. You might as well bet on the New York Jets. Sound harsh, guys? Fine. Quick—what are you thinking? Had to think about it, didn't you. You lose. Sit down.

Despite the overwhelming evidence that men, in fact, are almost never thinking, women will still demand to know their innermost thoughts. In a way, it's touching; women are expressing faith that, if prodded long enough and frequently enough, they may yet boost the number of times we think in an hour. And they will. Unfortunately, most of what we'll be thinking is "stop asking me what I'm thinking." And that's just going to get us in trouble.

The best way to keep a woman from constantly asking you what you are thinking is to have a ready, pre-memorized answer for the times that she does. Here are some tried and true responses, with the pros and cons of each:

• "I'm thinking that tonight it'd be nice to stay at home and sit by the fire together."

Pros: Romantic; Sounds as if you're spontaneous.
Cons: Requires fireplace (or a cement floor and ventilation); Romantic moments often prompt even more "What are you thinking" queries.

• "I'm thinking how much I love you."

Pros: Generally provokes a positive response that short circuits any need for further conversation; Is often also true.
Cons: If you use it too much, she'll know it's a line, and then you're really in trouble.

• "I was wondering if there is actually life on other planets."

Pros: Cosmic; Shows you are a deep thinker.
Cons: Woman may wonder if this is an intro to the same sort of "alien sigmoidoscopy" story that ruined her last relationship.

• "I was imagining, if I were an animal, what sort of animal I'd be."

Pros: Imaginative; Allows woman to spend many happy minutes trying to establish your place in the animal kingdom.
Cons: She might think you resemble a marmoset or skink; She may forego the animal world altogether and go straight to yeasts.

• "I'm just thinking about how true the lyrics to 'Dust in the Wind' really are."

Pros: Shows depth of musical knowledge; As last resort to forestall conversation, you may break out into song.
Cons: If she's a connoisseur of 70s melodic rock, you may find yourself in a bitter, divisive quarrel about which is deeper, "Dust" or Aerosmith's "Dream On".

Keep in mind that these responses are not to supersede an actual thought. If you find yourself having one at the moment she asks, go ahead and share it, as long as it's not something along the lines of "This relationship blows" or "I really like margarine". With a little practice, you should come out okay.

But, hey. That's just what I think.

by Massad Ayoob

The media, both entertainment and news, have grotesquely skewed the public image of women who choose to responsibly own firearms for self-defense. Unfortunately, constant exposure to public image can affect self-image. That can be dangerous, whether the result is a woman who becomes anorexic or a woman who allows herself to be talked out of exercising her absolute right to effective personal protection.

This Armed Woman's Attitude Test is offered in the hopes of putting some of the false images into a proper perspective. Please circle A, B, or C in answer to each question.

  1. What is the real meaning of that pink T-shirt with a revolver on it that says, "The ultimate in feminine protection?"
    1. Obviously a plot by seditious gun fanatics from the NRA.
    2. Ultimate force equals ultimate personal protection.
    3. A 9mm for "light days" and a .44 Magnum for "heavy days".

  2. For rape and assault prevention, a whistle is:
    1. All you'll ever need.
    2. Next to useless with nothing to back it up.
    3. The signal to "Fire!"

  3. The movie "Thelma & Louise" was:
    1. An insidious Hollywood plot to stamp out femininity and glorify mindless violence by women.
    2. A female buddy film that included allegories of empowerment.
    3. A training film.

  4. What was technically wrong with the scene in "Thelma & Louise" where the two women disarmed a Texas State Police Officer?
    1. Real women would never do anything as tacky, tasteless, and altogether gauche as pointing guns at a man, let alone taking his icky, disgusting gun for their own use.
    2. There is no Texas State Police per se, but rather a Department of Public Safety that includes a Highway Patrol; they do not authorize the .45 1911 auto for carry except by Texas Rangers; the ammo on the officer's belt was revolver cartridges in single loops, not appropriate auto pistol ammo in magazines.
    3. The dumb broads left a perfectly good shotgun clamped to the dashboards of the cruiser.

  5. A mouse runs across the kitchen floor. The proper response it to:
    1. Climb onto a high stool and scream for a man to help you.
    2. Call the exterminator.
    3. Link up the belt feed to the M-60.

  6. You are discussing the depressing local crime statistics with your good-hearted neighbor, Ralph, who suggests that you buy a .25 caliber pistol for home defense. You reply:
    1. "Never! A woman who buys a gun has humiliatingly surrendered to the evil ethos of mindless macho sexist brute force!"
    2. "An amusing suggestion, Ralph, but don't you think it's a little light for the purpose?"
    3. "Only to plant in the dead hand of the next little weasel stupid enough to give me wimpy advice like that!"

  7. What is your reaction to the concept of a bra holster?
    1. "Yeech! It would be an obscene juxtaposition of the icon of death with the symbol of nurturing!"
    2. "Uncomfortable and impractical, designed by males for females."
    3. "Not a bad idea, so long as it doesn't get in the way when you reach for the MAC-10 submachine gun in your shoulder sling."

  8. Define "male."
    1. The first syllable of "malevolence," which in turn is only one letter short of "male violence."
    2. An individual of the opposite sex.
    3. A quaint anachronism, once useful for protection of females, but rendered obsolete by contemporary firepower.

  9. Where, in the scheme of things defensive, do such spray products as Mace and CapStun belong?
    1. Nowhere! If you just show your attacker compassion and understanding, you won't need nasty things like that.
    2. At the lower-threat levels of the Use of Force Continuum.
    3. In the medicine cabinet; real women use mace instead of Feminique.

  10. You are cornered in your home by a knife-wielding intruder. He ignores your command to halt, and charges you with the knife upraised. How many shots should you fire?
    1. None. It would be better to die than sacrifice moral victory by using "his" kind of force.
    2. As many shots as are necessary to stop the attack.
    3. A minimum of fifty shots. Hey, when is the next time you'll get a chance like this to express yourself, and get in touch with your feelings?


If 8 or more (80%) of your answers were "A", it is time to check into a Reality Clinic. Perhaps the meek will inherit the earth, but only when the rest of us are done with it.

If 8 or more of your answers were "B", welcome to the land of the well-adjusted adults who manage their own responsibilities with an appropriate level of power.

If 8 or more of your answers were "C", don't feel too bad. Society may not have a place for you, but Hollywood will, as soon as they start casting for the lead role in "Bride of Rambo".

by Scott Adams (creator of "Dilbert")

I get about 100 e-mail messages a day from readers of my comic strip "Dilbert." Most are from disgruntled office workers, psychopaths, stalkers, comic-strip fans — that sort of person. But a growing number are from women who write to say they think Dilbert is sexy. Some say they've already married a Dilbert and couldn't be happier.

If you're not familiar with Dilbert, he's an electrical engineer who spends most of his time with his computer. He's a nice guy but not exactly Kevin Costner.

Okay, Dilbert is polite, honest, employed and educated. And he stays home. These are good traits, but they don't exactly explain the incredible sex appeal. So what's the attraction?

I think it's a Darwinian thing. We're attracted to the people who have the best ability to survive and thrive. In the old days it was important to be able to run down an antelope and kill it with a single blow to the forehead.

But that skill is becoming less important every year.

Now all that matters is if you can install your own Ethernet card without having to call tech support and confess your inadequacies to a stranger whose best career option is to work in tech support.

It's obvious that the world has three distinct classes of people, each with its own evolutionary destiny:

• Knowledgeable computer users who will evolve into godlike non-corporeal beings who rule the universe (except for those who work in tech support).

• Computer owners who try to pass as knowledgeable but secretly use hand calculators to add totals to their Excel spreadsheets. This group will gravitate toward jobs as high school principals and operators of pet crematoriums. Eventually they will become extinct.

• Non-computer users who will grow tails, sit in zoos and fling dung at tourists.

Obviously, if you're a woman and you're trying to decide which evolutionary track you want your offspring to take, you don't want to put them on the luge ride to the dung-flinging Olympics. You want a real man. You want a knowledgeable computer user with evolution potential.

And women prefer men who listen. Computer users are excellent listeners because they can look at you for long periods of time without saying anything. Granted, early in a relationship it's better if the guy actually talks. But men use up all the stories they'll ever have after six months. If a woman marries a guy who's in, let's say, retail sales, she'll get repeat stories starting in the seventh month and lasting forever. Marry an engineer and she gets a great listener for the next 70 years.

Plus, with the ozone layer evaporating, it's a good strategy to mate with somebody who has an indoor hobby. Outdoorsy men are applying suntan lotion with SPF 10,000 and yet by the age of 30 they still look like dried chili peppers in pants. Compare that with the healthy glow of a man who spends 12 hours a day in front of a video screen.

It's also well established that computer users are better lovers. I know because I heard an actual anecdote from someone who knew a woman who married a computer user and they reportedly had sex many times. I realize this isn't statistically valid, but you have to admit it's the most persuasive thing I've written so far.

If you still doubt the sexiness of male PC users, consider their hair. They tend to have either:
  1. male pattern baldness — a sign of elevated testosterone
  2. unkempt jungle hair — the kind you see only on people who just finished a frenzied bout of lovemaking.
If this were a trial I think we could reach a verdict on the strong circumstantial evidence alone.

I realize there are a lot of skeptics out there. They'll delight in pointing out the number of computer users who wear wrist braces and suggest it isn't the repetitive use of the keyboard that causes the problem. That's okay. Someday those skeptics will be flinging dung at tourists. Then who'll be laughing? (Answer to rhetorical question: everybody but the tourists.)

Henry Kissinger said power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. And Bill Clinton said that knowledge is power. Therefore, logically, according to the U.S. government, knowledge of computers is the ultimate aphrodisiac. You could argue with me — I'm just a cartoonist — but it's hard to argue with the government. Remember, they run the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, so they must know a thing or two about satisfying women.

You might think this was enough to convince anyone that men who use computers are sexy. But look at it from my point of view: I'm getting paid by the word for this article. I'm not done yet.

In less enlightened times, the best way to impress women was to own a hot car. But women wised up and realized it was better to buy their own hot cars so they wouldn't have to ride around with jerks.

Technology has replaced hot cars as the new symbol of robust manhood. Men know that unless they get a digital line to the Internet no woman is going to look at them twice.

It's getting worse. Soon anyone who's not on the World Wide Web will qualify for a government subsidy for the home-pageless. And nobody likes a man who takes money from the government, except maybe Marilyn Monroe, which is why the CIA killed her. And if you think that's stupid, I've got 100 words to go.

Finally, there's the issue of mood lighting. Nothing looks sexier than a man in boxer shorts illuminated only by a 15-inch SVGA monitor. If we agree that this is every woman's dream scenario, then I think we can also agree that it's best if the guy knows how to use the computer. Otherwise, he'll just look like a loser sitting in front of a PC in his underwear.

In summary, it's not that I think non-PC users are less attractive. It's just that I'm sure they won't read this article.


1. Be RICH
This is important for you, but not for her. For her the number 2 rule follows.

2. Spend MONEY on HER
This is the most important thing for her, whether you are rich, have any money, or must lie, steal, or kill to do it.

3. Be TALL
Of course you have no real control over this, but if you don't do it, she will secretly and forever resent you for it and it will come out of left field to smite you. Preferably be about 1 foot taller than her — not for comfort or aesthetics, but because you are a trophy and, as always, the bigger the better.

Forget what you've heard about submissive women. They actually rule every relationship with insidious and painful, passive-aggressive, guilt-evoking, whiny, crying mind-control.

She will be impressed and enraptured by your delight at the sight of Hello Kitty, stuffed animals, puppies, kitties, duckies, bunnies, as well as chocolates, shiny jewelry and other trinkets and knick-knacks. Also, she will understand perfectly well if you pout over the smallest perceived slight or slip and demand to be appeased, assuaged, or made up to. If you behave any other way, she will never understand it.

6. Dress like a PRETTY-BOY GEEK
This will save her the trouble of replacing your wardrobe and dressing you herself.

The sight of a whisker on your face reminds her that somewhere inside you, something is trying to grow. You must not grow — you must be as unchanging and constant as the firmament.

8. There are NO MORE RULES to making your girlfriend eternally happy
If any situation arises which you feel the rules have not addressed, you are mistaken — immediately refer to the primary rules #1 and #2 — they are the solution in every such case.

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