Britney Spears

October 28, 2007

Some people just shouldn’t become famous.  This poor kid got famous when she was what…..zero?  She’s had a bodyguard almost the entire time she’s been conscious.  Ever since her first hit song, I bet she’s been told “No” about 3 1/2 times, because she is surrounded by people who are paid to tell her yes.  There is no such thing as a personal, private moment ever for her because every person she ever comes in contact with, including her husband(s), will sell her out to the highest bidder in a New York minute if she pisses them off.  She can’t take a dump without worrying about the press trying to hide a camera in the commode, for God’s sake!  Think about it.

People wonder why she always plays to the camera and doesn’t seem to take the custody hearings seriously.  Hell she has absolutely NO idea what is really going on.  In the years during which she should have been forming her adult personality, she was being courted by sycophants and leeches.  She was being cared for by hired help and yes men.  There was not one ounce of reality in her life anywhere.  For her, she IS taking this seriously.  For her entire adult life, the way to deal with any crisis was to get more press! 

As for drug and alcohol abuse, when you have “handlers”, it’s my belief that it becomes far easier for them to handle you if they can control you.  If you never open your own drink, or fix your own meals, it’s easy for people to make you whatever they want you to be.  And in an altered state it’s hard to gel your thoughts enough to realize what’s happening.

Anna Nicole Smith is a perfect example of what happens to isolated stars when there are no outsiders around to check on what goes on.  Britney Spears is everybody’s favorite target recently and we ridicule her relentlessly.  But she is VERY young and she has had nothing that remotely resembles a normal life.  I can’t imagine how we can expect her to react normally to a situation when she has no skills under her belt for normal life. 

Maybe……If you could get her to spend a night at a Holiday Inn Express……………..!!!


Random Thoughts and Other Brain Junk

October 27, 2007

If I spend too much time on my own, I think.  This is never a good thing.  If you have ever read any of my blogs, you already know this.  If you haven’t, you might want to turn back now, for your own sanity.  This could get ugly. 

Don’t name your kid Robin Banks.  It could lead to trouble.  Along the same lines, if your last name is Clutter, best not to name your daughter Lotta.  Children are cruel. 

I have actually said this…….Stop throwing daddy’s underwear at your sister!

And this……..If you lock her in that cage and the neighbors have to get her out one more time!  grrrrrrr

And this……..No, honey, it’s really not ok if you hurt your brother when we get home.  I know, baby, I want to too.  But we can’t, no matter how much we want to.  (this is accompanied by snickers from the back seat)

I recently realized that I have the ability to become invisible!  That’s right!  And if you have teenaged children, you too can accomplish this amazing feat.  All you have to do is take them out in public, which they will beg and plead for you to do.  Immediately upon doing so, you will become……(insert drumroll here)…..INVISIBLE!!!!!  You will no longer be seen or heard until you again reach the confines of your home.  Incredible, right?  I thought so too.  (the invisibility cloak effect CAN be overcome if said teenager needs funds that only you can provide…..this is in fact a good time for YOU to teach them that THEY can also become invisible! *giggle*)

I sometimes like to wake the kids up by shaking them and pretending to talk while only moving my lips.  Freaks them out and makes them think they can’t hear.  (and I wonder why they hate me)

If I hate what my kids are wearing, I tell them that it’s the coolest outfit I’ve ever seen.  They will immediately go to their rooms and take it off.  I keep doing this until they put on something acceptable.  At that point I begin to grumble about it being inappropriate and how much I hate it.  It would take dynamite to get it off of them then.

White wheat bread rules.  Kids can’t tell the difference.  It’s my kind of sneaky.

Droughts suck.  Rain rules…..unless it rains too much…..then rain sucks.  It’s a thin line, ain’t it?

These words actually came out of my mouth and I wasn’t even drunk……….”It’s an ASH tray not a TRASH tray, put that hair on the floor where it belongs.  (………….ok, I was going to try but I have no excuse and no defense for this one except that it was a long time ago and I have brain damage) (wonders if the brain damage card will play this time)

I wonder about myself sometimes.  I really do.  I mean, near as I remember I wasn’t even sweeping or vaccuuming or anything when I said that last one!  I shock myself!  Good Lord I hope that was the worst thing I ever said like that, because I will tell on me in a heartbeat!  You see how I am!  I obviously have no shame!

Pick your battles. 

Sometimes, the ass whooping is worth it.  I learned this from my ex.  We went out to a honky tonk one night and he told me that I was cramping his style.  To which I replied, “You have no style.”  Sometimes, the ass whooping is worth it. *giggle*  I frame that look on his face in my imagination to this day.  (public service announcement: don’t live like that.  you already know better.  act on it.  “but I love him” is not an excuse   poison is poison and eventually it will kill you)

I want to raise chickens.  My Dearest Husband fears that if I do, he will come home one day to find me and the kids doing a chicken dance out in the back yard.  He’s probably right.  But that’s what he likes about me.  I ain’t normal. 

Why was Beaver and Wally’s last name Cleaver?  Kinda creepy, wasn’t it?

I wonder if Alfred Hitchcock ever got laid.  I mean, he was like beaucoup famous and rich.  But not really so very attractive.  But then, to a certain kind of person, money is a damn good lookin thang, right?  So he probably did.  EW!  Go away visual!  Go AWAY!!!!


Turtle

October 27, 2007

I just gave my cousin, Turtle,(I call him “my” cousin, he’s actually My Dearest Husband’s cousin, but there is a Turtle shaped space in my heart that only he can fill, therefore he is mine) the information to get to this sight to read this blog so I thought that I would write some things down that I have been thinking about for quite some time now, that pertain to him and other veterans.

Most of this will be only my own thoughts on the matter and not anything I know as fact, so if I’m wrong, feel free to correct me. 

Turtle has served our country in several capacities in several places for quite some time now.  I can’t describe him to you physically because, like My Dearest Husband and most of the other people I’m very close to, I don’t really see  him with my eyes anymore.  I see him with my heart and he is massive. 

I can’t begin to imagine the situations he has found himself in or the unimaginable things he has seen or felt.  I can’t imagine how hard it would be to suddenly find yourself back home after being in the places he’s been.  The culture shock alone would have to be horrendous. 

I get so furious when I hear criticism of our troops or security forces like Blackwater by people who are on opposing sides from ours in a conflict.  I especially get infuriated by Americans who do it.  For the most part these people aren’t there in the situations they are criticising.  What they see is the sanitized version that has been edited for content and cleaned up for viewing on television in American homes.  They weren’t there when it all started.  They weren’t there three hours or three days before when the hinky feeling came over the guys there who are living off of their instincts.  They weren’t standing there charged with protecting someone else’s life when the bullets started flying.  They don’t know what it feels like, what it smells like, what it looks like, what it sounds like.

If you are bound by your sense of duty to your country, which incidentally is what allows you to be reading this blog to begin with and what allows me to write it-someone else’s sense of duty to our country and what it stands stood for, and you are sent to fight an enemy of that country and it’s values and rights, then you are bound to fight that fight to the best of your ability.  Should you then be expected to lose?  Should you be expected to do less than your best?   Should you take the time, while someone is shooting at you and the person/people that you are charged with protecting, to sort out exactly who is who?  How many guys who are or were in Afghanistan or Iraq have you talked to about what it’s like there?  How much do you actually know?  How many of the people talking about how awful the poor Iraqi people are being treated in a gunfight have ever actually been in a gunfight?  Hell how many have had a gun pointed at them?  How many have had one in their hand?  How many have seen, in real life, what a bullet can do to human flesh?  And that is just a bullet.  We won’t even talk about explosives. 

How dare you question what anyone does to survive in a wartime situation?  Unless you’ve been in a life and death situation yourself, you have NO idea what you would do.  I tell you this from experience.  And the next life and death situation might turn out different.  You simply never know.  You might be a hero today and a coward tomorrow and a hero the day after.  And eventually the soul learns to just shut down.  We are only made to take so much.  Eventually we have to protect ourselves.  So, even if you have been in a life and death situation, you have no right to judge anyone else.   

You take your children and put them in the most alien circumstances on earth, you make them watch, feel, hear, smell, taste the most horrendous things on earth, and then you think you have the right to question them on what they did or how they did it?  You infest their souls with the most excoriating things and then treat them like pariahs when they come home from where you sent them?  If you haven’t been in their shoes and seen what they saw and felt what they felt, you have absolutely NO right to judge them.  Don’t think you do.

If you are so up in arms about what is going on, why aren’t you in the streets trying to stop the fighting?  Where were you when this all started?  Where are you now?  You’re content to hold them responsible for doing what you sent them to do. 

It reminds me of one of the most forceful lessons I was ever taught in school  It was in Americanism vs. Communism class.  We walked in one morning to find a new list of classroom rights written on the board.  One by one, as we exercised the rights we were called out into the hall.  Eventually we figured out something was wrong.  Our instructor then explained to us that under a communistic form of government, the people had more rights than anyone anywhere in any country on earth.  But if they were foolish enough to try to exercise those rights they were imprisoned or executed, which is what had happened to those students who had been taken into the hall. (not literally, our teacher wasn’t that gung ho)

We can’t send soldiers into battle and think that the rules that apply in hometown America apply on the battlefield.  They don’t.  And it’s idiotic to expect them to.  You can’t win a war if you’re not willing to fight with everything you’ve got.  You might as well just decide to play a “winner take all” game of checkers if you’re going to try to regulate war by television.  And let’s face it folks, roadside bombings aren’t exactly playing fair.  We are fighting an invisible enemy in Iraq.  If you can tell who is who, why haven’t you called and let the Pentagon know?  This isn’t exactly a game of shirts and skins here.

The fact of the matter is, if the fighting was going on in Akron, Ohio instead of Baghdad, you would be worshipping at the feet of every American soldier you could find that would blow the head off of an Iraqi.  You would kiss the bare ass of every Blackwater employee on earth on the courthouse square at high noon with full press coverage.  And you would wish with all your might for 17 dead Iraqi civilians caught in the crossfire.  And don’t tell me you wouldn’t. 

And the next time the network news decides to make you cry over some casualties of war, you might want to try to remember how you felt while you watched the Pentagon burn, or the towers crumble one after the other, or maybe you should try to imagine how that guy felt just before he jumped off one of those towers.   The first thing that came into my mind when all that crap started over the civilians killed by Blackwater was that poor man who had a stock trading company in one of the towers.  He cried all day on TV over his employees who died.  He felt every one of those deaths.  It wasn’t his money he mourned.  It was the families, his friends, the people who died for no reason other than the fact that they went to work to make a living that day.

I don’t mean to sound callous or anything, but there is a war going on in their country and innocent people will die.  That’s really sad.  It would suck if it was happening here too.  But in my opinion, it would suck MORE if it was happening here.  I’m sure they would be happier if it was happening here.  I would feel that way if I were them. 

What bothers me more than that is the fact that we send our men and women over there and expect inhuman things from them.  Then we expect them to come back here where we don’t want to hear about it, we don’t appreciate what they’ve done, we don’t want to pay for their health care, we don’t understand what they’ve been through and don’t WANT to understand, and expect them to just slide right back into normal life, like they haven’t been though hell and back several times. 

Cripes we piss me off as a nation.  It’s like we sit down and try to decide what the most illogical thought pattern is in any given situation, then go with that!  WHAT THE HELL ARE WE THINKING?


Thoughts For The Day – October 26, 2007

October 26, 2007

Zero Tolerance = Zero Common Sense   This is just an excuse to keep from having to think for yourself.  Anytime a second grade student is suspended for a freakin stick figure drawing and children are banned from playing cops and robbers, we have gone way too far.

Chernobyl spread radiation through the atmosphere and it infested the wombs of all child bearing women as well as anyone with a functioning brain cell and we are seeing the results of that today in the following ways: Homeland Security, Political Correctness, the attack on smokers by lying drunken sex abuser politicians, the American people allowing this to happen, the fact that we allow sports figures to make millions of dollars to play a game but the people who educate our children barely make a living wage.  I could keep listing things until your momma spits up, but you get the point.

Fire should be regulated and taxed.  We should put Homeland Security on that right away. 

It is my own personal belief that Homeland Security is about as useful as windshield wipers on a cat’s ass.

It is also my own personal belief that Homeland Security will probably come knocking on my door some day because I’m a threat to…..well…..homeland security, due to my subversive nature.  And the fact that I have the audacity to say they are a crock of shit on the internet.  And that I believe they are the single greatest threat to the American people since 1776.  Any time Homeland Security is in charge of who gets to join the Mile High Club, you have a problem that needs solving, boys and girls.  Think about it.  Lucky for Homeland Security, not many of you read my blog!

If Homeland Security really wanted to secure the homeland, the first thing they would do is execute every treasonous bastard that had a hand in forming that organization in the first place.  Then they would arrest themselves for treason, and then vaporize the organization for all time.  THAT would be some homeland security!

Don’t let other people tell you what is okay and what isn’t.  Political Correctness is just someone else’s way of saying “Do what I want you to do or I’m going to make you feel bad about yourself.”  It’s schoolyard bullshit in it’s most refined form.  Don’t fall for it again.

FINALLY!  Someone had the dump-truck sized balls to say something in Blackwater’s favor!  Give that man a medal!  It’s the saddest thing in the world when it takes balls to say the simple truth.  Americans used to be known for that.  Now we’re not.  What does that say about us?

We need to take care of our soldiers and our veterans.  We need to take BETTER care of them.  We really don’t need to have this explained to death do we? 

Don’t be greedy.  It’s unattractive in the extreme.  Nobody likes that about you but you. 

Don’t be selfish.  It’s unattractive in the extreme.  Nobody likes that about you but you.

What goes around comes around.  Don’t be surprised when it comes back on you.  You might think you’re being slick right now, but it won’t look so good when you’re on the receiving end.

Play fair.  You learned this in first grade.  It still applies.  The rules didn’t change when you hit twenty-one.

If you can’t tell your grandma about it, you probably shouldn’t do it.

The spell-checker on a blog should include the word “blog” in its’ dictionary!  Seriously!


Aftermath-California Wildfires

October 25, 2007

The fires in California send me into flashbacks.  They also send me into flashforwards.  Is that a word?  If it isn’t it should be.  For a good portion of those people who lost their homes, this is just the beginning of a long downhill slide. 

We were incredibly lucky when our house burned down.  We all survived.  Physically we were for the most part intact.  Our friends came together in a way that was incredible, unheard of, remarkable.  Our community was stellar in its’ response to our needs.  It humbled me and made me so proud of where I live. 

When the smoke clears (yes, I went there) and everyone goes home, you are left on your own to deal with what’s left.  And you’re really not exactly sure what that is.  It’s been over a year and I can’t finish telling you about the fire because I want to pluck my eyeballs out of my face and stomp them into my ears so that I don’t have to see what I saw or hear what I heard anymore.  Did you know that burning puppies can scream just like burning little girls? 

Did you know that little girls can scream and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream until you think that that is the only sound left in the whole entire universe?  And did you know that when that sound stops it’s like a vacuum that sucks at your eardrums and makes you think you’ve gone deaf, even though you can hear all the other sounds around you?  You can tell yourself that you can hear other things but because you can’t hear that, you must be deaf, and no matter how many times you explain it to yourself, you can’t quite convince yourself that you can hear? 

And did you know that little boys can be so silent at the same time that you think they might never ever make another sound again until time stops?  And did you know that little boys will then start talking and never seem to stop even in their sleep, so that they won’t have to hear puppies and little sisters scream? 

Did you know that a man who crawled out of a house already so thick with smoke that you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face while you were on the floor, still thinks he should have done more?  Did you know that that same man, who was the only one who could make the screaming little girl stop screaming for one second to take a breath, could think that he hadn’t done enough and could feel shame every time he looked at his wife?  Did you know that that could cause deep trouble in a marriage that was otherwise strong for many, many years?

It seems like, once your things have been replaced, that you should just be able to get over it.  But I won’t ever be able to replace the pictures of my dead grandson.  Or the lock of his hair that they cut off of his head for me at the funeral.  There will be no more of those.  They are forever gone.  I can’t ever get back the pictures we took on what His Highness The Buddha called his idea of the perfect day.  They were on the computer that melted. (public service announcement: copy all pictures to disk and keep it some place else, you won’t regret it)  My Dearest Husband’s clock, the only memory he has of his father who died in VietNam when MDH was three, was damaged.  That clock can also never be replaced. 

We live with what ifs.  We live with if onlys.  They are everlasting.  They are devastating.  They can make you go quietly insane.  No one wants to hear this for over a year.  It’s depressing.  It’s sad.  It’s maddening.  It’s frustrating.

It’s hard when you’re riding down the road and someone is burning leaves and you slam on brakes and you become nauseous.  It difficult when you’re at someone else’s house and a smell catches your attention and you suddenly start to breathe hard and sweat and all you want to do is find a door and run.  You catch each other’s eye.  You want to cry.  You don’t want to leave home.  It feels shameful.  It’s embarrassing.  It’s painful.  It hurts.

The nighttime is bad.  When you wake up in the middle of the night and you don’t know if you’ve dreamed the sound or the smell or whatever woke you up, if you even KNOW what woke you up.  You’re terrified to open your eyes, but you know you have to because seconds are hours in a fire.  I’ve noticed at night that it’s always smokey looking to me now.  I never see clearly at night anymore, so when I wake up I have to walk the entire house and check everything in every room because I never know if the smoke is real or just my imagination.

I feel terrible guilt because our friends went so above and beyond the call of duty that no matter what I ever do there is no way I can ever repay them for what they did.  I feel inferior and not up to the challenge.  I feel so discouraged and unable that it’s difficult to even face them anymore.  As a result, we rarely ever even see any of them anymore.  That is the most heartbreaking thing of all.  We owe them so much and yet I can’t meet their eye.  I want to hug them and spend every waking moment with them, but I’m afraid that if I touch them I will smother them with my continuing need. 

I want to cry every moment I’m awake and I’m so sick to death of my crybaby ass that I want to beat myself to death just to shut me up. 

So I don’t talk about it anymore.  I pretend that everything is okay.  I laugh, I joke.  And I’m quietly losing my mind. 

I feel for the people in California.  I heard this morning that so far fifteen hundred housed have burned.  That’s fifteen hundred families who are going to begin a descent into a nightmare once the fires are out and the cameras turn off and everyone goes home.

Then those poor people are going to feel like every nerve ending in their bodies have been scraped with sandpaper, salted down and dosed with hot pepper sauce.  And they will be grinning like idiots during the whole thing because they won’t know what else to do.


Court Ordered Child Abuse

October 4, 2007

I watched the news today and saw a story about a foster child being sent into court ordered risk of child abuse.  I have first hand experience with exactly this issue.  It is both astonishing and sickening how many people will blindly send a defenceless child into danger simply because the letter of the law says to do so.  It sounds eerily similar to the Nazi’s claiming that they were only following orders. 

In the case of the foster child, he is 2 years old and has lived with the foster parents virtually his entire life.  His parents have lost all parental rights and the foster parents want to adopt him.  The birth father, a convicted pedophile who is a Mexican national, stated in court that when released from prison he intends to return to Mexico to live with his mother.  His birth mother never showed up for the hearing. 

However, before the foster parents can adopt him the state must try to find a blood relative who is willing to take him.  After a 2 year search, the mother of the pedophile finally agreeed to take the child.  Yes, this is the same woman that the pedophile father will be living with when he gets out of prison.  In another country.  Where the United States, the birth country of this 2 year old child, will have no jurisdiction.  And the state is actually defending their position of sending this AMERICAN child there and not letting him be adopted here by the only family he has ever known. 

He will be taken away from the only parents he has ever known and sent to a country he has never seen to live with people he doesn’t know, who speak a language he doesn’t understand.  And why are they even thinking about doing this?  Because the stated goal of Social Services Departments in this country is to keep families together.  NOT……I repeat NOT the welfare of children.  Look it up.

If this isn’t a case of court ordered child abuse I’ll kiss your ass on the courthouse square at high noon.

Did you know that if you have a child crossing a county line for visitation and they are abused, if you do not see the abuse yourself, and there is no physical proof of abuse, you cannot report it in your county?  Because YOUR county doesn’t have jurisdiction in any other county.  Think about that for a second.  This means that you have to literally stand outside the windows on the sidewalk peeking in and witness the abuse yourself in order to report your child being abused in another county.  Scary isn’t it?

Can you imagine what it would be like for a child to be sent into another country?  No offense to Mexico, I happen to love that country.  The fact that it’s another country just makes it exponentially more likely that he’ll be lost.   

We wonder why people are so much more violent than they were in the past.  It isn’t the availability of guns.  It isn’t violence in movies and on TV.  (although it might have something to do with the JackAss movies and Bam, but that’s another blog)  It isn’t even drugs.  For the most part those things are all symptoms and tools.  Until children are big enough to DO the things that catch our attention, we allow the most atrocious things to happen to them and we hide behind the letter of the law like that makes it alright.

It took My Dearest Husband and I years of anguish and pain, along with the help of an incredibly wonderful counselor who was willing to actually DO something, to finally get our daughter out of a sentence of court ordered child abuse.  And now we are seeing all the unfortunate effects of the time she spent in that hell.  She will never be who she could have been if there had been more people like her counselor.  She will never be the happy, light hearted little munchkin she was the first time I saw her.  With alot of hard work, she CAN be a fantastic, wonderful, caring, happy woman.  Unfortunately, she will have to fight a fight she had no business having to fight.  She should have been protected.  She wasn’t.  She was tossed under the wheels of the bus by the Social Services system who believes that the law is more important than the well being of children and that blood is more meaningful than love to a child.

What the hell are we thinking?


Random Thoughts October 3, 2007

October 4, 2007

Life is perception.  How we perceive an event is our reality of it.  One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor.  One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.  What you perceive as meaningless, someone else might perceive as the most meaningful thing in their life.  Pay attention to how those important to you perceive the events in your lives.  It counts.

Inaction is an action all by itself.  It indicates indifference on a massive scale. 

Why in the hell would anyone in this country with even ONE functioning brain cell think that Hillary Clinton would make a good president?  This is a woman whose self esteem is so low that she stayed with a man who cheated on her in front of the entire world on more than one occasion.  This can only mean one thing:  He will pay in front of the entire world, and he will pay big!  So, let’s put her in the White House?????  Is she planning on giving her VP a BJ on TV during a State of the Nation Address?  (Do you think I used enough acronyms in that sentence?)  Women who stick around after being treated that way have one thing in mind: revenge.  If Bill is smart (I know, I know, but it’s only a figure of speech) he would do something searingly outrageous and destroy her chances.  It might save his life.  And speaking as a woman myself, I can tell you this: Hillary remembers every one of you who have screwed her over.  You might not even be aware that you did. *see paragraph one*  And you will not get away unscathed either.  Kenneth Star, I’m especially talking to YOU!  She will smile for the cameras while she is listening in her earpiece to them tell her that the “package” has been deposited.  That will be you in the East River wearing a pair of cement overshoes, going to sleep with the fishes.  But only after she has caused them to make you scream like a girl.  Think about it guys.  Women are by far more vicious than men will ever be.  And we never forget a slight.  We certainly never forgive one.  Putting Hillary Clinton in the White House is like dressing up Brittney Spears and putting HER in the White House.  Sounds good, don’t it?

I wonder if the people that Blackwater were hired to guard and protect in Iraq want them gone?  I haven’t heard anyone ask them.  I haven’t heard any of them say.  I would love to hear the answer to those questions.  I also wonder who it was that Blackwater had with them at the time of the last big incident that caused all this hooohaaa.  I hate magicians because I feel like misdirection is inherently dishonest.  So this last big deal over Blackwater makes me wonder who was there and why all the fingers are pointing in so many different directions, but no one is saying who was with them. 

Why are children always at their most obnoxious when my head hurts?#$%^&*

What parents say and what kids hear are two completely different things.  example: Me-“Hi Honey, how was your day?”

Them-“Why R U gettin all up in my KoolAid?”  That wasn’t a good exchange at all was it?  We had no exchange of information, no exchange of pleasantries at all.  That’s because what they hear is not what we said.

Me-how was your day       translation:  What did you do that was wrong or that I’m going to get a call from your school about before the day is through?

No wonder the response is so vehement!  I have no solution for this distortion as yet, however I am working on it and as soon as I perfect the formula, I will put it on a paid programming commercial at 4:45am and you too can have it for 6 easy payments of JUST $19.95 plus shipping and handling! 

When we were kids our dad used to wake us up every morning and whip us before he went to work.  He did this because he knew that before he got home that night we would have done something to deserve it.  He was right.  I’m thinking about reviving that old tradition.  Either that, or take up drinking.  I’m not really sure which way I’m going to go yet.  I’m leaning towards the whipping, but I’m not sure I could stand all that whining and crying.  But after the first time or two, I’d probably cowboy up and stop doing that.  On the other hand, drinking would be so much less work for me.  *sigh*  decisions, decisions


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