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Clean And Funny Jokes - A clean joke everyday. new
(Added: 18-Nov-2008 Hits: 0 Rating: 0 Votes: 0) Rate It

  • Thu., November 20th, The Airplane Ride
    Fred and his wife Edna went to the state fair every year. Every year Fred would say, “Edna, I’d like to ride in that there airplane.” And every year Edna would say, “I know Fred, but that airplane ride costs ten dollars, and ten dollars is ten dollars.” One year Fred and Edna went to the [...]
  • Wed., November 19th, Explosive Fishing
    A man was out in the middle of a lake using dynamite to fish. He would light a stick, throw it overboard, wait for the explosion and then pick out the dead fish that floated to the top. A game warden saw was he was doing and quickly rowed his dory out to the fisherman. [...]
  • Tue., November 18th, The Eager Banker
    A bank manager was walking by a new teller and was impressed with the enthusiastic way the teller was counting a stack of hundred dollar bills. He walked over the man and congratulated him on his work ethic. ?Son,? he began, ?you remind me of myself when I was your age. It would appear that we [...]
  • Mon., November 17th, Problem Drinker
    A man goes into a bar and seats himself on a stool. The bartender looks at him and says, “What’ll it be buddy?” The man says, “Set me up with seven whiskey shots and make them doubles.” The bartender does this and watches the man slug one down, then the next, then the next, and so [...]
  • Sun., November 16th, The Good Samaritan
    A good samaritan was walking home late one night when he came upon this drunk on the sidewalk. Wanting to help, he asked the drunk “do you live here?” “Yep”. “Would you like me to help you upstairs?” “Yep”. When they got up on the second floor, the good samaritan got to thinking that maybe [...]

The Annekenstein Monster - Comedic performer Rob "Annekenstein" MacDonald comments on just about everything. pop
(Added: 11-Jul-2004 Hits: 771 Rating: 6.88 Votes: 26) Rate It

  • Transgender Remembrance Day
    Did you know that today is Transgender Remembrance Day?Me neither.Lest We Forget.
  • I hate movie scenes like this...
    I was watching a not very good movie last night. The second Nicolas Cage Treasure Hunter movie, whatever it's called.The following would be considered a spoiler, if you haven't seen the movie yet.At one point Nic kidnaps the POTUS. Nobody...
  • Chimp - The Living End - Music Video
    So, Dave Stewart and I formed a band a decade or so ago. The band is called Chimp. Way back then, we recorded a baker's dozen of original songs. We recorded them in my living room, using a 4-track cassette...
  • Now, Where Did I Put That Dance Belt?
    According to yesterday's CBC News article about the upcoming summer season of the Charlottetown Festival: Sketch-22 heads for the Big DanceLocal comedy troupe Sketch-22 has been picked up by the festival. The group will perform at the Mack Theatre."This is...
  • Chimp - Thundercrack! - November 15
    Wait for it!!

Truths and Half Truths - Author, playwright, actor, nationally-syndicated TV and radio commentator Nils Ling. pop
(Added: 9-Jul-2004 Hits: 584 Rating: 1.50 Votes: 2) Rate It

  • Wed., October 15th, Allie and Fred
    After the wedding post, some folks (Canadians and ex-pat Canadians) expressed surprise and awe that Allie actually knows Fred Penner.Years ago, when Allison was very small, I worked at CBC in Winnipeg. The department where I worked was adjacent to...
  • Tue., October 7th, So, That Went Well
    When Allison was in elementary school, she was in a string orchestra called the Singing Strings. Shortly after she joined the orchestra, the conductor - John Clement, who became a mentor to Allison (and many others) - passed out music...
  • Tue., September 23rd, First Glimpse
    Still surrounded by family, so no time for a full post. But I wanted you to see my little girl on her big, big day ...It went spectacularly well, and I'll have much more to say about it very soon....

Glamor Girl Gone Bad - Funny blog from "Cool Girl".
(Added: 1-Dec-2004 Hits: 555 Rating: 8.80 Votes: 5) Rate It

  • I recommend this
    If you ever have a free couple of hours, I totally recommend this:

    http://www.canadianletters.ca/collectionsMain.php

    I've been sucked in by a few of these guys.
    It's easily searchable, and you can find letters from your province, or your surname, or whatever.

    What gets me, all these years later, is how earnest these guys are. How simple.
    They are fighting for right, as opposed to wrong. They honestly know this, they believe this, in all their hearts.
    They love their mothers. They advise their sisters to maintain their chastity and take some "domestic courses". They truly, truly, fully believe what they are doing is the right thing.

    Many of them were killed.

    Their mothers, at home, were advised of this by a ridiculous telegram which had no details except, basically, "your son is dead."

    And yet, and yet, there is great humanity in these letters. Humanity which makes one think.

    I love this site.
  • Who wins the competition?
    Yes.

    So this week was The Boy's 23rd Birthday.

    I cannot believe that it was 23 years ago that I was walking around like a stuffed turkey, barfing all day long, losing feeling in my legs, trying to push a little bum out of my rib cage, trying to convince myself that I looked perfectly thin "from behind" and totally missing those stretch marks because they were on the underside of that massive basketball that was my belly and not immediatly visible to my naked eye.
    Not to mention those boobs. Those boobs, baby! Now they were hot!
    Where does the time go?

    Anyway. I always get a bit maudlin on the occassion of The Boy's Birthday. Perhaps because I have only one child, as opposed to, say, 15, as my grandmother had, or five, as my mother had.

    I generally set my internal alarm to wake up at 4:13 a.m. to relive the wondrous experience yet again, since that was the time he was born.
    As opposed to me. Who doesn't know what time she was born because neither of her parents could remember! You tell me, how could parents worth their salt FORGET what time their child was born? Especially such a special child as myself?
    They couldn't even NARROW IT DOWN when I asked, which was many times, because I wanted to do an accurate horoscope to further navel gaze at my wonderousness, after I had memorized every trait of the Pisces species, and of course you need the time of birth to do that. But no, all I ever got was this: "Well, I know it was a snowstorm."
    Horoscopes don't work on weather, parents! Geeze.

    Anyway, as I said, I get maudlin on The Boy's birthday. I relive personally the whole experience and then regale the child with the whole story of his birth and how I thought he was retarded because he didn't cry for three days, and immediately rolled his eyes back in his head as if the world was too much for his gentle soul, and went to sleep. And how I was prepared to love a retarded child, and how he was the best looking baby in the nursery, and how I felt all the other parents MUST be so jealous because I had this bald-headed chicken, and they did not. He was bald until he was three.

    He seems to enjoy hearing this story every year.
    By the way, he weighed seven pounds, two ounces (probably because I smoked up to, during, and directly after, the birth) and was 21 centimeters long. Today, he weighs 200 pounds and is six feet, three inches tall. (So smoking is good).

    Anyway, Wednesday was his Birthday. And I wanted to make it special. Because, of course, we all know he is going through a rather difficult time, what with his Dad and all. Plus, he wrote off his car. By mistake.
    And he is only a student and living with his Dad, who is in hospital not in very good shape, leaving the household finances somewhat of a mess. I have been phoning him every single day, which is unusual for us, and more or less harassing him, which he is not used to, but I worry about his well being.

    So the day before The Boy's Birthday, I phoned him up to suggest lunch. He wasn't entirely sure he could fit me into his busy schedule, what with school, his dying Dad, his new girlfriend, and basketball practice. But he said he would call me on the morning of his birthday to see if, possibly, we could do lunch.

    So he did call, and he could fit me in!
    His favorite place for lunch is the buffet at Pizza Delight. No lie. So is it my fault that, on the occassion of your birthday, you eat FREE at Pizza Delight? No! I can't help it if I did not pay for his lunch. It was FREE! For his birthday! So the lunch cost $12.45. Which was my buffet. And it was good, too.

    Smartly, before lunch, I had found a free website. Where one could enter the birthdate, especially the TIME of birth, and get a full and revealing horoscope reading. So I did that, for him, on the occassion of his birthday. Because I remembered he was born at 4:13 a.m. It was nine pages long and I brought it along for lunch. We read it together and marvelled at the accuracy of the thing.

    When my husband had his birthday in March (he is a Pisces, too) his mother got him the most beautiful card I had ever seen from a mother to a son. We both thought it was so lovely, I told her it almost brought me to tears. So she immediately went out and searched for one, for me, to give to My Boy. After several months, trying to remember where she bought the Damned thing, she found its twin. So she bought it, for me, to give to my son, on the occassion of his birthday.

    It's still at her house.
    I was supposed to pick it up, but I didn't have the car that day, so I couldn't get there in time. However, I told The Boy all about it. And he laughed.

    Then he revealed that the only thing he wanted, from me, for his birthday, was a DVD of some video that I had of him doing burn-outs in his Mazda 200zx that I had bought for him in high school, back when I was rich. He thought it would be a blast to see him driving that long-lost car, doing burn-outs in the parking lot.

    So I said I would do that, poste haste.
    That afternoon, I arranged the dubbing of said video and told him I would drop it off at his house that evening, on my way home from work.

    I arrived at his house. In the driveway, talking to The Boy, was one of his step-dads. He has several of those, as we already know. This particular step dad and I don't actually speak, much, due to traumas too stupid to get into.
    This was the step-dad that was dead set against me buying him a Mazda 200zx when he was younger. Actually, he was dead-set against me buying The Boy anything at all, and felt that raising children (well, this child, because he had none of his own) should be loud and rude.
    We won't get into that.
    The step-dad saw me, and left immediately and somewhat uncomfortably

    However.

    He had left a car.
    For The Boy, on the occassion of his 23rd Birthday.
    Seems he had bought himself a new car, so decided to give The Boy his old car, as a gift. Since unfortunatly The Boy had written off his own car, by mistake, and couldn't afford to drive his Dad's great big Penis truck.

    Also, he had left $900, as a further birthday present.

    Kinda put my free lunch and DVD to shame.

    But The Boy teased me, and laughed at me, and made me feel like it was not a competition, at all, for his love.

    When I left, I knew, in my deepest heart of hearts, that my Boy loved me, completely, despite the free lunch, the un-picked up card, and DVD.

    And if other people love him, too, I feel truly that that's a good thing. God knows most of us are fighting for love in this life.

    Meanwhile, I must remember to get that birthday card from my mother-in-law in time for Christmas. Because it is a really nice card.





    .
  • Random Thoughts
    Random thoughts going through my ridiculously overactive brain:

    I Cannot Die.

    Now that The Boy is losing one parent, and I know how it feels to be half an orphan, it occurs to me that I have a responsibility to live a very long and very fruitful life, for his sake, if not for my own.
    Because it would be so horribly unfair to leave a child an orphan - - - no matter how old they may be.
    They are always your baby.
    I must exercise, eat right, give up smoking, and LIVE.
    Although the luxury of living a decrepit life and saying "to hell with it all" will always be a temptation, I now have double responsibility to stay alive, stay healthy, and stay stable. For The Boy.

    Even though, when he gets married and has my grandchildren, he probably won't trust me to babysit because he knows, from personal experience, that I can - - and will - - serve Chocolate Cake for breakfast.

    My Dog has Fleas.

    And I have to figure out the most proper, environmentally sensitive, non-toxic, but EFFECTIVE way of killing the motherfuckers before they drive me and my dogs crazy and have our house snapped with the quarantine sign that should possibly have been tacked to the door three months ago.

    I Hate My Dogs, But Love Them Too.

    They ruin my life is so many ways.
    They keep us tied to the homestead.
    Who on God's Green Earth would willingly babysit three incredibly indulged, spoiled, monsterly large dogs that think the marital bed is their bed, too?
    Who, although they are good, have never actually been to obedience school?
    Who are, hmmm, how do I say this, without hurting their feelings, suffering from a minor form of what they used to call it when The Boy was a child, "social anxiety disorder"?
    They don't know how to function out of the confines of our own acreage, nor should they, necessarily, but they tie me down.
    They tie us down as though we had three two year olds who will never grow up.

    Yet, I Love Them. They make me happy with their goofy, unconditional adoration. And when I massage Juno's bad leg, he is so happy and grateful.

    And I made a contract with each and every one of them: I will Love You Forever. It's not your fault someone abandoned you. And I will love you, now. And I will.

    A lot of people don't understand that stupid contract. But I do.
    And so does my husband.

    My Husband is Nice

    Say you married the Love of Your Life. And things were going swimmingly.

    Then say, the Love of Your Life's ex-spouse got sick and was dying, and the Love of Your Life started grieving and acting like an idiot? Crying and traumatized, worried about their son, wanting to go to his hospital bed, et cetera.

    Would you feel threatened?
    Would you feel The Love of Your Life didn't love you the way you thought she did?
    Would you think The Love of Your Life harbored secret feelings for her ex?

    I kind of think I might, in fact, feel those things.

    But The Love of My Life has not. He has done whatever possible thing he can do, and more.
    My Husband has been a rock.
    Can you imagine your spouse ranting on about a marriage to a man 20 years ago? I think it must be hard for him, and I tell him so, but he says "No".
    He understands that I am feeling the feelings of my child, and my past, and a man I like, and it hurts.

    I am always afraid that he will think that my grief is involved somehow in romantic feelings, but he understands, constantly, that my feelings are complex and revolve around our child, and the loss of a good man.

    His mother has been exactly the same.

    It is an impending death in the family, and it is being treated exactly as such.

    Everything Bad in My Life Happens in the Fall

    This is why I dread the fall.
    I recognized years ago that the fall marks the beginning of wrist-slashing season, for me. It's genetic, seasonal depression, that was passed down by my father. For many years I tried to avoid it, but sadly, it is unavoidable.

    Also, bad shit happens to me in the fall. Bad Shit.

    When I was nine years old, my grandmother, who lived with us and was as close to me as a mother, died in front of my eyes in October.
    It was the worst thing that ever happened to me in my life, up to, and including, now.
    I was nine, I couldn't get out of bed, I was such a mess I was not allowed to go to the funeral. I was shattered.

    My father had massive heart attacks in the fall. He had triple bypass surgery in the fall. He had another massive heart attack in the fall. He had another open heart surgery, in the fall.

    My mother was told she was terminal, in the fall.

    I get depressed in the fall. My son gets depressed in the fall.

    And now, well, we all know what's happening this fall.

    I hate the fall.

    I Want to be a Lighthouse Keeper

    I hate housework. I'm not sure I was ever trained properly, in that regard. Therefore, I don't do housework, much.

    So I saw an ad in the newpaper for an elderly gentleman who wished to have a person come in to do some "Light house keeping".

    I was amused, so I read it to my hubby and mother-in-law.

    "Light house keeping," I said. "I could do that. Maybe. If it was light enough."

    "Lighthouse keeping?" she said.
    "I didn't think they had light houses any more."

    Yes, Lighthouse Keeping would be so much easier for me than light house keeping.

    That is what I want.

    Take me to my Lighthouse, and I will make sure that light is turned on at night.








  • A downer
    Downer alert: don't read if you don't like downer shit.

    So my son's Dad finally got an oncologist. When The Boy told me who the oncologist was, I immediately thought: "Oh shit, batman".
    This is the same oncologist my beloved saintly mother had, before she died of cancer, and he is so blunt he broke her heart.

    And so he of course did the same to The Boy and His Dad.

    Basically he said: "If he lasts a month, it will be a suprise. There is nothing to be done. Get your affairs in order and think now about your wishes regarding resusicitation."

    The Boy is alternately mad, sad, terrified, and traumatized, but mainly worried about how his Daddy feels about all this. His Daddy, being a highly introspective, quiet man, is not talking about it much.

    It is a very difficult time and as a mother, I wish I could fix it. But I can't.
    What can I do? I don't know.
  • Pulling My Hair Out
    I shouldn't be writing about this shit, but it's what I do to get my feelings out. I write.

    I am a mess. And of course, it's all about me. Right?

    No, it's not about me. It's about my little boy, who is 22. And his beloved Daddy, who is 47. And dying. In the QEH. Even as we speak.

    My little boy is trying so hard. So very hard to be a man right now. And I can't fix this for him. And that makes me MAD. I want to DO SOMETHING!!!

    All I can do is "practical" things, like give The Boy money when I have it, because his Daddy is no longer lucid, like try to help get Canada Pension started, try to guide him on disability E.I. payments for his Daddy, advise him on who the lawyers are, where the mortgage and car sickness insurance might be found, reassure him there is a will, and I am pretty sure I know where it is.

    But that is so damned meaningless. Meaningless!!!

    I also try to talk to The Boy about how to handle this.
    But its so damned fresh, for him. He has had about one to three days to go through shock, anger, denial, bargaining, and acceptance. And at each of those stages, I have to be careful what I say. Because I want to comfort The Boy. But not get his hopes up, at the same time. And try, desperately, to give him some meaning to this. If there is any to be found.

    My own self, I am more upset about this than I should be.

    I married this man when I was 21. I was six months pregnant with The Boy.
    I remember being in the delivery room, and this man stood by my side, held my hand, and when The Boy came out, and the doctor said "It's a Boy", that man jumped to the moon. He pretended he didn't want a girl, but when he got a boy, he grabbed that boy.

    Literally grabbed him that second in the delivery room and to tell the truth, I couldn't ever get him back.

    I remember the first Christmas we had him, when The Boy was six weeks old, we went to Midnight Mass. My ex-husband had several Christmas drinks under his belt, and we were in one of the front rows of the church, with my family. My ex-husband was swaying with the drink, a little bit. And The Baby was so very new. But he grabbed that baby from me. He was so bloody proud of his son. He grabbed that boy out of my arms and insisted on holding him in the church. And I watched him sway, a little bit with the drink, and I was so afraid he was going to drop him, my brand new baby, but he refused to give him back because he was so proud of That Boy and he wanted the world to know he had a son - THIS SON.

    And he has never stopped that, for 22 years.

    I, on the other hand, was not a good wife. I left him when I was 23. I will regret to my dying day that I hurt him by doing that. But although I liked him, and considered him a good man, I did not love him. In the way of love. And make no mistake - - - I hurt that man. Badly.

    But he never ever took it out on The Boy. Not once. When I was going through my "flapper 20's", he was there for The Boy, making sure he got a good breakfast and a good dinner. He even made sure he was enrolled in "his" elementary school, where he got a good education. He paid child support, and was nice to me, nicer to me than I ever deserved. Over the years, he earned my respect as a very fine man, and an excellent, fabulous, father.

    Then came the revelation that there was a biological mistake. And The Father wasn't, technically, the biological father. This was 16 years into the game, and you can only imagine what a blow that would be. To any man. How they might react.

    But still, that man stood up. He stood up and loved that Boy. And refused to let him go. He may have swayed a little bit while holding The Boy, but he didn't even think of letting him go.

    I remember once crying to him (probably out of guilt) saying: "You are his father, just like if we adopted him."

    And he snarled at me: "No! He is not my adopted son. I stood in the delivery room. He is my son!"

    And The Boy felt exactly the same way. Exactly the same way.

    So now he is dying. And The Boy is trying, desperately, to find some meaning to it.
    So am I.
    I told The Boy: "I believe your Dad's destiny might have been to be your Dad."

    Now, that the end days are near, I desperately want to go and see him.

    I want to tell him three things: 1. You are a good man; 2. You were the BEST father ever and The Boy is so lucky to have had you; and 3. You will go to heaven.

    But that is just my selfishness. And my guilt. It's my attempt to make myself feel better in a situation that no longer concerns me.
    If I believe in God and Heaven, then I have every hope that he will know those three things. And he doesn't need me, the woman who treated him so badly, to tell him that, to ease her own guilt.

    It is not about me.

    It's about our poor little son.

Profile PEI - the Jeremy Larter Story - Satirical web serial about hapless wannabe-screenwriter Jeremy Larter. New episodes every Monday.
(Added: 25-May-2008 Hits: 22 Rating: 0 Votes: 0) Rate It

  • Chindia 
    Jeremy runs into his old high schoole buddy, Scott Gallant, after a not-so-hot meeting with the unemployment officer.
  • Money Troubles 
    Jeremy runs into some financial difficulties
  • Duet 
    Jeremy and Kelly...in love for ever.
  • The Morning After 
    Loose Cannon - A good cop, bad cop film starring a trigger happy monkey and a straight-laced dolphin.
  • Fort McLennie  
    Jeremy and Graham pick up Lennie at the airport. Lennie is hot off the Fort McMurray Press and he's ready to rule the island.

Sketch-22 Blog - Sketch-22 is a PEI improv comedy troupe.
(Added: 16-May-2005 Hits: 402 Rating: 0 Votes: 0) Rate It

  • Trans Am?
    Hey, remember that blog post last spring about looking for a Trans Am? We're still looking. If anyone has a lead on this, please let us know. Again, we'd prefer a mid-late 70s Firebird, black with a phoenix on the...
  • Season 5's first video shoot a wrap
    With our first video in the can, it feels like Season 5 is officially underway. This photo was taken on March 25 at about 7:30 p.m. near Covehead Harbour. Despite the fact that we were on the north shore in...
  • Sketch-22 Season 5: Assignment: Miami Beach
    Here we go again! Sketch-22 Season 5 is officially underway. Several writers' meetings have been held and I am happy to report the material is as strange, shocking and outrageous as ever. But is it funny? Well, we never really...
  • Rusty & Jerome pt.2
    Jerome (Masenfer) Malone grew up on the streets. The streets of a middle class suburb outside of Fredricton. He began his directionless life of delinquency stealing apples and carrots from neighbours gardens. When he was old enough to ride a...
  • Rusty & Jerome
    Rusty Higgins was a rapscallion from his early youth. Always getting into to trouble in his Neighbourhood in Bristol. When he was 13 he was finally caught by his parents making little bombs and promptly sent to reform camp which...

You Are Now At The Centre Of The Known Universe - A thoroughly fabulous peek inside the glamorous world of LCM, Centre of the Known Universe, featuring my identical twin 39 year-old mother, Mumsey - and our talented troupe of escaped criminals now rehabilitated into mimes, all helpfully named Marcel.
(Added: 28-Aug-2004 Hits: 471 Rating: 0 Votes: 0) Rate It

  • I'm Sure It's Lovely, Dear

    Darlings,

     

    A friend e-mailed me this aft with all manner of news. Well, actually it was mostly a stream of filth and baseless accusations, interspersed with moans of how hard it is to paint a few crummy rooms. I smiled lovingly and responded thusly…

     

     

    Upon Hearing Of A Dear Friend’s Redecorating, by LCM

     

    There once was a lady who painted

    Though her tastes were more or less tainted

    She slapped it all on

    Then drank until dawn

    An elegant story, now ain’t it?”

     

     

    Smiling Lovingly, As I’m So Often Found Doing

    LCM

     

  • Let's See If This Still Works...

    Hello, darlings – just testing to see if could still post a blog entry from my Outlook.

     

    Patting Wig, Looking Fabulous

    LCM

  • Comebacks
    Dear Princess Lira,

    Thank you, sweetie, for you welcome back message. It's heartening to know that not everyone has forgotten about me. (smiling bravely through the tears) Come have a cocktail with me, darling - I feel a poem coming on...


    On My Preference For The Sea, by LCM

    Yes, I've been both there and here
    Seen the usual and the queer
    But nothing dares compare to this
    Here in our unfetered bliss
    I say to all, my friends and foe
    If you ask, I'll tell you "Go"
    I've held the world in both my hands
    In the ports of stranger lands

    I've spent my time with witty men
    But In the end, I pity them
    For at the docks, you'll find me beamin'
    In the company of seamen


    Tossing Head Back And Laughing In That Good Way I Have
    LCM
  • Words And Such
    Melanie, darling!

    How fabulous of you to drop by and compliment me on my vividness. As a resident of Texas, you surely know the how-you-say of the English language. (patting wig, passing Melanie a cocktail) So anyhoo, sweetie, I think I should write a poem about words. I mean, they're a fabulous tool for any modern gadabout, along with the icy smile and withering glare. Let's see what I can come up with...


    The Slower Wit, by LCM

    I often say, I will admit
    My words see me in deficit
    When bright young things as you, my dear
    Wearing such and so, come near
    "Oh how pretty!" I'll profess
    Gazing at your latest dress
    "It couldn't be just off the racks"
    "I've been to Macy's and to Sax"
    "You've been sewing, true it rings"
    "Who knew machines could do such things?"
    But when you saunter off, impressed
    I tell the others "What a mess."
    "The salesman was an evil jester"
    "To put a cow in polyester."

    Patting Wig, Looking Fabulous
    LCM
  • Are You Slanky, Darling?
    Sweeties,

    I recently wrote a poem for my slanky friend Cindy and then forgot to include a proper definition for the word.

    Slanky means slinky. Except only in the extreme past tense. It's the sort of word you might use if you were to be standing next to the pyramids - or the Acropolis - or even Cher. It's a tremendously fabulous word, and I encourage you all to use it with wild, yet elegant abandon.

    Helping The English Language Be More Relevant To Today's Caustic Bitch
    LCM

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