Tag Archives: hollywood

#OscarsSoPretty – Why Are No Ugly People Nominated?

Hello 3.5 readers.

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BQB’s High School Yearbook Photo.  Ten takes and this was the best one.

Bookshelf Q. Battler, here to talk to you about a very sensitive subject.

By now you’ve heard of the “#OscarsSoWhite” controversy. For the second consecutive year, no non-white actors or actresses have been nominated for the entertainment industry’s most coveted prize.

As you’re all aware, I am a paragon of fairness, and while I’m loathe to throw stones, I’m pretty sure it is safe to assume, based on the criticism levied at this completely useless awards ceremony in which the mega rich and ultra glamorous pat one another on the back, that everyone in Hollywood has a klan robe hanging in their closet.

But I’m not here to talk about that issue.  This matter has already been widely reported and will be a part of the public dialogue for weeks to come leading up to the ceremony itself.

No, what I’m here to discuss is a question that’s loomed large on my mind my entire life but I’ve never had the courage to say anything about it until now:

WHY ARE THE OSCARS SO DAMN PRETTY?

There.  I said it and as an advocate for the ugly, it felt good.

The Academy assures us that it is taking steps to ensure that the Oscars will be more diverse in the future, an excellent move of course.  However, whether you’re black or white, asian or latino, or some other ethnicity, one thing is for certain:

IF YOU ARE AN UGLY PERSON, YOU’LL BE STRUCK BY LIGHTNING ON YOUR WAY TO CASH IN YOUR WINNING POWERBALL TICKET LONG BEFORE YOU GET NOMINATED.

Not convinced?  That’s ok.  You’re probably an attractive person. You suffer from “Attractive Person Privilege” and have thus lived your entire life oblivious to the plight of the ugly person.

You were always invited to parties.  Hell, people threw parties in the hopes that you’d attend.  People feel like their lives have been enriched if you simply walk past them.  If you get lost and take a wrong turn into a neighborhood you’re not familiar with, no one calls the cops on you to report that a damn C.H.U.D. is on the loose. You’ve never cried yourself to sleep after spending an evening researching the costs of various anti-uglification surgeries.

Yes, attractive person, you should definitely sign up for some ugly person sensitivity training, but in the meantime, just take a look at this year’s nominees and tell me that there isn’t a pro attractive person bias:

BEST ACTOR:  

LEONARDO DICAPRIO

Jesus H. Christ look at this guy. It’s like when he was being made in Heaven’s people factory, God got up off his ass, walked down to the assembly line, and personally supervised the production process.  Leonardo literally cannot take two steps down the street without being slapped in the face with a vagina.  That’s how badly women want him.

In The Revenant, Leo plays a man who gets the shit mauled out of him by a damn fat ass bear and then has to drag his mortally wounded carcass across miles of unexplored territory but somehow, he still manages to cast a striking figure the entire time.

I can tell you I have to go through an entire morning routine just to upgrade myself to C.H.U.D status so if I were mauled by a damn bear I’d just end up too ugly to even walk out of the house.

(Millennials, C.H.U.D. stands for “Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dweller.” They were in a horror movie in the eighties.  They’re very ugly.  Not only would a C.H.U.D. never win an Academy Award, but you’d never want to swipe right on one if you saw it on Tinder.)

MATT DAMON 

Shit.  What a handsome son of a bitch.  He’s so good looking that every movie he is in, from Saving Private Ryan to The Martian, is about all the time, money, and effort entire teams of people are willing to expend just to get him back whenever he’s lost because that’s just how precious he is to everyone.

Do you know what The Martian would be like if I had been cast in the lead role? The entire movie would be one minute long and it’d be a bunch of dudes at NASA saying, “F$%K that I’m not going to put in overtime just to retrieve an ugly guy.  That ugly bastard can rot on Mars for all I care.”

Saving Private Ryan? Tom Hanks leads his men into enemy territory to rescue Matt Damon.

Saving Private Battler? Tom Hanks would let the Nazis keep me.

ANY QUESTIONS?

“BUT BQB, BRYAN CRANSTON WAS NOMINATED FOR TRUMBO AND HE’S NOT ALL THAT HANDSOME.”

No, but he’s not ugly either.  Believe it or not but it is possible to be in a gray area where you’re not a suave ass baller but you’re also not a C.H.U.D.

You can be just an average looking guy or gal and be considered for an Oscar.  It still isn’t as easy it is for attractive people.  You have to work extra hard, be in the business for years, take self-deprecating roles like Cranston did as the dumb Dad on Malcolm in the Middle.  If you do all that then maybe, just maybe, they’ll think about handing you a little gold statue if, but only if, you’re lucky enough to get cast in a role that you act the shit out of, like Cranston did in Breaking Bad.

Do all that and MAYBE JUST MAYBE you’ll get a nod as an average person.  Forget it if you’re a hideous mutant.

“BUT BQB, EDDIE REDMAYNE WON AN OSCAR LAST YEAR AND HE WAS NOMINATED AGAIN THIS YEAR.”

True, but here is the thing:

THERE’S A SMALL SUBSET OF UGLY PEOPLE WHO ARE UGLY IN JUST THE RIGHT WAY THAT IT MAKES THEM ADORABLE.

Eddie Redmayne is one of those people.  Benedict Cumberbatch is another.  There must be something in the water in England.  Come to think of it, the UK is the home of the pug.  Have you ever seen a pug?  You just want to smoosh their wittle faces don’t you?

If you’re a pug the Academy will look the other way.

We’ve talked about the men, but what about the women?

BEST ACTRESS:

JENNIFER LAWRENCE

Holy Crap.  Look, I’m not trying to be inappropriate here, but that chick can catch any D she wants any day of the week and twice on Sunday.  Not saying she does. Just saying that she never, ever has to worry about being alone. If she ever feels alone, she can just put her head out her front door and shout, “I’m Jennifer Lawrence! Who wants to talk to me?” and then talk to the ten thousand men that show up.

This woman is so hot that she stars in a Young Adult movie series in which she can’t figure out which of the two dudes who wants her to pick. When was the last time you ever had a choice?  Before I met Video Game Rack Fighter, I don’t recall ever having any choices to make in my past dating life. If a woman was willing to acknowledge my existence after a first date, then I asked her out again.

Jennifer Lawrence is so hot that cyber criminals actually hacked her phone because that’s how badly they wanted to see pictures of her butt.  No one wants to look at pictures of my butt I’ll tell you.  You will be scarred for life from that sight.  If anything, hackers might hack my phone to install a program on it that prevents me from taking pictures of my butt.  Not that I was going to do that anyway but still.

CATE BLANCHETT

Cate Blanchett has been in the acting biz a long time.  She’s hot when she plays straight women. In Carol, she plays a lesbian.  Just throwing it out there, if I were a woman, I’d become a lesbian just to go out with Cate Blanchett.

ANY QUESTIONS?

“BUT BQB, CHARLOTTE RAMPLING WAS NOMINATED AND SHE’S SO OLD!”

Hold on to your hats, 3.5 readers, because I’m about to let you in on one of Hollywood’s biggest Oscar loopholes:

LOOKS FADE.  EVEN ATTRACTIVE PEOPLE KNOW THAT.  AND NOT EVERY ATTRACTIVE PERSON CAN WIN AN OSCAR EVERY YEAR. ERGO, IF YOU ARE AN ACTOR OR ACTRESS AND YOU GET OLD, YOU’LL BE CONSIDERED FOR AN OSCAR AS LONG AS YOU WERE SUPER HOT WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG.

Google some pictures of Charlotte Rampling in her heyday.  Again, not trying to be inappropriate, but Charlotte Rampling in her prime was a world class source of boner inspiration.

Same scenario for Jessica Tandy. When she was young, Jessica Tandy pitched more tents than Barnum and Bailey.  That’s why they were willing to give her an Oscar for Driving Miss Daisy when she was at the end of her life and looked like the Crypt Keeper.

(Millennials, the Crypt Keeper was this boney, scary voiced mummified guy who hosted a horror show on HBO.)

“BUT BQB, SHOULD YOU BE SAYING SUCH MEAN THINGS ABOUT UGLY PEOPLE?”

It’s ok.  I’m ugly.  They’re my people.  It’s our thing.  Behind closed doors, we go up to each other and say, “Yo, what up, my uggo?”

You can’t do that to an ugly person if you’re attractive.  That’s OUR thing.

“BUT BQB, I WATCH MOVIES ALL THE TIME AND I ALWAYS SEE UGLY CHARACTERS ON SCREEN.”

Oh sure. Ugly people aren’t completely banned from Hollywood.  But they are tired of being typecast as trolls, demons, monsters, psychotic murderers, homeless people, bloated corpses being investigated by attractive detectives who end up humping because they can’t keep their hands off each other because they’re so damn attractive, hobgoblins, villains, and of course, the sassy office assistant who tells the female lead of a romantic comedy, “Go get him, girlfriend!”

In the Academy’s defense here, this could be an issue that isn’t the movie industry’s fault.  Amidst the #OscarsSoWhite discussion, there is another discussion as to whether or not art imitates life and if so, then perhaps the issue is that Oscar winning movies are often about historical events and sadly, due to racism, many minorities have been kept from taking part in the activities that become fodder for Academy recognized films.

I feel like I speak for ugly people everywhere when I ask society to keep an open mind when it comes to hiring an ugly person.  Sure, you’d rather have a hottie to stare at in your office, but the ugly person will work harder because they know they have to and they might actually help you get shit done.

“NO REALLY, BQB, I HAVE SEEN MOVIES WHERE AN UGLY PERSON WAS THE MAIN CHARACTER!”

Again, we have to make a distinction between ugly characters and the attractive people hired to ugly themselves up with makeup and prosthetics to play them.

Yup.  That’s right.  Even when there’s a role that calls for an ugly person, Hollywood will not call on any one of the many ugly people who, against the advice of their friends and family, travelled to Hollywood in search of fame, ignoring all the cries of, “You’ll never make it!  You’re too ugly!”

Instead, they’ll just take an attractive person and apply some ugly makeup.

For instance, take the 2003 film, Monster, about the life of Aileen Wuornos, a very unattractive female serial killer.

Did Hollywood give an ugly actress her big break?  Nope. They just took inconceivably hot actress Charlize Theron and uglied her up.  Put a shitty hair wig on her, used makeup to add wrinkles and acne and blotches and so on.

And she won an Oscar!  And you know, she’s a great actress and all, but come on.  This chick wakes up every morning looking like a damn Disney princess.  If I were a blue jay I’d want to fly into her room and land on her arm just to listen to her sing and then do all of her housework for her.  That’s how hot she is.

Plenty of roles available for hot chicks.  Hollywood could have let an ugly chick have her fifteen minutes of fame to play an ugly serial killer.

Hollywood does this all the time, often with villains.  It’s like they just ugly up a good looking person and then wink at the audience and say, “Don’t worry folks!  There’s a really good looking person under this get up!  We’d never let an ugly person star in a movie!  Ha ha ha!”

What if a real life nerd defies the odds to achieve greatness?  Surely they’ll allow a nerd to play a nerd, right?

Wrong.  Steve Jobs was the ultimate king of the nerds.  Did they hire a nerd to play him?  Nope.  They just slapped a pair of glasses on Michael Fassbender.  Typical Hollywood.

If I may wax controversial for a moment, “black face” or when a white person applies black makeup and pretends to be black, is a highly offensive practice and rightly so.

As an ugly person, I don’t like it when attractive people walk around in “ugly face.”  That fake ugly face does not give the attractive person any insight into the suffering of the ugly.  Everyone knows attractive people in ugly face are still good looking under there.  They’re still getting invited to the party anyway.

WHAT ABOUT BEHIND THE SCENES OSCARS?

They don’t count.  We fully understand that Hollywood will allow you to work behind the scenes as a director, or a cinematographer or a writer even if you’re a total mutant.  My hat goes off to them.  In today’s economy, it is hard to get a job at McDonald’s if you’re an ugly person, so ugly people have really pulled off a hat trick if they’re allowed to do anything at all in the film industry.

But I’m talking about putting more ugly people on screen so that the nation’s vast supply of ugly people will learn to love themselves, ugliness and all.

WHAT ABOUT DEMOGRAPHICS?

According to the Fake Institute for Bogus Statistics, attractive people make up a mere twenty-percent of all movie going audiences.

That’s because attractive people have so many better options for a Saturday night.  When surveyed, attractive couples stated that instead of watching a movie, they’d rather go sky diving, or white water rafting, or skinny dipping, or go for a frolic in a field of daisies without a care in the world, or lie on a beach and make love with one another, completely oblivious to the waves crashing all around them, or travel to a third world nation and take a selfie with a starving child so they can slap it up on Facebook and pretend that they care, or attend any of the millions upon millions of parties they are invited to or have thrown in their honor per year.

Good looking people just do not have time for movies unless they’re starring in them.

Ugly people make up the remaining 80 percent.  When surveyed as to why they enjoy movies so much, they said that they prefer to remain in the dark like the C.H.U.D.s that they are, that movies provide a form of escapism that helps them forget about the horrible lives they live as ugly people, that romance films, in particular, allow them to fantasize about what it would be like to be in a relationship because God knows no one is asking them out on a date because they’re too ugly, and finally, they have a lot of free time to spend at the movies because they’re so ugly that no one wants to make love to them in the crashing waves of a sandy beach or frolic through a field of daisies with them.

ARE YOU SERIOUS?

Yes and no.  First, yes, I get Hollywood’s side.  They’re in a visual business. They sell escapism.  I go to movies to escape from the low level of life my ugliness causes me.  I go to movies so I can pretend to be one of the attractive people on screen.  I don’t want to pretend to be ugly because I already am.

Yup.  Little known secret.  Even ugly people discriminate against ugly people.  Most ugly people have convinced themselves their transformation into an attractive person is just around the corner so they better not associate with ugly people and hold out for all the attractive people coming their way once they deuglify themselves.  So many ugly people waste their time home alone when they could be together, enjoying one another’s ugly company.

 

Ugly people must stand up and inform the public about this outrage in a productive manner.  They can’t rely on the news media to do it for them.  Have you watched the news lately?  Every anchorman looks like a perfect haired, square jawed, straight teeth having Mitt Romney looking bastard and every reporter is a Hot Ass Blonde Chick like the one who, to her credit, saved my life during last year’s East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse.

The attractive people in the news media either don’t understand or don’t care about the plight of the ugly.

IS ATTRACTIVE PRIVILEGE REAL?

Yes, and not just in Hollywood but everywhere.  Attractive people have no clue how many doors to the good life magically open up for them just because they’re easy on the eyes.

Attractive people can ask someone out on a date and instantly get a yes, not a “I think I have to wash my hair that night” or “I have to take my cat to the podiatrist” or even worse, “I’ll get back to you” and then they don’t get back to you.

Do you know what attractive men reported as the number one source of their injuries last year?  Broken ribs caused by throngs of hot women throwing themselves at them.

Do you know what ugly men reported as the number one source of their injuries last year?  Pepper spray blasts to the face from attractive women they just said hello to.

Do you know what attractive women reported as the number one source of their injuries last year?  “Selfie Finger.”  Searing finger pained caused by taking too many selfies because they know they’re hot and they’re addicted to all the likes they get for their duck faced photos on social media.

Do you know what ugly women reported as the number one source of their injuries last year? Suffocation under enormous piles of cats.  So very many cats.

Attractive privilege is even prevalent in the workplace.  An ugly person could write a report on how the company’s product, if arranged in a certain way, could be used as a cure for cancer, saving countless lives and earning the company trillions and still get chewed out for interrupting the meeting with his/her ugly face.

Meanwhile, attractive people can just show up late, openly admit they didn’t do shit on the big project, and still get promoted.  The boss will say something to the effect of, “You’re such a straight shooter, attractive person!  I like it!  Lunch is on me!”

Note all this information comes from the Fake Institute for Bogus Statistics.

FINAL THOUGHTS

The vast majority of movie fans are ugly C.H.U.D.s who immerse themselves in film because their lives suck due to their atrocious appearances.

Yet, most unfairly, ugly people of all ethnicities and backgrounds are consistently denied Oscar consideration.

This February, little ugly children will tune into the Oscars and not see anyone who looks as ugly as they are, leaving them with the message that they aren’t welcome in Hollywood.

And sure, you might say, that’s good that they get that message early and get the idea of fame out of their heads so they can grow up and use all the time they aren’t spending on dates that no one wants to go with them on, on studying hard to become doctors, lawyers, scientists, professionals, heads of state and so on.

But, that would be missing the point.  Ugly people can’t help their ugliness. It isn’t their fault that God spent a little extra time baking some people, and took others out of the oven a little too early.

#OscarsSoPretty is an actually thing.  I didn’t make it up.  Ugly people have taken to Twitter to make their voices heard, mostly because they have nothing better to do since no one is asking them out on a date.

Ugly lives matter.  Attractive privilege is real.  End ugly discrimination and nominate a genuine, bonafide ugly person in 2017.

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#OscarsSoWhite – Are the Oscars Racist?

Discussion time, 3.5 readers.

Are the Oscars racist?

And….go!  Talk amongst yourselves, I’m a little verclempt.

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Movie Review – The Revenant (2015)

The Old West. Beautiful landscapes. Bitter cold. Dangerous animals…

and men wearing various hollowed out animal carcasses as hats and coats.

BQB here with a view of the Oscar frontrunner, The Revenant.

Be forewarned there are SPOILERS ahead, so don’t come after me for revenge if you read on and the movie’s ruined for you.

You know, 3.5 readers, I’m not sure the average person grasps the concept of time.

To think, two hundred years ago, men were trudging through the frozen wilderness, fighting for their lives just to skin some beasts and sell their fur for a few measly bucks.

You’ve got it pretty good today in comparison now, don’t you?  Yeah. Think about that the next time you start yelling at Siri for giving one of her bullshit answers to your clearly pronounced question.

Our story begins with a band of fur traders.  Domhnall Gleeson plays their boss, Captain Andrew Henry.  Leonardo DiCaprio is the company’s scout, Hugh Glass and Tom Hardy? He’s Fitzgerald, the villainous douche of the film.

Tom may be stuck playing villainous douches forever because he plays them so well, just as he did with Batman’s Baine.  Oh wait, then again, he did play Mad Max, so I stand corrected.

I won’t spoil the details so….yadda yadda yadda…long story short, Glass has the ever loving shit mauled out of him by a bear, Fitzgerald, villainous douche that he is, leaves Glass behind and Glass hauls his horribly wounded body across the wilderness to seek his revenge.

There’s a bit more to it than that, but I don’t want to spoil it, even though I warned you about spoilers.

Great use of a CGI bear. I’ve had mixed feelings about CGI for awhile now.  It can provide amazing effects, or it can make a movie look cartoonish and silly, depending on how it was use.

Here, it was used in such a way that I really believed that a damn Grizzly bear was beating the shit out of a Hollywood leading man.

Great performances all around.  Hardy, as Fitzgerald, is a douche, but you’re also left with an understanding of how horrible the frontier was.  Would you have done the things that Fitzgerald did to survive or is there a limit to the depravity you’d take part in just to save your skin?  Fitzgerald didn’t have a limit and none of us will ever really know unless we’re put in a life or death situation.  Let’s hope we’re never put in one.

Domhnall Gleeson had a banner 2015. Ex Machina.  Brooklyn.  Shit, he’s even friggin General Hux in Star Wars.  And now The Revenant.  And before all this he was what?  Ronald Weasley’s brother in those Harry Potter movies???

Holy Crap, someone get me that guy’s agent.

Finally, let me just say as an avid movie buff, it’s been a pleasure to see Leonardo DiCaprio grow up on screen over the years.  He was the extra add on cute kid in the Growing Pains when all the other Seaver children started getting older.  Then he was Jack in Titanic.  Then his career could of gone anywhere but he put on some muscle, started getting movies like Blood Diamond and so on.

I think the best role he ever had was as Jordan Belfort in The Wolf of Wall Street.  That scene where he takes too many drugs and his body ends up like a pile of useless jello but he tries to move around at the same time…hilarious and horribly tragic at the same time.

He deserved an Oscar for that but that wasn’t his year.  Hopefully, this one will be.

I mean, not that his life is lacking or anything.  He probably sticks his head out the front door every morning and gets mauled by a hundred hot chicks but still.  He’s overdue for an award.

A thumbs up from BQB and consider seeing it on the big screen, just so you can get a full view of the mountains and scenery and nature and shit.

The movie itself is also worthy of winning Best Picture.  It’ll be great to see a deserving film take home the prize after that pile of crap Birdman walked away with it.

STATUS: Shelf worthy.

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Movie Review – Point Break (2015)

Wanted to like it. Did not.

Bookshelf Q. Battler here with a review of the Point Break reboot.

SPOILERS!

We older folks hate it when they remake/reboot our beloved classics, don’t we?

Personally, I’m ok with it. Making a new version doesn’t mean the old version disappears. It’s interesting to see what can be done with a plot and characters when the whole thing is updated to current times.

The new Robocop movie, for example, was, in my opinion, a great addition.

But then there’s this pile of junk that gives reboots a bad name.

Don’t get me wrong. The stunts are all spectacular. Squirrel suit diving, parachuting, big wave surfing, snowboarding, it is filled with all kinds of action that you’ll want to see on the big screen.

But it’s lacking in the character development department that made the original such a beloved hit.

If you’ve never seen either one, the plot is that there are a group of armed robbers/adrenaline junkies who follow a “live fast, die young” motto, constantly looking for the next high that comes with performing outrageous extreme sports.

FBI agent Johnny Utah, a danger junkie himself, is assigned to use his skills to infiltrate the gang undercover and along the way, befriends Bodhi, the gang’s leader. Utah is torn between friendship and camaraderie in a group that gets the adrenaline junkie lifestyle, but he’s also a cop and can’t allow them to keep breaking the law, robbing banks and so forth.

To this installment’s credit, they change up the plot a bit and try to make it their own. The original was set in America. This one goes all over the world.

But while efforts were made to cast a lot of good looking people, nothing really happens to make me care about what happens to them the way I did in the original.

It’s up to you on this one, 3.5 readers. If you’re into outrageous stunts, you’ll want to catch it on the big screen. If you were looking for plot, you’ll be disappointed.

STATUS : Not shelf worthy

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SNEAK PEEK – All Day Sucker – Chapter One

On Jake’s last day in the 1950’s, a blonde femme fatale/movie starlet offers him a deal that lands him in hot water. Here’s the first chapter.

Let me know what you think, ya mugs. When I’m done working on Jake’s report, I’ll have it up on Wattpad and later on popculturemysteries.com

All Day Sucker – Chapter Oneshutterstock_71510056

May 31, 1954

I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face and on the last day I can recall from the 1950’s there wasn’t an exception. 

Alana Harris. What…a…woman.  Whenever I spy my eyes toward a dame like Alana then peep at an old bag lady who collects cans on the street corner with her stolen shopping cart, I wonder how its possible that both creatures are labeled as females.  I’m not trying to be politically incorrect as I know that sort of talk will get a fella drawn and quartered these days.  All I’m trying to say is that Alana’s beauty was at such a high level that she defied any form of scientific nomenclature.  She was a member of a species of one and what I wouldn’t give to classify her genus.

She was a blonde, as all the femme fatales typically are.  I don’t know what it is about yellow hair that can turn even the brightest fella into a chuckling chowderhead.  Someone ought to commission a study on that one.  She had a set of curves, the kind you’d need a high performance Italian race car to drive around and a pair of lips so luscious you didn’t know whether to kiss them or frame them and hang them on a wall.  Hers belonged in the Smithsonian.

There Alana was, right in front of me on the big screen, her enchanting assets so enormous that it felt like I could crawl up in her bosom and take a nap.  I’m not talking about resting my head there. I’m saying the screen at the Montoya Theater was so big it looked like an actual me could fit between those casabas and go to sleep forever.  Talk about the sweet life.

The flick was Love Is Not Enough. What an understatement. Folks dug it back then.  It was a decent picture but it never generated any long lasting oomph.  I doubt any of you mugs have ever heard of it, and I’m not trying to be one of of those dirty hipsters by saying that.

“Johnny!” Alana said, only in this flick she wasn’t Alana.  She was Maggie, an ordinary housewife with a big secret.  Alana as a housewife.  Yeah right.  If that broad ever touched a vacuum cleaner one day in her life then I’m Mickey Rooney.

“Johnny, whatsamatter? Don’t you love me no more?!”

Zip Rogers.  As a certain cartoon rabbit would say, “what a maroon.”  Most actors were charming and handsome but this fella was as plug ugly as they come.  Yet somehow, he always got cast opposite the most alluring chickadees.  I swear, that dim bulb must have had pictures of studio executives in compromising positions with barnyard animals or something.

Zip was Johnny in this film.  For some reason, every male lead was named Johnny.  Writers had a very limited frame of reference for names at the time.

“Love you?” Zip/Johnny asked.  “Why, I can’t even stand the sight of you, you shameless, four flushing, two timing Jezebel!”

The theater was cold.  I needed a little sip of the old Irish courage to warm me up.  Luckily, I never went anywhere without my own supply.  I reached into my trench coat, withdrew my flask and treated myself to a nice long pull.

Tsk. Tsk.  The old broad behind me was flabbergasted.

“How dare you?!” she asked.

I turned around and offered her the flask.

“Sorry sweetheart. I didn’t know you wanted some.”

I might as well have asked her to make whoopee with the look she shot me.  Not that there was any chance of that happening.  I wouldn’t have touched her with your finger, Jack.

“Why, I never!”

“Well maybe you should, lady,”  I said.  “It might lighten your disposition.”

I returned my eyes to the screen.  Zip/Johnny and Alana/Maggie gazing deeply into each others’ eyes.

“You don’t understand what’s going on, Johnny,”  Alana/Maggie said.  “I know it looks bad but I swear I never did anything wrong.  I would never hurt you, my love.”

I took another swig. I felt a finger poke me in the shoulder.

“Sir!” the old bag behind me said.  “Put that away!  This is a respectable establishment.”

“I doubt it, Grandma,” I replied as I pointed at the screen. “If it was, they wouldn’t be showing this stinker.”

Some degenerate in the back got all heated.  “HEY!  SHUT YOUR FACE, MAC!  I’M TRYING TO WATCH A PICTURE SHOW HERE!”

“AHH, GO SOAK YOUR HEAD YA MOOK YA!” was my earnest reply.  The Irish courage medicine was kicking in.

“The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker?”  Zip/Johnny asked Alana/Maggie.  “What about the podiatrist?  Was he for ‘us’ too?”

Alana/Maggie bit her lip and turned away dramatically, unable to face her accuser.  “That one was…an accident.”

“An accident my eye,” Zip/Johnny said as he put his hand on Alana/Maggie’s chin and gently pushed her face towards his.  “Now you see here, doll.  You and I are calling it quits.  It’s Oversville, baby. Population: You. We’re through, even.  This screwy fling we’ve got going on is done and I don’t wanna hear another word about it, see?”

I took another sip.  That old broad was birddogging me but good.

“Disgraceful,”  she said.  She tugged on the shoulder of the old man next to her.  “Reginald!  Reginald, do something about this brute at once!”

By the looks of Reginald, he’d been henpecked till there wasn’t much left.  He was all skin and bones, nothing but a few tufts of gray hair on his head.  A good, swift breeze could have knocked that old bastard over.

“Tell you what, Reggie baby,”  I said.  “Let’s ditch this witch and you and I will go get us some real lookers.  Whaddya say?”

Reggie shrugged his shoulders and mulled it over.  That came to an end when his wife whacked him a good one with her purse.  She landed a good one too.  Made a big “thunk” sound.  Oh boy, if looks could kill old Reggie would have been a goner.

“Right away dear,” Reggie said with a resignation of defeat.  Slowly, he rose to his knees and walked away.

“Lady, what’s your problem?”  I asked.

“You should not be consuming illicit beverages in a public place,”  the old bag said, huffily.

“Illicit beverages?”  I asked.  “It’s just a little bit of the old Red Eye, darlin.’”

That big mouthed lug in the back was at it again. “SHUT YER TRAP OR I’LL COME DOWN THERE AND SHUT IT FOR YA!”

“AWW, YOU AND WHAT ARMY?!”  I hollered back.

Everything got quiet for awhile.  Zip/Johnny had a black velvet bag in his hand.  He opened it up, turned it over and dumped out some shiny hot rocks.  Rubies.  Sapphires.  Diamonds.  All kinds of bling.  That’s a word you kids use, isn’t it?

“Do you deny that you stole the Duchess’ jewels?!”  Johnny/Zip asked.

Silence.

“Answer me!” Johnny/Zip said.

Tears streamed from Maggie/Alana’s eyes.  Actresses who can cry on cue are a hot commodity in Tinseltown.  Always be wary of a broad who can turn the waterworks on and off at the drop of the hat. They won’t think twice about using that power on you.

“I do deny it!  I do!”  she cried. “A thousand times I do!”

“Then how did they get in your purse?”  Johnny/Zip said. 

Nothing.

Johnny/Zip stroked his hand through his hair, then grabbed the gal by the shoulders.

“Baby,” he said.  “If you can look me in the eye right here, right now and promise me that you’re a one woman man from here on out then I can forget the past…”

No you can’t,” I thought to myself. “Get outta showbiz, ya’ cheap hack, I’m not convinced at all.”

“I promise Johnny, oh I swear I do,” Alana/Lorna said.

“Good,” the so-called leading man said.  “Now, just explain to me how those jewels ended up in your purse and we can put this whole mess behind us.  We’ll run away and live happily ever after with a nice house, two kids, a picket fence and a car in the garage.”

“I…I can’t.”

“You can’t…or you…won’t?”

“Both,” Alana/Maggie said.  “Please Johnny, just trust me.”

“I can forgive your dalliances, Maggie,”  Zip/Johnny said.  “But I could never marry a wanton criminal…”

Another hand on my shoulder.  It belonged to a pimply faced usher.  Couldn’t of been more than sixteen.

“Sir,” he said in a squeaky voice. “I have to ask you to live.”

“As soon as the show’s over, Jack,” I said. “I paid my dough like everybody else.”

“SHUT THAT DIRTY SO AND SO UP!” the big mouth in the back shouted.

“AWW, YOU’RE ALL WET!” I yelled back.  Nothing like a good 1950’s insult.

“Please sir,” the usher said. “Alcohol isn’t allowed here.”

Here’s where I have to tell you that I’m not very pleasant when I’m drunk and I’m drunk most of the time ergo, I’m generally not a very pleasant person whatsoever.

“Why not?”  I asked. “Last I checked this is America, son.  Dwight D. Eisenhower’s running the show, not some lousy unwashed Stalinist Trotskyite commie.  If a fella can’t enjoy a pull of the old Red Eye without a federal case being made out of it then we might as well lock the doors and turn the keys over to the pinkos lickity split and call it a night.”

The kid was baffled.  “I…I don’t know sir but please leave.  My manager says I have to call the cops if you don’t.”

“Call ‘em, kid,” I said.  “This is about democracy now. What I do, I do for America.”

The usher stormed off.  The emotional temperature in the room was definitely changing for the worse.  The theater was full of hard working decent folk, people just trying to escape their hum drum lives for a couple of hours only to have it all spoiled by a drunk.  That’s how they saw it anyway.  I still blame that old bag.

Back to the movie.

“Maggie,” Zip/Johnny said.  “Surely you realize that if the jewels were in your purse and you refuse to tell me who stole them then the only logical conclusion I can make is that you…”

“I’ve told you I didn’t take them!” Alana/Maggie interrupted. “If you love me then that should be good enough for you.”

With a great flourish, Zip/Johnny spun around and snapped his fingers.  A contingent of coppers walked through the door.

And what a coincidence, a gaggle of coppers strolled down the aisle of the theater at the exact same time.

“Please Johnny, please!”  shouted Alana/Maggie as she was put into cuffs.  “Don’t let them take me away! DON’T YOU LOVE ME?”

“I’m sorry kid, but,”  Zip/Johnny said. “Love is not enough.”

BAH HA HA!” I laughed like an idiot. “He said the name of the movie!”

I knew all of the officers who came to collect me.  Before I went out on my own as a private dick, I served with them on the LAPD.  There was Renault.  Simmons.  Clement.  The sergeant leading them was that Irish prick Declan O’Connell.

Oh, I apologize, 3.5 readers.  I’m from the 1950’s and I’m working on my political correctness and cultural sensitivity skills so I can make a go of it in your time.  What I meant to say was “O’Connell, that prick of Irish descent, but I’m not trying to say he was a prick due to his Irish ancestry but rather, he’d of been a prick no matter what country his parents hailed from.”

Red hair.  Red beard.  The man was practically a damn red haired werewolf he was so hairy.

“Shite, it’s you,” O’Connell said.  Some people said “shite” back then. Folks from the old country, mostly.

“Howdy, Declan,”  I said.

“Hello Dash,” O’Connell said.  “Got a complaint of some horse’s arse ruining the picture show.  Public drunkeness to boot.”

The exasperated crowd gave up on the movie.  Everyone was watching me now.

“That’s terrible,”  I said.  “As a taxpayer, I demand you find that rapscallion posthaste.”

“Are you really gonna make us drag you outta here, boyo?” O’Connell asked.

“‘Fraid so.”

O’Connell nodded at his men. 

“You can’t do this!”  I shouted.  “This is America!  This is no way to treat a war hero!!!”

“War heroes are a dime a dozen around here, Dash,” O’Connell said.  “Let’s go.”

Simmons grabbed my left arm, Clement my right.  They lifted me up but I didn’t budge.  Renault and O’Connell each grabbed a leg.  Everyone in my row got up and moved to make way for the cops as they carried me out.

I screamed like a babbling idiot.  “This is the work of the commies, I tell ya’! They’re coming and they’re just as scummy as the Nazis!  When a man can’t even sneak a little bit of the good stuff without some old battle axe calling the brute squad then we’re all living in a police state!!!”

“Nothing more to see here, folks!”  O’Connell said.  “Enjoy the rest of your show.”

They carried me up the aisle.  Everyone clapped and cheered.

Unfortunately for them, I’d seen that movie before.  It wasn’t like today, where people have thousands of movies at their fingertips.  Back then, you went to the picture house and saw either the first picture, the second picture or once in awhile, the third picture.

“IT WAS HER TWIN SISTER ALL ALONG!!!”  I hollered.  “SHE SLEPT WITH ALL THOSE MEN!  SHE STOLE THE DUCHESS’ JEWELS!  MAGGIE WAS JUST TAKING THE RAP BECAUSE SHE DIDN’T WANT HER SISTER TO WIND UP IN THE SLAMMER!”

The audience let loose with a resounding “BOOOO!!!” then pelted me with popcorn boxes and candy wrappers.

“You always had a way with people, Dash,”  O’Connell said.

“I try,”  I replied.

“WAIT!”  the big mouth in the back yelled.

“WHAT?!”  I screamed as my head just barely avoided slapping into each step as the cops drew closer to the door.

“WHAT ABOUT THE PODIATRIST?!”  the big mouth screamed. 

“IT WAS DARK AND HE PRETENDED TO BE JOHNNY!”  I screamed back.  “IT REALLY WAS AN ACCIDENT!  NOT HER FAULT AT ALL!”

Another “Booo!” from the audience as the fuzz carried me out the door.  They walked through the lobby, lugging me all the way.

“You know Dash, I don’t blame you for hitting the sauce after what you did but do it at home, all right?  I don’t feel like dragging your fat arse all over creation again.”

“Does everyone hate me?”  I inquired.

“Of course,”  Dashing said.  “You got a bunch of your former fellow officers killed and a bunch more are headed to the stoney lonesome on corruption charges.  But at least you get to be the big man that took Mugsy McGillicuddy down.  Was it worth losing every friend on the force you ever had?”

“I haven’t decided yet,”  I said as I looked up at the fellas carrying me. “But then again I never had much use for friends anyway.  Do you hate me too, O’Connell?”

“Not as such but my goal in life has always been to keep my head down and my nose out of places it doesn’t belong, lad,”  O’Connell said.  “I wish you’d done the same.”

“But I made LA better, didn’t I?” I asked.

“Sure,” O’Connell said. “For about five minutes…until the next snake in the grass rears its ugly head to service the public’s illegal addictions.”

“You have that little faith in people?” I asked.

“You don’t?” O’Connell answered.

“Touche.”

The boys took me outside.  It was warm, but not stifling.  There was a nice breeze in the air.

“Ready, boyo?”  O’Connell asked.

“Ready when you are, ya’ Irish prick,”  I said.

Don’t be scandalized, 3.5 readers.  Back then, O’Connell would have been completely befuddled had I said, “Ready when you are, you prick who happens to be Irish though your Irish ancestry is not the direct cause of your prickosity.”

The boys swung me back and forth like I was lying in an imaginary hammock then let me loose on the third swing, sending me sailing through the air only to land six feet away on the pavement.

“AND STAY OUT!”  O’Connell shouted.

Don’t worry about me.  My face broke my fall. I wasn’t using it for much anyway.

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Coming Soon – Pop Culture Mysteries – All Day Sucker

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Blondes – the bane of Jake’s existence.

June 1, 1954. It was the day Jake Dashing fell asleep at his desk, never to wake up again until June 1, 2014. He slept for sixty years exactly.

Soon, Bookshelf Q. Battler’s 3.5 readers will learn the details behind the last day Jake spent in the 1950’s.

Our resident gumshoe always was a sucker for a pretty face and on the last day from his past, there wasn’t an exception.

Alana Harris. The buxom bombshell actress and star of the film, Love is Not Enough comes to Jake with a proposition: snap some photos of her husband Buck Bettencourt in the throes of passion with his floozy on the side and she will…make it worth his while.

Jake’s pretty sure he knows what that means but demands clarification nonetheless.  Never trust a dame, especially a dazzling one.

But Bettencourt isn’t just any old mark. He’s a major Hollywood power player, the owner of Bettencourt Studios and the friend everyone in Tinseltown wants to have.

Jake arrives on the scene only to find foul play.  Is it a set up? He’ll spend his last day in the 1950’s clearing his name.

Bookshelf Q. Battler is currently reviewing Jake Dashing’s case report and hopes to add it to Pop Culture Mysteries – Season One by New Year’s.

Of course, it’ll become part of popculturemysteries.com later in 2016.

What is it about yellow hair that turns a man into a chuckling chowderhead?  If Jake knew, his life would be a lot easier, but a lot less interesting.

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Golden Age of Hollywood Interviews

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You’re an expert in Ancient Tinseltown, that era when movies just started
moving and every gal with a pretty face hopped a bus out west in hopes of becoming the next star.

Noir? It’s all up in your reservoir.

Private dicks and foxy chicks are your bag and your bag is full with tales to tell.

Jake Dashing wants to strike up a gabfest with you for popculturemysteries.com, see?

And as you consider this fantastic offer, keep in mind the following:

COMPENSATION – None, as Jake’s boss, Bookshelf Q. Battler, is as poor as a church mouse and twice as homely. BQB will steer his 3.5 readers your way though. Seven extra eyeballs on your Mickey Spillane action ‘aint half bad, kid.

TRUST – BQB has interviewed over fifty authors without a single complaint yet, plus he offers a guarantee. You don’t like the post of your interview?  Toot your horn BQB’s way to let him know and it will come down faster than a starlet’s stockings on a cast couch. No muss, no fuss, no problem. BQB goes out of his way to promote writers and keep them happy.

So whaddya say, mac? If it’s a thumbs up, let Battler know and he’ll get down to writing his questions, the answers to which you’ll write yourself so you’ll be able to get out exactly what you want to say.

But if it’s a big goose egg, that’s fine as wine too, Jack. No hard feelings.

Thanks for your consideration. It’s been a real gas, see?

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Popculturemysteries.com

Dear 3.5 Readers,shutterstock_207933922

If you enjoy being one of my 3.5 readers, will you consider becoming one of the 3.5 readers of “Pop Culture Mysteries” conveniently located for your perusal at www.popculturemysteries.com?

This is your opportunity to get in on the ground floor and become one of my 3.5 readers on a new site before competition for these coveted 3.5 slots kicks in.

The Pop Culture Mysteries site is currently under construction. I’ve set a deadline to get it up and running on April 1, but I’ll be making some posts and adding information to it in the months ahead.

This is kind of like renting a new apartment and inviting your friends over to see it before the truck arrives with your furniture.

In other words, I have no place for you to sit, but I’d love for you to take a peak and tell me what you think.

Plus, you can read on as I answer the question, “What is a Pop Culture Mystery?”

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Mystery Writer Interviews

By: Jake Dashing, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Private
Investigator

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You’re a writer, a scribe, a wordsmith, but you’re not just any ordinary
Mickey Spillane type either.  Oh no.  Like an bona fide seamstress, you thread your words ever so delicately through the eye of the needle that is your book only to attach it to your readers’ hearts just so you can yank them to and fro, turning them into your own personal puppets.

You sling your work like hash fresh off the grill, serving them straight into the gaping maws of your fans and like a bunch of trained seals, they always slap their fins together and beg for me.

You barely have time as it is but you need to make some, because time flies when you’re having fun but it should always stand still for a man in need.  And as I’ve been instructed to say by a beautiful blonde attorney, that man in none other than one Bookshelf Q. Battler.

Battler’s setting up a new website, see?  “Pop Culture Mysteries” is the name and answering entertainment questions is the game, or rather, it’s my game, as that pencil neck dweeb has concocted a scheme to drive me indefinitely into a life of involuntarily servitude.

But troubles are a dime a dozen, a plug nickel on Sunday, and the last thing you need is to have a bum like me bend your ear with mine.  What you need to know is what Battler wants from you.

He’s got the pop culture part covered.  What he needs now is more mystery and like a door with a bright big red X painted on it, that’s where you come in.

You see, Battler fancies himself a writer only no one has the nerve to tell him that they’ve seen bird cage liners with more flare than the schlock this palooka churns out.

He wants to learn some tips to improve his writing skills (I know, you’re good but you’re no miracle worker) and he wants to catch the twinkling eyes of mystery fans the world over and bring them to his site, so to cut a longwinded gab session in half, he wants me to interview you.

And I’ll do it in my typical hardboiled noir style.

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, SPECIFICALLY?

I’ll write the questions.  You write your answers.  I’ll turn it into Battler and he’ll slap it up on the Interwhatever, see?

IS THERE ANY COMPENSATION?

Are you kidding?  Someone check my leg because I think it’s being pulled.

Battler’s such a lousy cheap skate that you wouldn’t be able to open up his wallet with a crowbar and a plumber’s helperzx . If you did, a squadron of moths would fly out and dance the hula mid air as a joyous victory celebration of their newfound freedom.

You’d sooner get a rummy to part with his bottle than you’d get Battler to part with a penny and…ok…you get the point.

Battler can send his 3.5 readers your way though.  I put on my green eyeshade, crunched the numbers and realized that means a total of seven new eyeballs on your work.  Maybe one of them wears an eyepatch or something, I don’t know.

CAN BATTLER BE TRUSTED?

Your asking the wrong fella, Jack.  I trust Battler about as far as I can throw him and since he’s insulated himself behind his blonde bombshell of an attorney, I’m not able to toss that lug very far at all.

But that’s between Battler and I.  What I do know is this cat treats writers who help him out like royalty, so take that into consideration.

#31ZombieAuthors – I don’t believe in the supernatural and I think Battler is full of three day old horse manure when it comes to the tall tales on his site, bookshelfbattle.com.  But he did interview #31ZombieAuthors in October 2015, 1 a day for 31 days and it was a rousing success.

Ask the Alien – I don’t think Battler’s telling the truth about being friends with an alien from outer space.  After all, a little green man in search of intelligent life would be bored out of his mind with Battler as a buddy.  Aside from that though, this column has promoted the works of around 20 authors.  Add that to #31ZombieAuthors and we’re talking over 50 satisfied writers.

THE GUARANTEE

As a writer, you make your living on your reputation, so it makes sense that you’d be skeptical about throwing your hat into a ring run by a weirdo who claims to be friends with aliens.

That’s why Battler offers everyone a guarantee.  You don’t like the post of your interview? Let Battler know and it comes down.  No muss.  No fuss. No problem.

50 author promos later and not one has asked for this, but if you do, BQB will yank that interview like he’s starting a boat motor.  Like all of my hopes and dreams, your interview will be gone and that will be that.  No hard feelings, as if there are any other kind.

If you’re interested, let Battler know.  If you’re not, I don’t blame you.  Between you, me and the four walls, that guy is a big loser with about as much charisma as a wet blanket in a tepid pool of water.

So thanks for listening, ya big lug ya and if you’re ever in my neck of the woods, well, I’d say drinks are on me but since i’m broke, they’ll be on you.

Get me something good.  Nothing fruity but otherwise it doesn’t matter as long as it helps me to pass out and stop all the bad memories I have from playing over and over again like a bad gag reel.

It’s been a real gas, kid.

Jake Dashing

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Pop Culture Mysteries – Open Contracts

By: Jake Dashing, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Private Investigator

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Pop culture.  It’s a world that keeps Bookshelf Q. Battler up late at night, his spacious brain filling up with one question after another about movies, music, television, books, and more.

I’m not sure I can relate. When I lose sleep, its because I’m too busy picturing all the Nazis my country demanded that I punch to death with my bare hands. I suppose each generation has its priorities.

Battler’s got info I want and he’s not forking it over until I solve a whole mess of mysteries for him.  But this whack job thinks of questions faster than I can answer them, so here are the mysteries currently up for grabs.

Being a private dick is a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, but if you want to try your luck at the sleuthing game, feel free to let Battler know you want to snatch one of these up:

MOVIES

In Star Wars, if the Death Star is supposed to be the size of an actual star, why is everyone able to walk around it and fly around it so quickly?

In Pulp Fiction, Harvey Keitel’s character, “the Wolf” is billed as a highly skilled fixer, one whose knowledge regarding the art of the cover up is so valuable that he simply erase all evidence of a crime, making it as if nothing ever happened….but then all he does is show up and tell Vince and Jules to spray the car down with Windex.  (Seriously, watch the movie.)  Was the Wolf that special?

TELEVISION

Did Tony Soprano live or die at the end of The Sopranos?  Was this a good or bad ending?

Why did the ending of Dexter both suck and blow at the same time?  Or did it?

On Gilligan’s Island, Gilligan and the gang go on, as the theme song says, “a three hour tour.”  How then, was it possible for everyone to become so irretrievably lost when they only strayed a mere three hours away from charted land?

On Married with Children, the running joke was that Al Bundy was disgusted by the idea of getting it on with his wife, Peggy.  Peggy wasn’t that bad looking though, even with her wacky beehive and leopard print attire.  What gives?

On Sons of Anarchy,  Jax Teller embraces a life of crime that provides very little return on investment.  Why is it that a scruffy bum who was lucky enough to win the heart of super hot doctor Tara didn’t just sit back and say, “Well, I’m going to sponge off my hot surgeon wife now, who no doubt makes a high salary because she’s a damn surgeon.  Hell, maybe I’ll even put my focus on turning the auto repair garage my father left into a profitable business.”  But instead, he just keeps making lousy criminal deals and then bumbles his way through them, often losing money on them and inviting a world of hurt.  Seriously, WTF?

MUSIC

Who put the bomp in the bomp sha bomp sha bomp and will this individual strike again?

Who let the dogs out?

What is a “hollaback girl” and why does Gwen Stefani go to great lengths to make sure you know she isn’t one?

To be sure, Sir Mix-a-Lot likes big butts and is unable to lie about this particular subject.  Why then, do the other brothers deny this truth?

VIDEO GAMES

What’s up with the hard sell?  Whenever you buy one they try to make you buy insurance, upgrades, and basically treat you like you’re trying to buy a fully loaded 2016 Toyota Tundra instead of a $60 fantasy experience.  What gives?

COME UP WITH YOUR OWN

That’s all Battler’s got for now but rest assured that loser will keep ’em coming.  That nerd has way too much time on his hands.  And if you’re a nerd with too much time on your hands, feel free to come up with a pop culture mystery of your own and raise it up the flag pole to see if Battler salutes.

For those of you who can’t translate hardboiled noir talk, that means tell him about it in the comments.

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