Ye Olde Wiping Boarde

October 18, 2007 ·
Filed under: Dung of the Day, Greenpoint Magic, Other Shit 

A constant source of friction here at Chateau de Ghetto is the purchasing of toilet paper. You see, my husband’s delicate little flower of an ass can’t take the rough stuff. I endeavor to buy the softest paper money can buy, but occasionally I screw up. Which brings to the following.

315 Eckford Street

I found this, the Steven Seagal of ass wipes, at 315 Eckford Tuesday. Even I have to admit this would be a little rough for my taste.


Miss Heather

Putting the “Shit” In New York Shitty

October 16, 2007 ·
Filed under: Crazy People, Dung of the Day, Other Shit 

I was forwarded this shitastic link by my fantastic buddy Judy over at Dategirl. It is so utterly stupid and revolting I have seen fit to feature it here on New York Shitty. I present to you, dear readers, a sampling from Diaper Free Adventures. An adventure in faux hippie crap trap and bad spelling:

My husband and I went to Williamsburg yesterday to get some good coffee at Verb and some militant vegan food at Foodswings. The L train was moderatley crowded with no seats left in which to sit, but not too many people standing. In these situations I do not do EC. I am too embarassed to take my son out of his carrier, unclip the potty from my bookbag, pull off his little gray sweatpants, open his diaper, lift him over the red potty and say, “Pssss. Pee-pee” into his ear.

This is beyond my comprehension:

  1. Verb coffee sucks ass. Their service is even worse.
  2. I am damned close to being a vegan, yet never profess to eat “militant vegan food”. This phrase even pisses me off.
  3. There are enough people, grown-ups no less, who piss on the L train as is. This woman’s entitled cunt dumpling does not need contribute to this nuisance.

Perhaps she is training her son to be a crazy homeless person? This would make sense given all the fucked shit she has probably (already?) filled his little head with and the state of the U.S. economy. After flunking out at the fry vat at Mickey D’s I am certain he’ll take to ranting and raving on Greenpoint Avenue like a natural. Pissing and shitting all over the place. Just like a pro. Just like mom taught him!

Pssss. Pee-pee!

Miss Heather

The Brooklyn Paper: Paragon of Journalism

October 1, 2007 ·
Filed under: Crazy People, Dung of the Day, Greenpoint Magic, Other Shit 

Onion Domes

This evening I had the pleasure of reading a turd from the above shit heap of a newspaper. It was forwarded to me via the Newtown Creek Alliance. They wrote:

I’m sorry to see the nature walk is getting severely trashed.

Initially I was going to write back and say “What do you expect, it’s The Brooklyn Paper?” I decided against it. I think my fellow Greenpointers should see how utterly shitty their product and journalistic standards are. For this reason I present to you, dear readers, the following article from the September 22, 2007 edition of The Brooklyn Paper

Something stinks — hey, it’s this park!

Up for a nature walk? The newest one is right there next to the sewage treatment plant.

This counterintuitive park project comes courtesy of the Department of Environmental Protection, which spent $3.2 million to build a gorgeous walkway next to the Newtown Creek sludge plant.

No, it’s not a joke — though some locals are treating it as such.

“I say we toilet paper their park — after all, they made our neighborhood smell like a toilet,” wrote one poster on, which labeled it “the crappiest park in Brooklyn.”

Other posts took advantage of the irony to use a common barnyard expletive that is often used as a slang term for feces.

The DEP wouldn’t dignify those kinds of potty-mouth comments, but did say that the park will be a wonderful amenity for the community and that most people will appreciate it.

The plant, which is known for those funky (both stylistically and, it must be said, odoriferously), egg-shaped domes, occupies a few dozen square blocks along the oil-filled creek north of Greenpoint Avenue.

Would-be nature walkers will enter the pathway from Paidge Avenue and Provost Street, and enjoy landscaping that includes trees, shrubs, waterfront seating, wetland grasses and perennial flowers and plants — plus a wall separating all that nature from the sewage plant on the other side.

The pathway is just the first phase of a DEP effort to provide access to the waterfront, the agency said. The next two phases will be completed over five years and extend the path all the way to North Henry Street.

It couldn’t come at a better — or worse time. The federal Environmental Protection Agency reported last week that a massive oil spill that has been seeping under the Newtown Creek area since the 1950s may be twice as big as once suspected.

The DEP will unveil the first phase of the Greenpoint Nature Walk along the waterfront that separates Brooklyn and Queens next week.


Something Sucks — it’s The Brooklyn Paper!

It’s easy to criticize a park when you (and you know who you are) are sitting on your fat ass in Park Slope trying to figure out how to capitalize on the Garden Spot. It’s “hip”. It’s “young”. It’s so… not you, Brooklyn Paper.

Is it just me or does the Smells like Teen Spirit North Brooklyn edition of The Brooklyn Paper sport very little content actually regarding North Brooklyn? It’s usually a few week-old stories and a bunch of other stuff we could care less about. All they— and by they I mean The Brooklyn Paper want to do to is up their circulation numbers so can boost their advertising revenue (yes, I worked in publishing once, surprise!). The fact they are using us to do it makes me angry to no end.

But back to journalistic integrity (or lack thereof). We all know using a comment board on someone else’s blog (READ: Curbed) is the best way to get the word on the street in Greenpoint. A community which, inconveniently enough, is largely populated with blue-collar people without Internets. That’s why unsubstantial shit like the following makes it to print:

I say we toilet paper their park, after all they made our neighborhood smell like a toilet.

God forbid a reporter from The Brooklyn Paper actually set foot in the Garden Garbage Spot and ask us, the revolting peasants we are, what we think. That would entail riding the G TRAIN and doing ACTUAL REPORTING. We might prove to be intelligent. Or find The Brooklyn Paper to be a joke. And we do, by the way.

As a Greenpointer (who converses with other Greenpointers every day) here is a general consensus of what we think the park:

  1. Yes, we think a park next to a sewage treatment plant is funny. Who wouldn’t?
  2. Do we think it is a P.R. ploy by the D.E.P.? DUH!
  3. North Greenpoint has no parks whatsoever. A few of us have the temerity to like it. It is all we got. It is better designed than most of the condominiums going up around us, but The Brooklyn Paper wouldn’t print that. They didn’t see fit to print this either:

More thought, design, materials and over all aesthetics have been put into this Taj Mahal of Poop Processing than all the crappy chrome and glass condos all over the G-point & the Burg.

Somehow the crack reporter for The Brooklyn Paper saw fit to overlook this comment (also from Curbed). I wonder why?

The truth of the matter is a number of things make my neighborhood stink. You have the waste treatment plant, sewage overruns, illegal dumping and Newtown Creek. You cannot separate one from the other. I can, however, state with certainty that The Brooklyn Paper’s attempt at capitalizing off Greenpoint’s misfortune (and ridiculing us in the process) reeks the most.

And as any Greenpointer knows, shit floats.

Miss Heather

P.S.: Those of you who want additional giggles at this paper’s expense should read this article. For reasons beyond my comprehension it turned up on under Greenpoint. It is about how local video stores are suffering at the hands of Netflix. Strangely enough, Photoplay, a Greenpoint institution (which recently expanded into a larger space) is not mentioned. Hmm.

110 Green Street Speaks…

September 23, 2007 ·
Filed under: Crazy People, Dung of the Day, Greenpoint Magic, Other Shit 

about Miss Heather’s intelligence (or lack thereof), her husband’s infidelities and much, much more!

I had honestly not planned on posting much today. After an eight hour long fiasco at La Guardia airport yesterday (which culminated in me coming back home and missing my sister in law’s wedding), I am exhausted. What’s more, I had no idea what to write about. Thankfully, someone who appears to work at 110 Green Street has provided me ample fodder.

Before I continue I want to say I really value the comments I get on New York Shitty. We may not all know each other (or agree), but it is nice to see Greenpointers exchanging ideas and neighborhood intelligence. It gives me some hope that the sense of community here might survive the many (and mostly BAD) changes this neighborhood is currently undergoing.

Conversely, I have no time whatsoever for abusive comments or the people who post them. The previous people should start their own blogs because their rubbish is not going to see the light of day on mine. Save the following nut job. Not only did he see fit to spend the wee hours of the morning hurtling semi-literate abuse my direction, but he also gave his employer (presumably 110 Green Street) more negative publicity than I could ever dream of dishing out!

Ready for some 110 Green Street nastiness? Strap on your safety helmets folks, it’s gonna be a rough ride!

#1. Regarding Seeing Double at 110 Green Street; posted at 2:27 a.m. PST

Nastygram #1

I fail to see what my having a job or not (I do, by the way) has to do with this company’s disregard for the safety and overall well-being of its neighbors.

#2 Regarding Greenpoint: The Napping Spot; posted at 2:41 a.m. PST

Nastygram #2

Not the last time I checked. But if I am can I get a job at 110 Green? Just curious.

#3 Regarding Seeing Double at 110 Green Street (again); posted at 2:50 a.m. PST

Nastygram #3

What’s with this man’s preoccupation with people having a “real JOB”? I guess anyone who isn’t hired to build cheaply made “luxury” condominiums (poke holes into adjacent buildings and pour cement only to jackhammer it back up a week or two later) does not have, in his unique little world view, a “real JOB.” Who knew? I didn’t. But how would I? It has already been established that I am mentally retarded. Perhaps that’s why I don’t have a “real JOB”?

#4 Regarding Hello Suckers; posted at 3:05 a.m. PST

Nastygram #4

You know, this chap might have a point. I probably was the biggest asshole in Greenpoint (which is one word, by the way). WAS. I have been deposed. I’ll give you, dear readers, three guesses by whom.

Thanks again for the writing material “Hammmer38”. If it wasn’t for you today’s offerings would have been kind of dull. I am certain your employer will also thank you for the articulate and professional face you have given his business. With employees like you, who needs enemies?

Miss Heather

P.S.: My husband may be a philanderer, but he is also a Senior Systems Administrator at an Ivy League University. I have charged him with tracing this chap’s IP address. I can hardly wait to learn who this guy is.

UPDATE, 9/25/07: As it would happen, I walked by 110 Green Street Monday, September 24th. The time was 7:25 p.m.

110 Green Street 9/24/07 7:25 p.m.

Business as usual. Wonder if they have a variance to work this late? Probably not. It’s not like they’ve let trivial matters like that bother them before.

Explosive Gas & A Bunch of Hot Air

September 17, 2007 ·
Filed under: Bum Shit, Crazy People, Dung of the Day, Greenpoint Magic, Other Shit 

Last week I came across a comment* on the Gowanus Lounge from an oil spill disbeliever (yes, they really do exist). I couldn’t help but snicker when I read this:

…As for the explosive gas, it was Keyspan natural gas lines that needed to be repaired, not the oil spill.

Maybe he’s right? It’s something else. Just this weekend I saw the remains of a massive explosion on Java Street.

Explosive Gas

It’s the Greenpoint Chili Relleno Spill! Maybe I should contact the EPA and request a vapor test be conducted?

Miss Heather

*Be sure to check out the novel this whack job defender of Greenpoint’s virtue wrote in response to my rebuttal. It’s a hoot! Be sure to strap on your tin foil hat first so the many conspirators behind the vast smear campaign that is the GREENPOINT OIL SPILL won’t come to get you!

Turdy Tomfoolery

September 13, 2007 ·
Filed under: Dung of the Day, Other Shit, Vomit 

One of my credentials for being a Dog Shit Queen has nothing whatsoever to do with dogs; I am the keeper of one of the most disgusting cats that ever walked this planet. After a period of relative inactivity last night “Stinky” (whose real name is Frances) lived up to her moniker with a vengeance.

My first attempt at going to bed was at 9:30. I was very tired. As I laid in bed waiting to doze off, my next door neighbors decided to fire up one of the worst-smelling spliffs I have ever whiffed. One of them even said:

This is the sorriest joint I have ever seen.

As the odor began to waft into my apartment I found myself agreeing with her. Whoever sold this woman that shit must have laughed his (or her) ass off all the way to the bank. “I can’t sleep smelling that shit.” I groused while getting out of bed. I played on the computer for an hour and tried to go back to bed again.

I laid there. I got up and had a glass milk. I resumed laying there. No sleep in Brooklyn.

shugga, shooooogah, shoogah— blech!

Frances deposited a pile of gack on my side of the bed.

G-spot Vomit

Pleased by the artful placement of this pile of puke, “Stinky” elected to do an encore.


“God, will she ever stop?” I thought to myself as the perfume of rancid cat food ravaged my nostrils. She then hopped onto the bed in the hopes of getting a little post-vomitous cuddling. It was midnight. I had yet to fall asleep. This is when a new odor manifested for my olfactory pleasure.


I hopped out of bed and grabbed a paper towel; I know the drill. “Are you going to help me with this Sam?” I shouted.

I’m trying to sleep.

He whined. This was not the answer I was looking for, so I turned on the bedroom light. “You could help me with this, you know.” I said.


He shouted while squirming like a 200+ pound night crawler.


I replied. My husband was born in the year of the pig. This is the only explanation I can come up with as to why he can sleep in a room waller that smells like crap.

It was clear I was on my own so I held Frances down with one hand and proceeded to remove the shit biscuit that was caked to her ass with the other. This is not an easy task when you have 13 pounds of feline resistance fighting you every step of the way. Hubby slept through the entire procedure.

Having accomplished my mission I got an idea. Tip-toeing quietly I sauntered to his side of the bed, leaned over and held this morsel two inches away from his nose. His nose twitched in displeasure, then his eyes opened.


He bellowed.

“I was trying to SLEEP!” he whined. Was, indeed! Tee-hee!

“Tough shit.” I said and proceeded to the kitchen so I could ditch the shit and laugh my ass off.

My ears might have been playing tricks on me, but I swear I heard him mumble the word “bitch” before rolling over and going back to sleep.

Miss Heather

Java Street Jackasses

August 18, 2007 ·
Filed under: Dung of the Day, Other Shit 

Saturdays are serious work days for me. As incomprehensible as it may seem to some, I like this arrangement. When the cubicle monkeys are slaving away, I go out to play. And vice versa. Never shall the two of us meet.

This morning was busier than most. After awakening at 7:45 a.m. and trying to:

  1. write
  2. play around with a few photos I took
  3. compose emails
  4. and failing miserably at all the above

I realized it was 10:15 a.m. Time to go. Fifteen minutes ago. The first item on my agenda was checking out the grand opening of the Yard Gallery on Java Street. What I beheld there was a bit disappointing, but they were still setting up. Greenpointers are not early to rise. Greenpointers may not be healthy or wealthy— but we are wise. Unlike these assholes.

150 Java Street

This is the site of soon-to-be Belvedere XII: 150 Java Street. It was featured in this post. Usually when one is engaged in illegal activity he (or she) tries to be discreet. These contractors were not. Their little heads told their big heads hiss and holler at anything wearing a skirt. Or a kilt— which was what I happened to be wearing at this morning.

In hindsight I realize I was asking for it. I should have known better. The thought of bagpipes and log-tossing gives boners. To idiot boneheads.

Apparently someone took issue with their nefarious (and very noisy activity) this morning, called 311 and filed a complaint with the Department of Buildings regarding “off-hours” construction without a permit. He (or she) was not the only one to do so either.

Will anything come of it? Probably not. Such is the cat and mouse game developers play here nowadays. I know this because people like me (READ: renters) usually end up being losers.*

Miss Heather

*Because we are clearly too poor, stupid and/or lazy to buy a condo. My monetary worth is only good for a nail job. Which (of course) reflects my intellectual aptitude and overall worth as a human being woman.

A Question for the Department of Buildings

August 12, 2007 ·
Filed under: Dung of the Day, Other Shit 

Like many Brooklynites, I did not grow up here. The reason Greenpoint appeals to me is it bears no resemblance whatsoever to the cookie cutter suburbs I once called home. Dallas, Los Angeles or San Antonio, the zip codes may have been different but everything else was pretty much the same. Be they houses, neighborhood associations or even the people. Except for one.

This house was located on the southeastern fringe of our sub-division. Its owners had an aesthetic not shared by their neighbors. If I had to liken the color scheme of this house to anything, I’d call it Whataburger Chic. Their approach to landscape design was equally unorthodox; the flower beds were lined with empty beer bottles and old tires from sixteen wheelers were employed as planters. This property was quite a sight. One I got to behold often; my father made it a point to drive by it each and every time the opportunity presented itself. Nary a trip to the gas station, mall or grocery store was made without beholding this poly-chromatic spectacle.

Some people like to drive through certain neighborhoods at Christmas time to savor the ornate, if tacky, tableaux the residents have erected to glorify the birth of our lord. My father, on the other hand, drove by this house so he would have the opportunity to repeatedly use his name in vain. My father hated this house and he wanted to make sure both my mother and I knew it. We did, in the most base, profane and explicit terms.

This persisted for a month or two until my mother decided she had had enough. One day she offered to drive to the grocery store and my father agreed to it. She’s very clever that way, my mother. She fired up the car and proceeded along a different route. My father was immediately alarmed and asked why she was not taking “Elk Grove”. She said she didn’t want to. He pushed the matter, she pushed back, and in so doing, made it very clear that she was tired of his ranting ad nauseum about “that house“. My dad never drove by it again.

I mention this story because in many ways I am like my father. One significant difference, however, is I make a concerted effort to avoid rage-inducing eyesores. However, when one is reliant on mass transit things can become problematic. Which brings me to this.

609 Manhattan Avenue 8/12/07

I featured this dubious piece of advertising back in June. As I was riding the bus yesterday I noticed it was still there. I made sure to point this out to my husband.

Can you fucking believe this shit? That sign has got to be fucking illegal. The Department of Buildings is cracking down on this kind of thing, you know. Why hasn’t it been taken down? I AM SICK AND FUCKING TIRED OF LOOKING AT THIS PIECE OF SHIT! I HAVE TO LOOK AT THAT UGLY MOTHERFUCKER EVERY TIME I RIDE THE GODDAMN BUS!!!

It was like a flashback to my father— except I had a captive audience of 40 bus patrons. Although no one said anything, I think it is safe to speculate that at least one or two of them probably hate this sign as much as I do. Maybe even more.

On July 25th of this year the Department of Buildings issued a press release announcing their crackdown on illegal advertising. Here’s an excerpt from their tome.

Buildings Commissioner Patricia J. Lancaster, FAIA, today announced the launch of phase two of the Department’s enforcement campaign against illegal advertising. Expanding upon a crackdown on illegal advertising on sidewalk sheds, this second phase targets illegal advertising signs on building walls, which are generally large in size and mounted by anchors to the exterior wall of a building.

This sign is indeed “large in size”, but it is not mounted using anchors. Whoever is responsible for this masterpiece decided to drill right into the building instead.

609 Manhattan Avenue 8/12/07 Detail

This press release goes on to say:

…New York is certainly known for its busy landscape, but not every one of the City’s 950,000 buildings can be used as advertising space. Some zoning districts allow advertising signs on building walls while others do not…

I do not profess to know what the zoning regulations are in Greenpoint. I will profess, however, that this is the only sign of its type (READ: strapped to the front of a building, obstructing windows) that I have seen here. Period. My inner “Nancy Drew” finds this suspect— if for no other reason because if this practice was legal I would probably be seeing a lot more of it. It has been my observation that any means of turning a fast buck at the expense of and/or discomfort to the residents in this neighborhood is rarely left unexploited.

Perhaps this practice is legal? If it is, it shouldn’t be. I am not so simple-minded as to use this eyesore to simply vilify Belvedere Realty. The real villain here are the enablers, be they our fairly (s)elected officials, building and/or zoning regulations and the people who are charged with enforcing them.

Or not.

Miss Heather

P.S.: If anyone from the D.O.B. is reading this, the above photographs were taken today, August 12, 2007. The sign in question is located at 609 Manhattan Avenue. Click here for directions.

Thanks A Lot, Verizon!

August 8, 2007 ·
Filed under: Dung of the Day, Other Shit 

Today’s New York Shitty posts will be delayed because telephone and Internet service are down in a sizable portion of Greenpoint right now. Being the lucky devil I am, I happen to live in the afflicted area. For those of you who are keeping count, this makes five outages in as many weeks for yours truly.
I am left with two options:

  1. Schlep down to my friend’s apartment in Bushwick and work from there.
  2. Wait until 8:10 this evening, which is when Verizon has assured me service will be restored.

I have yet to make a decision. Quite frankly, neither option is very appealing.

Thanks a lot FUCK YOU Verizon! 

Miss Heather

A few thoughts about blogging

August 6, 2007 ·
Filed under: Area 51, Crazy People, Dung of the Day, Other Shit 

As I indicated in the previous post, I called into the Brian Lehrer Show this morning. Since I was not allowed to complete my thoughts about blogging (which extend far beyond gazing upon Brooklyn’s fuzzy gentrifying navel) I am going to post them here.

1. I believe blogs are assuming the role that was once assumed by local (INDEPENDENT) newspapers.

2. If I had to liken the proliferation of blogs (be they neighborhood-based or otherwise) to anything it would be the invention of the printing press. Prior to its invention the Roman Catholic Church was (more or less) the sole distributor/gate keeper of knowledge. With the ability to control what people read (or more importantly what people DON’T read) comes a lot of power. And we all know what absolute power does: it corrupts absolutely.

Shortly after the printing press came into being, Martin Luther quickly saw its potential and exploited it. The end result was a little thing called the Reformation. The ability to disseminate and share information is a very powerful tool; the mainstream media (as “gate keepers”) has begun to realize this and they starting to pay attention to the “blogosphere”. Albeit very, very selectively— which of course, is what happened today*.

I suppose I should be content with getting any air time at all and giving a shout-out to The Gowanus Lounge (which was curiously absent from this forum). But I’m not. Here is a list of blogs I wanted to mention on the air today.

Queens Crap: Sure, this is not a Brooklyn blog, but— and this is a big BUT— it deserves attention. Perhaps it may seem paradoxical to some of you, but I do not envision blogging purely as a Brooklyn endeavor. I suppose being located about 15 minutes from this borough gives me a much broader view of things. My neighborhood (and its “growing pains”) have much more in common with Long Island City or Sunnyside than Park Slope or Brooklyn Heights.

To purely focus on Brooklyn is not only an insult to the hard-working and very dedicated bloggers in the other four boroughs, but it also fosters a (somewhat) false notion that Brooklyn bloggers are a smug, clannish and contented lot of well-to-do “white people”. Once again, race was drug across the floor like a red herring and once again it worked.

Confusing race with “class” is astonishingly myopic and naive. One need not be a minority to be poor— but it helps. Contrary to popular belief, poverty is not an indicator of lack of discipline or personal worth. I speak from experience. Even though I was provided a very comfortable upbringing and excellent education, when I started working my lifestyle radically shifted. Downward.

As the incomparable Dorothy Parker once said:

If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to.

Some call me a “gentrifier”. I probably am. But as a person who lives in a rent-stabilized apartment (and does not have the luxury of or ability to buy a condo) in a “hot” neighborhood, I have the presence of mind to know I am in danger of being displaced. Just like my less-affluent (and largely Hispanic) neighbors. Their concerns and mine are one and the same.

Atlantic Yards Report: Norman Oder’s dedication and hard work should not be ignored. While we may not agree on some things, I cannot over-emphasize how important his work is. He deserves to be heard.

Outside.In: They seem to be paying attention to the recent (and ongoing) proliferation of Greenpoint bloggers.

Dave Kenny and Xris Kreussling, of Dope on the Slope and Flatbush Gardener respectively: It is one thing to bemoan the lack of diversity at the Brooklyn Blogfest, it is another to actually try and do something about it. Both of these gentleman were of vital importance in the creation of monthly blogger meet-ups. I mention this because Louise Crawford of Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn seems to be garnering most of the credit. Not only is this a tremendous disservice to both of the previous gentleman, it is downright false. I could not have organized last month’s meet-up without their help.

On that note, I have to say organizing the Greenpoint meet-up was very challenging. One of the obstacles I faced was the perception that this meet-up would be a repeat of the Brooklyn Blogfest. While I can understand that some might find “Smartmom” to be good reading over that first cup of coffee in the morning, the fact of the matter is many people do not. For this reason I made a concerted effort to contact people directly and to a certain degree it worked— although not in the manner I had expected. It was much better.

Not only did a lot of number of new faces show up, but they were very talented ones at that! Many of the attendees operate food-oriented blogs. To name a few of them:

A Dash of Bitters

Last Night’s Dinner


I Luv Pork

Brooklyn Nester

In closing, I’d like to say that I am very excited about September’s meet-up in Bedford-Stuyvesant. My only fear is that today’s episode of the Brian Lehrer Show might have scared off a number of Brooklyn (or Queens) bloggers who would otherwise have been inclined to attend.

Including myself.

This post was brought to you courtesy of one 24 oz. can of Coors. Now back to our regular programming.

Miss Heather

*This is in no way intended to be critical of BushwickBK or Bed-Stuy Blog.

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