Posted in: Hustle Is Posting Right Now Hustle Is Posting Right Now: Volume 57 ("Halloween Tale" Edition)
By Hustle
Oct 27, 2009 - 8:36:17 PM
Good lookin out, Ro.
"I say it how I feel and I do it how I like.. I write what I see, what I do, and what I know.."
This week's intro line is brought to us by one-half of one of hip-hop's greatest groups. The group? UGK. The spitter? It's none other than Bun B. I'm not one of those clowns that have to try all sorts of tricks and put on different types of acts to get their point across. Nope. I'm as real as it gets. Welcome, one and all, to yet another edition of the column that could take over the world if it really wanted to, but it's peaceful enough to know when to fall back.. Hustle Is Posting Right Now. I'm your host for the day, and I just happen to be the man who's going absolute banana on Twitter (damn near 700 tweets and counting.. come and follow me and my thoughts on ev-a-ry-damn-thang @HustleLOP).. ya boy, Hustle, is back in the building. How the heck are you, ReaderLand? I hope everything is extra spiffy in your lives. As usual, I'm sitting on borrowed time, so I don't want to dilly-dally any more than usual. I think it's about that time. Shall I proceed? (Yes, indeed.) Less dew eet!!
"TRICK OR TREAT!!"
Damn, hearing that phrase brought back a lot of memories for me. I used to love going trick-or-treating as a kid, coming home a few hours later with multiple pillowcases full of every type of candy and chocolate on God's green earth, and then spending the next couple of days getting myself sick as a dog by eating damn near every piece that I acquired.
"TRICK OR TREAT!!"
I suppose it was time to answer the door. I head to the door and grab a bag of mini Snickers bars on the table. As I open the door to greet the kiddies, I see some of the more "expected" things.. a ghost, a princess, one of the Twilight vampires, and Stewie Griffin. However, as I'm handing out the candy, I notice that there's also someone standing there that sticks out just a bit. He's much taller than the other ankle-biters that are there. I don't pay it much attention, thinking he's the father of one of the children trick-or-treating. He's got to be at least 6'2" tall, he's wearing a long, dark trench coat, and his entire face is painted in some sort of black and white design. At his side, a black baseball bat. As the kids move on to the next home, the man raises the bat and points it directly at me, holding it a mere inch or two away from the tip of my nose.
"Uh, can I help you, sir?"
The guy is really starting to creep me out. He just continues to stare at me and point his bat, all while staying totally silent. I stare back at him.
He stares back at me.
I stare back at him.
We really aren't accomplishing anything doing this. Just as I'm about to go back inside and close my door, he lowers the bat slowly.
"Hustle, you may not know who I am, Hustle, but trust me, Hustle, you need to listen to everything I have to tell you, Hustle."
How the hell does he know my name? Why the hell is he talking like that?
"How do you know my name?"
"I know everything, Hustle, for I am The Ghost Of Halloween Past, Hustle."
"The what of Halloween what? Why do you keep speaking that way?"
"The Ghost Of Halloween Past, Hustle. I'm here, Hustle, to show you what the world of pro wrestling would be like if you didn't write your columns, Hustle. As for the way I'm speaking, Hustle, I don't know what you mean. I'm as normal as they come, Hustle."
"You consider this to be normal?"
"Hustle, there's nothing wrong.."
*interrupting* "Fuck it, nevermind."
I had to close the door on this psychopath before he tried to touch me inappropriately. I toss the bag of Snickers back onto the table with the rest of the candy, and I walk back towards the couch, but as I turn around, I'm nearly knocked to the floor as I bump into something.
A tall something.
A 6'2" tall something.
A 6'2" tall something in a dark trench coat.
"Hustle, I really think you should listen to me, Hustle."
FUCKTHEFUCKINGFUCK. How did he get in here?!?
"My dude, what the fuck is going on?!? How did you get in here?!?"
"I've told you twice before, Hustle. I'm The Ghost Of Halloween Past, Hustle."
"What the hell do you want from me?"
"Hustle, I've heard the rumors that you had a thought or two about not writing columns anymore, Hustle, so I'm here to show you a few things about the world of professional wrestling, Hustle.. what would've happened had you never started writing in the first place, what would immediately happen if you stop, and what will become of the sport in the long-term if you don't go back to writing again.. Hustle."
Whoa. I hadn't shared that information with anyone, either in my "real life" or in "cyber life", so that's pretty trippy that he knew about it.
"Do you believe me now, Hustle?"
I guess he noticed the puzzled look I had on my face. I was still a little skeptical, but I was starting to believe him now. There's no other way he could've known about my writing intentions.
"Y-y-yes.."
He held his hand out, and motioned for me to walk over to him. I'm not going to lie, but that weirded me out a little bit. I didn't see much other choice, though, so I did. As soon as I was standing right next to him, he placed his hand on my shoulder, and within milliseconds, there was a huge flash of light, followed by total darkness. Much like a movie theater once a movie is over, the light began to fade slowly in from the darkness, and we weren't in my house anymore. It was a familiar place, though, but I couldn't quite place my finger on where we were. The walls, the artwork, the carpet, the furniture.. every bit of it was something I had seen before. Then, I watched myself walk into the room.
Let me repeat that one more time..
I watched myself walk into the room.
I stood there, looking at myself, only it wasn't the "me" of today. Instead, it was the "me" of years ago, when I was a little kid and first started getting into the sport of pro wrestling. There I was, in my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas, holding a big bowl of Apple Jacks cereal, plopping myself down in front of the TV.
"You're probably wondering, Hustle, and the answer is simple.. we can see and hear everything that is going on around us, Hustle, but nobody else can see or hear us, Hustle."
I was getting pretty emotional seeing this. It's hard to describe the feelings that go through you when you travel back in time and watch yourself as a child. It's also hard to describe the feelings that go through you when you have to type a sentence like that. On the TV screen, Ric Flair, in all his stylin-and-profilin goodness, was cutting a promo, talking about how much his suit cost him. Damn, I miss Ric Flair.
"So, what exactly is going on? Do we just stand here and watch.. me.. watch TV?"
"Patience, Hustle. Soon, you will see exactly why we're here, Hustle."
As Flair continued cutting his promo, everything seemed perfectly normal, other than the fact that, at that very moment, I was standing behind myself. Just then, the studio crowd popped, and Flair turned his head to the side, only to be bumrushed by another person. The attacker was all over Flair, laying into him with rights and lefts, as NWA announcer David Crockett called for security to come out and stop the fight. Within seconds, security was out there, and, after a bit of a struggle, they finally did pull the attacker off of Flair. The camera zoomed in, and it was..
Mike Von Erich.
Wait.. Mike Von Erich?!? The Mike Von Erich that set pro wrestling back in the mid-80s and almost single-handedly put his family legacy to shame? Before I could turn to TGoHP and say anything, I heard Von Erich say the words that sent a chill down my spine.
"I'll see you in the ring tonight, Flair, and I WILL be walking home with the NWA World Title whether you like it or not!"
I really didn't like where this was going.
"Please tell me this isn't actually going to happen. Mike Von Erich was the drizzling shits."
"I've already told you, Hustle.. this is what the world of professional wrestling would've been like had you not decided to start writing columns, Hustle."
Because I was still trying to get over the time travel aspect of things, and because Mike F'N Von Erich was in line to become the new NWA Champion, I completely forgot to question him on the lack of sense in the space-time continuum, and just how things would've changed in wrestling a whole 20-ish years before I ever wrote my first column. Instead, I stood there silent, and watched as the ring introductions took place for the Flair VS Von Erich match.
"This.. this isn't really happening.. is it? I mean.. Mike Von Erich? Really? What's going on?"
"Watch, Hustle. Watch and learn, Hustle."
The opening bell rang, and the two wrestlers locked up. It was a stalemate for a while, so they split up, and then locked horns once again. This time, Flair backed Von Erich into a turnbuckle, broke the collar and elbow tie-up, then nailed him with one of his trademark knife-edge chops. Good ol' Ric.
Von Erich no-sold it. Wait.. really?
Flair chopped him again.
Once again, it was no-sold by the shitty Von Erich brother, who then turned the tides, tossing Flair into the turnbuckle, and absolutely going to town on him with punches and chops. He backed away, and Flair took an angry step out of the turnbuckle before falling with a perfect Flair Flop. Good ol' Ric.
Von Erich got down on the mat, rolled Ric over, and went for the pin..
1..
2..
and..
..holy shit, Mike Von Erich just pinned Ric Flair to become the brand new NWA World Heavyweight Champion. When the hell did this all happen?!? Young Hustle turned off the TV, dejected, and walked to his room with his head down, looking as though someone had shot his monkey. He was just too through. He didn't even have enough spirit left to finish his Apple Jacks, and they just sat there in the bowl on the floor, getting soggier by the second.
"As you see, Hustle, things happened quite differently since you're never deciding to write your columns, Hustle."
"I.. I.. I can't take any more of this, Ghost. It's just too depressing. I mean, come on.. Mike Von Erich?!? Have you ever seen that guy wrestle?!? If my brother was that awful, I'd shoot myself in the face, too."
"Yes, Hustle, he was a terrible wrestler. However, because you went on to do something else with your life, Hustle, he went on to achieve great things in the world of pro wrestling, Hustle. In fact, this was the first of nine NWA World Title reigns that he'd have before he retired."
"My God, I can't do this. Take me home, Ghost. Please? I beg of you."
He didn't say a word. Instead, he merely nodded and placed his hand on my shoulder again. Just like the last time, there was a huge flash of light, followed by total darkness, which faded itself back into regular light. When the light was back on, I was back in my "new" house, but Ghost was nowhere to be seen. I walked around and looked into every room, but no Ghost. I even opened the front door and checked outside, but he wasn't there, either. I walked over to the couch and sat down in pure, unadulterated stunned silence. As soon as I closed my eyes to take it all in, though, the doorbell rang. A second later, it rang again, but there was no sound outside, especially of costumed children eagerly anticipating a handful of chocolatey goodness. I went to the door and looked out the peephole, but I didn't see anybody.. or anything. Just as I was set to walk back to the couch, the doorbell rang again. Dreading the outcome, I opened the door. There stood a decently sized man with bleached blonde spiky hair and a creepy-looking blonde goatee. He looked at me with a cocky smirk on his face, then it went dark all around him, except for a spotlight that was solely on him. I looked left and right, but I couldn't find where the hell the spotlight was. He looked up to the sky and raised one hand up as if ready to grab something. When I looked up, I'll be damned if there wasn't an old-school style boxing microphone coming out of the sky, dropping directly into his hand. Where.. the.. fuck.. did.. that.. come.. from?!?
"Ladies and gentlemen, I come to you, weighing in at 243 pounds. I hail from Green Bay, Wisconsin. I am.. The Ghost Ooooooooooooooooooof.. Halloween.. Present.."
"I really should've known it was.."
*interrupting* "..Present!"
"Don't ever do that again."
"Mind if I come in?"
I stepped aside and motioned for him to make his way into my house, so he did just that. Before closing the door, I searched around for a spotlight, or for where the microphone was coming from.. but I still didn't see anything. After closing the door, I turned around to see the new Ghost walking towards my couch. There must have been a slick spot on the hardwood floor or something, because he slipped a bit, banging his foot into the leg of the coffee table.
"Son of a bitch!! I think I broke my toe!!"
"Dude, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'll be alright. That shit hurt, though! Damnit!"
What a pussy.
"I'm sure you've already figured out why I'm here and what's going on, right?"
"Yeah, you're going to do some sort of voodoo mumbo jumbo, and I'll be transported to sometime in the current time frame, where I'll watch myself watching wrestling of some sort. During said wrestling, a grievous occurance will take place, causing me to throw up in my mouth a little, where I will then ask you to take me home, bringing me back here, and sending you to wherever the hell it is you came from in the first place."
"You're good."
Just like that, the familiar huge flash of light hit, followed by the also-familiar total darkness. When the lights came back on, I saw myself again, only this time, it was the "current" me. In fact, it was what I wore yesterday. Hey, Raw's about to start. Cool. Wait.. oh no.. Raw's about to start..
"Watch carefully. I don't think you're going to like this very much."
After the intro and the pyro display that welcomes viewers to the ring, a familiar song was heard playing throughout the arena.
"I can slam a tornado.."
FUCK!
I watched as Matt Hardy came walking to the ring, but he wasn't alone. Right behind him were R-Truth, The Great Khali, and.. Rob Terry? Huh? That's when I noticed it..
Each one of them had a title belt draped over their shoulder. Oh, this is just sick. They all got in the ring, and we were set for a promo. Just great.
"Attention, WWE Universe, it is I, your Master Of Mattitude, and your brand new WWE Champion.. Matt Hardy. Thank you, thank you. Hold your applause. Last night, at Bragging Rights, I defeated John Cena in a grueling Ironman Match to win this belt. Well, it was grueling for him, anyway. I didn't lose a single fall, and I lost track of how many times I beat him. However, you may have noticed these gentlemen standing behind me, and you might be wondering just why they're here. Being the great leader that I am, I shall answer your questions and shed light on the entire world. R-Truth was, to put it mildly, floundering on Smackdown. He had no real direction, and wasn't getting anything of note accomplished. I went over and had a conversation with him, and I convinced him to jump to Raw once his Smackdown contract was up. I continued to talk to him.. to guide him.. and with his new found Mattitude, he became the new United States Champion in only his second week here. These other two men are here for a slightly different reason. Khali is an icon in his homeland of India, and the same can be said about Rob Terry in the United Kingdom. I have a half-dozen business degrees, so I understand a good opportunity when I see one, and I saw one here. Khali and Terry provide me with the backup that I need. In return, I provide them with the guidance and the wisdom that they've been searching for since the day they became wrestlers. I also help to market them here in North America, while they help build the Mattitude brand name in their home countries. When they beat MVP and Mark Henry last night to become Unified Tag Team Champions, that merely sealed the deal, and tonight.. Mattitude International is born."
I could barely keep my eyes open. It's excruciating to hear that guy speak for any length of time, let alone as he cuts a full-length in-ring promo to start an episode of Raw. With all that suck in the ring at one time, I would've expected the ring to implode into itself and never be seen again.
"Do you see what is happening because of your decision?"
"You don't say a whole lot, do you?"
"I'm not as good a speaker as a lot of people make me out to be."
"Trust me, I've noticed. Yes, I see what is happening. I see it very clearly. Who in their right mind decided it was a good idea to give these asshats title belts?"
"Keep watching."
The familiar guitar intro to "Iron Man" could then be heard in the arena, and out stepped Vince Russo to a large face pop. He had a mic in his hand, and he didn't look very happy at all.
"Sweet cream on an ice cream sammich! Why?!?"
"The McMahon family all passed away in a tragic boating accident. Vince Russo stepped in and he bought the company. He's the new CEO."
I nearly fainted on the spot. The fans seemed to be eating this shit up with a spoon, which is strange, especially considering the show was being held in Toronto, and their fans are pretty notoroious for being "smarky". In no way, shape, or form did I think they'd enjoy seeing Khali and Terry together as a team, or seeing Russo at all, let alone in a position of power.
"Send me back. Send.. me.. back."
"Hold on, let me go grab a soda."
That son of a bitch invited himself to take one of my sodas. Fucker. As he walked back with one, he opened it, and some of it splashed up into his eyes, temporarily blinding him, which caused him to step wrong and roll his ankle over one of my shoes, where he then fell to the ground and hit his head on the edge of the wall, knocking him out cold. Damn, this guy gets injured a lot, for whatever reason. I couldn't wait, though. I leaned down, grabbed his hand, placed it on my shoulder, and sent myself back into the "here and now".
"That was one annoying guy. Holy shit, I'm talking to myself! Get a grip, Hustle."
If what the first Ghost said was correct, I was still set to be visited by one more Ghost before all was said and done. The past was awful, and the present was just brutal.. just thinking about what the future held made my skin crawl. To ease my mind for a moment, I decided to go check the mail. All that was inside my mailbox was a letter addressed to a "Mr Hustle". There was no mailing address, but the sender was listed as "TGoHF". The.. Ghost.. of.. what the hell? The final Ghost wrote me a letter? For reasons I may never quite understand, I opened the letter and decided to read it aloud.
"Dear Mr Hustle, I am sending you this letter to inform you that, because of your decision to not become a wrestling columnist, the future of the industry became quite bleak. As a matter of fact, professional wrestling has, for the most part, died in North America, and in many other countries around the world. The down economy, mixed with the continued problems the sport has seen with drug addiction, became quite the lethal cocktail. With everything that you've seen tonight, from Mike Von Erich as the NWA World Champion to Mattitude International dominating Raw to the global collapse of the wrestling business, I strongly urge you to change your mind about your column-writing future. The damage you can cause by walking away will be tremendous, and cannot be repaired. Please, Mr Hustle, do the right thing. If not for yourself, then for the huddled masses. Thank you for your time. Sincerely, The Ghost Of Halloween Future."
Well, that didn't really explain why a letter was written, while the other two had to pay me personal visits. I absolutely hate it when stories don't make any sense, and there are shortcuts taken to get around various plotholes. Let's see, though.. the past was fucked, the present got fucked, and the future died out completely. I don't want that to happen. I need to re-write history. I can't leave columns alone, the game needs me!
I'm back, and I'm (hopefully) better than ever!
Happy Halloween, everyone.
Mini Writer's Note: To everyone who has plans for Halloween, have a blast. If you're going to a party, do it big, but do it safe. If you're going trick-or-treating, stay away from the crazy people that want to give you apples and other "healthy alternatives", because this isn't a holiday for proper dieting. If you're taking a loved one trick-or-treating, you're doing a very special deed, and you should be proud of yourselves. Special shout-outs to those taking their children out tonight, and especially those with kids who are experiencing their very first Halloween. Get em something good, perhaps a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, in honor of Uncle Hustle. See you next time, my peoples.
Hustle Highlight Of The Week: John Cena. Randy Orton. Ironman Match. In my previous column, I mentioned just how scared I was at the thought of those two wrestling each other for an entire hour, but let me just say this right off the bat.. I was blown away at how entertaining the match was. Absolutely, positively entertained. I'd say the match was 4 stars, easy, and I'd probably have it ranked closer towards 4.5 stars if I had to choose. Orton wins the award for "Best Psychological Performance Of The Year", and maybe even for the past several years. He stole the show with his antics and his demeanor. It was just a really, really well put-together match. Am I a John Cena fan? Of course I am, but as you loyal readers will know, it's not like I blindly praise the guy and have his matches in this section of my column every time I write, so there's no bias involved in my opinion of the Ironman. I understand that there's a gripe over how many falls there were, and a part of me sees it that way, as well, but another part of me sees it as the current "target" demographic for the company needs something more than a single pinfall in 62 minutes, like when Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels had their Ironman Match back at WrestleMania 12. In another week or two, once the initial buzz wears off, I'll go back and re-watch the match, but I don't think my opinion will change much. Just a solid, solid match, and one that surprised the hell out of me with just how entertaining it was from start to finish. Kudos to both men, and to anybody else that helped put it together.
Writer's Note: Not all that tremendously long ago, LordsOfPain.net was graced by a column series that was sometimes controversial (for numerous reasons). The author appeared out of thin air, basically, but also disappeared just as mysteriously. This writer brought something.. different.. to the table, both in terms of writing ability, as well as in the looks department. In case you haven't already figured it out, I'm referring to the author of "Pnk's Thnks".. Pnk.
The reason I bring her up is that she's the reason behind a brand new contest I'm having here in HIPRN entitled "Win A Date With Pnk". I'm the writer that, many moons ago, taught you how to have swagger. Now is your chance to put that swagger to use. Yes, folks.. Team Sleep presents this totally real contest, where YOU could win a date with Pnk herself. Here's all you have to do to enter..
Using the regular ways of getting in contact with me (E-Mail, AIM, Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, LoPForums.com PM, my feedback thread at LoPForums.com, Text Message, etc), tell me that you want to be a part of the contest, and then tell me, in 100 words or less, why you deserve the date with Pnk. From there, your application questionnaire will be sent to you. Get it filled out and sent back to me, and we'll go from there. The esteemed panel of judges will go over the applications and choose who we think is the most deserving and most compatible with Pnk, and a winner will then be chosen. There's no timetable for when entries will no longer be accepted. It will all depend on how many entries are received, so get in where you fit in, and let's see if I can play e-Cupid and find love for two lucky folks. Once again, this is a 100% real contest, so you don't have to worry about anything. None of your personal information will be posted for the public to see, whether it's your e-mail address, or exactly what you fill out the application with, so feel free to be comfortable and honest with your answers.
Good luck, and let's see if we can warm some people up for the upcoming Winter months ahead.
Writer's Note Part Deux: To all that have been asking me for my answers to these two questions, here you go..
Phillies over Yankees in 7 games
Lakers over Magic in 5 games (REPEAT!)
What Hustle Is Listening To Right Now: "Gun Harmonizing" by Royce Da 5'9 & Crooked I.. "Dinner Time" by Royce Da 5'9 & Busta Rhymes.. "Something 2 Ride 2" by Royce Da 5'9 & Phonte.. "Far Away" by Royce Da 5'9.. "No Sleep Til Brooklyn" by Beastie Boys.. "This Is It" by Michael Jackson.. "Can't Truss It" by Public Enemy.. "Solar Midnite" by Lupe Fiasco.. "Crime Wave" by 50 Cent.. "Crime Wave (Freestyle)" by Joell Ortiz.. "Run This Town (Freestyle)" by Joell Ortiz.. "Pretty Brown Eyes (Remix)" by Amerie, Trey Songz, & Lloyd Banks.. "Slow Jam" by Keri Hilson.. "sobeautiful" by Musiq.. "Cypher" by Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9, & Horse Shoe Gang.. "S.O.S." by Collie Buddz.. "Gimme Love" by Collie Buddz.. "Ehu Girl" by Kolohe Kai.. "Cloud Nine" by One Groove.. "Show Me" by Nesian Nine.. "Missing You" by Lukie D.. "Tracks Of My Tears" by Jon Yamasato.. "Back Up Offa Me" by Talib Kweli.. "We Know" by Talib Kweli & Faith Evans.. "I Try" by Talib Kweli & Mary J Blige.. "Around My Way" by Talib Kweli & John Legend.. "Beautiful Struggle" by Talib Kweli.. "Ghetto Show" by Talib Kweli, Common, & Anthony Hamilton.. "Everything Man" by Talib Kweli.. "An Open Letter To NYC" by Beastie Boys.. "Hustlin" by Rick Ross.. "A Dope Story" by Killer Mike.. "Through The Wire" by Kanye West.. "Spaceship" by Kanye West, GLC, & Consequence.. "Jesus Walks" by Kanye West.. "Never Let Me Down" by Kanye West, Jay-Z, & J Ivy.. "Get Em High" by Kanye West, Talib Kweli, & Common.. "Two Words" by Kanye West, Mos Def, Freeway, & The Harlem Boys Choir.. "Welcome To Jamrock" by Damian Marley.. "Khaki Suit" by Damian Marley, Bounty Killer, & Eek-A-Mouse.. "Me Name Jr Gong" by Damian Marley.. "It Was Written" by Damian Marley, Stephen Marley, Capleton, & Drag-on.. "Born To Be Wild" by Damian Marley.. "Educated Fools" by Damian Marley, Bounty Killer, Bunny Wailer, & Treach.. "There They Go" by Obie Trice, Eminem, Trick Trick, & Big Herc.. "Everywhere I Go" by Obie Trice & 50 Cent.. "I Ain't Goin Out Like That" by Cypress Hill.. "Insane In The Brain" by Cypress Hill.. "How I Could Just Kill A Man" by Cypress Hill.. "Tequilla Sunrise" by Cypress Hill
Yes, indeed.. that's another one bagged, tagged, and ready to push out the trap. A round of applause for everyone that stuck around for yet another edition of HIPRN. I felt like having a little bit of fun this time out (like I don't have fun every other time), so I went with something silly. Not my best work, I know, but eh.. it's something different nonetheless. Once again, don't forget to hit me up on Twitter, just to keep up with me and my goings-on, even when I'm not posting columns. Speaking of columns, I'm not 100% sure yet, but I might be returning with my next edition much sooner than 21 days from now. From there, let's just say that I might be posting juuuuust a bit more frequently.. perhaps even.. daily. Whenever my next column arrives, it'll be about the Hulk Hogan/Eric Bischoff/TNA situation, that's all I can tell you at the moment. Keep your fingers crossed and your peepers peepin for that. Until then, I'm St Elsewhere like William Daniels, nah'mean? From the home state of Shane Victorino, I bid you farewell. Aloha and Mahalo Nui Loa.
”I'm exceedin expectations, you barely meetin quota.. I give it to em straight, you cut it with baking soda..”
Hustle HIPRNFeedback@gmail.com
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