198 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
198 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
______ ______ ______________
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\ / \ / ____ \ ______|
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| |________| | / \ | |____
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| ________ | ( {} ) | _____)
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/~~~~~~~~~~~ | | | | \____/ | |______ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~\
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| |~~~~~~~ / \ / \ / | ~~~~~~~~~| |
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| | |______| |______| /_____________| | |
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| | ...Hogs of Entropy Text Files Present... | |
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| | "Everything Inbetween" | |
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| | By: IM2K4U2C | |
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\ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ /
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Hate me. Hate me with your fist and hate me with your tounge. Hate me with
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your actions and hate me with your words. Hate me because you love yourself.
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Hate me. Hate me because I hate myself. Hate me. Pretty good year, pretty
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good year, pretty good tear. Dripping down my cheek. Hate me. Hate me because
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I love and hate me because I am loved. Hate me because I hate myself.
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I wait patiently for a scream. There's a face that I want to see that's
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not here. I forget why I'm here.
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In his song _God_, John Lennon professed his disbelief in the existence
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of God. He said that God is a concept, by which we measure our pain, and then
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went on to say that he didn't believe in either the Bible or Jesus. The
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existence of a God has been one of the most widely debated topics throughout
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human history. Wars have been fought. People died. Uncountable people have
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died arguing the qualities of their God. The question remains: Was Lennon
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right? Was God just something put together by humans who needed something to
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hold onto, when everything else had left them?
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I was there. I was there and I felt that I was being brainwashed. I
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thought that they were trying to convert me into something that I was not.
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Two plus two equals four, I mumbled, in my weak and trembling voice, as they
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took their book and waved it in front of my face. I took my life and I waved
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it in front of theirs. You're fascists, I told them, but they didn't listen.
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They just opened their books and began to read, shutting out my voice, and
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tuning into one that they could not even hear. The voice of God.
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And I wondered how anyone could still believe in God. How could every pew
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of the church be filled with men, women, and children? How could these
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people willingly sit and allow themselves to be brainwashed? How could these
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people subject their children to it?
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I could see the priest as Hitler, shouting out to the masses at Nuremberg,
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convincing people with promises of a future that would never come to be. And
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the priest/Hitler would smile, and the crowd would erupt into loud cheers, as
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if they were seeing God itself, rather than a human who was wearing a God
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mask. And then I realized how every pew of the church could be filled. When
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these men and women were children, their parents took them to church, and it
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was there that they were first brainwashed. And the cycle has just been
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repeating and repeating over the generations, as they would take their
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children, and their children would take their own children. And the cycle
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kept spitting out more and more people that were ignorant spelled out in the
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Bible. According to the Bible, the Earth should be a little over four-
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-thousand years old. Through the use of carbon-fourteen-dating, we know that
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the world is roughly four million years old. How could the Bible, the word of
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God, be wrong? How could God be wrong? How could millions of people ignore
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the truth?
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Add that to the fact that the Bible had been written by humans; humans
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just like you and me, who were fallible and subject to human faults. Humans,
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who just as Lennon said, could been constructing their own little fantasies
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to keep themselves from the pain that all people feel. And I wondered how
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anyone could still believe in God.
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I thought I was being brainwashed, and I was right. Faceless men with
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boring voices were trying to turn me into something that I was not. They
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were trying to make me forget a life that I was more than happy to be
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living. They were trying to get me to sacrifice the only thing that I had,
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which was myself.
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If it had affected me, it was in a way that I could not notice. If it had
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taken me from where I was, then there was no way that I could tell. All in a
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world where Jews and Arabs are still killing each other over there own
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perceptions of God, and respect is more important than a child's life.
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HATE ME. Hate me with your pen and hate me with your paper. Hate me with
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your kiss and hate me with your touch. Hate me because I love myself. Hate
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me. Do you need a woman to look after you? I pick one of the daisies out of
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the ground and it dies. You make pretty daisies hate me. Hate me because I
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am me and only me. Hate me because I love myself.
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We give them our money. We give them our money hoping that the fat in our
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thighs will disappear, hoping that our noses will shrink, hoping that the red
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blotches on our faces will disappear, hoping that we'll begin to look less
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like ourselves and more like the people that we see. We give them our money
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to become something that we're not.
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I want to write a poem about hate. I want to write words that hate and
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that claw and that rip and that hurt.
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If it had affected me, it was in a way that I could not notice. If it had
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taken me from where I was, then there was no way that I could tell. In the
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end though, a fundamental change had taken place and although the revolution
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was silent, it had occurred, and as long as it had, then that was enough.
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And what are we left with? A world too conscious of it's own image that it
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won't even look upon itself? A newspaper that serves only to gratify and
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glorify those who contribute to it? Or someone with so much to say but
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possessing no voice with which to say it? In a world with so many questions,
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is it any wonder that the search for answers only leads us to more of them?
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And when the change had happened were they too ignorant to see it or too
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intelligent to perceive it? Probably a little of both. Is what went around
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finally coming back around? They say that ignorance is no excuse from the
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law. Why the hell not?
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What do you find in a kiss? You find whatever it is you're looking for.
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If you're lucky, you might find yourself. What do you find in a kiss?
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Nothing and everything at once.
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A funny thing happened to me on the way to my wedding: I woke up. What's
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funny is that in dreams we don't ask each other about how we're going to
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support ourselves. We don't ask each other about health insurance or
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children or about what's going to be on the table for dinner. I look into
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her eyes and love consumes all thought and becomes not only the ends, but
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the means as well. It is a sad society that we live in where money dictates
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so much of what we do. That money could influence such a primal urge as love
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is one thing. But that it could cause New York City EMS workers not to
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resuscitate an infant due to fear of lawsuits, is something totally
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different. There is something morally wrong with this. It's no secret that
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Americans as a majority have screwed up morals, but to let an innocent child
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die because money's at risk, that's sick.
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Dead flowers hang from the ceiling. A dead flower lies in a glass on a
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shelf. Untouched for years. Dead flowers lie beneath a blanket of snow.
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Ready to bloom again in the spring. Dead flowers, untouched for years. A
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wilting soul, untouched for years. Love and hate and everything in between.
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Everything in between. Everything is not what it seems.
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That is humanity. This is the future and more and more the promise of
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such things as Virtual Reality and the "In-ph0-mation Superhighway" look to
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be farther off in the distance, Interactive television looking more and more
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like an over glorified _Captain Power_. This stuff is going to cost millions
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if not billions of dollars. Where is that kind of capital going to come from?
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Will it be just another part of the Federal deficit? This is technology that
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could change our lives at a fundamental level, as much, or even more than
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television has done. Will it be given a chance? Probably not. The point? We
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are fundamentally made to believe that money is the most important substance
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around. What's sad is that in today's society, it is. Maybe the revolution
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was a bit too quiet.
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I write the conclusion before I write anything else, because every ending
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is just another beginning.
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Sarcasm? Oh, what's the use of any of it? We all just pass on in the end
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and nobody remembers us. I should just do what every sane youth in my town
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is doing: Settle back with a cool frosty one in the company of my friends,
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passing the night away in a hazy stupor. Better yet, I could partake in my
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standard night time activity: getting comfortable in front of the television,
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while occupying myself with other functions.
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Television? Television is not about entertainment, and is most certainly
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not about all of the things that Ricki Lake tells us. Television has one
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goal, and one goal only: To make money. One only has to look at the decline
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of network television and the rise of premium cable channels, as well as
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_Pay-Per-View_, to see that people are coming up with even more ways to make
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money off of TV. People have taken a viable medium that could actually help
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us and turned it into yet another way to turn a fast buck. One must think
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that even if Cyberspace did come about, would there be commercials? Yes.
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Untouched for years a soul blooms again with a touch. A dead flower lies
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in a glass on a shelf. I pick it up and drink the air out of it. I drink
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the memories and the essence and the fragrance. A rose that's been dead for
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too long is touched by love, hate, and everything in between.
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But flowers still grow. Even in the battered, desolate soil of Sarajevo,
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seeds still fall to the ground, blossoming into beautiful flowers, amidst
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the civil war and murder. As I write this, the face of a young girl smiles
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the most beautiful smile that I've ever seen somewhere, in some other place
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far off. I know it's happening and I need no further proof then this to
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know that there is still hope. No further proof that there is a point to it
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all. To every pessimist, there is an optimistic side. To every record, there
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is a flip side.
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I've lived my life surrounded by confusing, poetry-genius wannabes. I
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lived my life around people that tried their hardest to be deep when they
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were truly shallow. I hated them. Now I am one of them.
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You find what you want to find in life. You find what you want to find
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in love and hate and everything in between.
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|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|
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| _____ Call Goat Blowers Anonymous for the LATEST HOE! _____ |
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| 6/ ^..^ (215) 750 - 0392 ^..^ \9 |
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| \_____(oo) This Issues Featured Support Board is: (oo)_____/ |
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| WW WW Psychotic Reflections WW WW |
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| (718) 981 - 6387 |
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| ...the kings of modern goofiness... |
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Copyright (c) 1994 HoE Publications and IM2K4U2C. #63 -> 04/12/95
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All rights Reserved.
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