Work

I don’t know how this discussion on comparing working in porn to other professions got started.  I’ve never worked in porn so I can only speculate as to the degree of difficulty of working in the business.  All I can do is compare my ideas of it, which while you think I am not being objective, I am, and if you want I can explain my viewpoint.  Rather than explain my idea of something I have no first hand knowledge of, however in all fairness it is not something too hard to imagine, I’m gonna give you a comprehensive and detailed look at my personal work history.  I have no desire to work in porn whatsoever, however that being said, I would take working in porn over any other job I have ever had.

I’m a young buck (26), but I have been putting work in since I was like 10, going to everyone in my neighborhood, cutting their grass, raking their leaves, shoveling their snow, doing whatever to get paid.  I did that until I was able to work legally when I was 16.  In 1996 when I was 13 the east coast had a huge blizzard, which many of you who were there will remember.  I had off of school an entire week.  All I did was shovel that shit out of people’s driveways all over.  We’re talking over 1-2 feet of snow, I don’t remember, but someone back me up on this, it was a massive amount of snow.  That shit was backbreaking work.

When I was about 12 I took a class to become a soccer referee for 6 year old kids.  Sure refereeing children’s soccer doesn’t sound that bad, until you factor in all the apeshit parents who went bananas on you if they thought you got the call wrong.  Sometimes it was insane, motherfuckers going on the field like what the fuck is wrong with you?  Grown ass men yelling at a 12 year old kid.  I didn’t care; I hit them off with yellow cards and told their ass if they fucked with me again I’ll hit them off with the red.

When I was 16 I got my first real, real job, working at a movie theater and I got paid minimum wage.  You know what it feels like when someone pays that?  It’s them saying, we would pay you less, but it’s illegal.  I would go to school until 2:30 and then work from 3-11 3 days during the week and put in full days on Saturday and Sunday.  It fucking blowed, I worked everywhere, in this cafe they had, at concession, as an usher and at the box office.  Mainly I would just smoke weed behind the dumpster on my 15 minute breaks and then eat all the food.  We also had a couple of great scams.  One was where if people had exact change I would ring it up as a no sale and just pocket that shit.  Then in the box office we would steal the gift certificates and redeem them for cash.  That was a great one I’d do like $100 in a day on those.  I also got to see movies for free, so I saw every movie that came out in 1999, ones that are considered classics now like Office Space and The Big Lebowski.  During the week at night no one would be in the late shows and we would be getting high and drinking in those shits.  To this day whenever I go to a movie theater I have flashbacks of working there and that was ten years ago.  Last thing on that, if you go to a matinee show in the morning, you are eating recycled popcorn from the day before.

This started a streak of me leaving jobs because I found better jobs.  At the end of 99 I quit the movie theater to work at Barnes & Noble.  That fuckin sucked too.  The shittiest job was working the information, here’s something that was pretty typical:

“Can you help me find this book?  It’s like this thick, it was written by this guy who writes a lot of sports and I think the cover is red.”

For some reason they thought we were familiar with every book that was ever printed.  At least at the movie theater I was cool with a lot of people, but some of the other employees at Barnes & Noble were gay as hell.  There was this one guy Jack from Brooklyn, who was always telling bullshit stories.  He was like, “When I was walking home in Brooklyn, I bumped into Keifer Sutherland as he was walking out of a crack house.  He had a car waiting outside.  He said, ‘you didn’t see me.'”

Another time he said he smoked weed with Method Man and Redman after bumping into them, where, Brooklyn of course.  Bullshit for days.  I would just get high on my breaks and eat all the Godiva chocolates.  The ones with that fruit shit are bangin.  One time I was hot boxing in my friend’s car before work and I forgot I had to work the register.  I had to go in the money room in the back and count my till out, which was a small room with no ventilation.  This was the winter time too, and you know how the cold makes the smell of smoke stay on you.  Anyway, I filled the room up with the pungent smell of herb and my friend mouths to me, “YOU FUCKIN REEK OF WEED!”  I have no idea why I was not fired on the spot and why my manager, who didn’t particularly like me, didn’t ever say anything.  It probably was because every job I’ve had I have either been the single best, or among the best employees.

Listen, I wouldn’t run scams at any job anymore because I know now it is fucked up, but I was 16, 17 years old.  I had this great scam with my friend who was the manager of the music department.  All I had to do was print out a copy of all the receipts of everyone who paid in cash.  He would then take those receipts, find those things that were still in the store make like it was being returned.  We used all that cash to buy the finest weed money can buy, and split the weed.  The store had to hire detectives to find out about it.  There was a guy staying in the store all day watching people, but they said they couldn’t tell us why.  Then at lunch he was in our break room eating, and someone was like yeah he’s a cop.  My manager actually got busted for that shit and the cops took him away at the store, but somehow it was determined they used entrapment and he walked away scot free, minus the job of course.

My dumbass brother was the worst.  I fuckin got him a job and he pulled his shit recklessly.  All he would do is stuff all the shit he wanted to steal into garbage bags and take them outside and pretend they were trash.  The alarms would beep, but it was normal because sometimes we open the shit for them, and the alarm things go in the trash so it was always going off when someone took out the trash.  Later he would just go to the dumpster where he put the shit in the back and that was that.  Only thing is one day he decided to return a lot that shit for store credit at another Barnes & Noble, like $300 worth of shit with no receipt.  The guy was like, when we looked this up, all these things come up as stolen in that other store, can you wait right here one sec.  Luckily the only smart thing he did was just leave right there and leave the shit there.

I quit Barnes and Noble because my mom moved to Miami, and the three months I was there I didn’t do shit but party every day.  I came back in Jan of 2001 to go to audio engineering school in Manhattan, when I finished that in Sept of 2001 (great timing right) I went to work as an intern at a well known rock studio in Hoboken, Water Music.  Talk about shitty work, and I wasn’t getting paid.  The manager Rob was a huge dick, my first day he says I need you to clean all the equipment in the studio with Q-Tips.  We’re talking a 96 channel Neve board, all the outboard gear, everything, with fucking Q-Tips.  So when he wasn’t slaving me with bullshit, I was riding my bike all over Hoboken getting them food, whatever the bands or they needed, making coffee, all the usual shit.  All you metal fans might find amusing that Billy Milano from S.O.D. lived at the studio.  When I met him he was mixing something and he asked me how it sounded and I was like it sounds all right.  He said, “do you know who I am” and I said, no.  He said, “You don’t know who I am?” and I was like no I don’t.  So he wanted to be buds after that because I didn’t know who he was, everyone else was on his dick.  That and the fact he was always asking me to get weed for him.  He’s a weird guy actually; he would ramble about himself, and talk about doing weird shit to bitches when he fucked them.  I quit that shit after like two months.

By this time I was living in Jersey City, in some shithole I was renting in Greenville.  It wasn’t a palace, but I had three bedrooms all to myself and a big ass kitchen.  I needed to make money real bad, so I took a job at a temp agency.  My job was to sit in on tapings of the “Judge Hatchett” show.  Can you believe they pay people for that?  Some of those cases were insane, pretty funny.  That was actually the easiest legit money I ever made in my life.  One time I was sitting in the front, which is visible on camera (I have the tape) and I fell asleep and the person next to me taps and off camera the producer is holding up a sign that says “WAKE UP”

I couldn’t afford to stay in Jersey City, that shit was paying me peanuts and this was summer of 2002, the whole 9/11 shit was still very real.  I went to almost every studio in Manhattan and tried to get paying engineering jobs and they were all like not now, and who knows if ever.  My mom had just moved out to Denver so I decided I would go out there, save cash, ride this 9/11 shit out and come back.

When I moved to Denver my brother (who lived in Denver since he went to college there in the late 90’s) got me a job working at a Panera Bread.  It wasn’t so bad, I was the consolidator, which meant I had to group the orders and call their names on the mic.  Sometimes I would bullshit on the mic and everyone would have a laugh.  Another good thing was that were a lot of Mexicans that worked there, so I felt at home.  Another good thing is that they hooked me up with their coke connect, LOL.  I got fired for this job because they didn’t pay me holiday pay for Labor Day because I was a new employee and I went off on the human resources lady on the phone.  Like went off, overboard.  Some shit I would never do now, but hey I was 19, you live and you learn.

After that I got a job working the graveyard shift at a Conoco gas station.  That was a real shitty job, and it was the longest job I ever held, which was like one and a half years.  Man, the freaks that would come in that shit in all hours of the night.  It was also a convenience store and there was all this tedious shit that had to be done at night.  For example I had to count every pack of cigarettes, every night, the shit sucked.  I also had to clean the whole store, the soda shit, the coffee shit, stock everything, clean the bathroom, mop, the whole nine.  One time someone left crack in the bathroom.  Another time this guy said he thought he left his pacemaker in the toilet; don’t ask me how I never figured that out.  Another time I left the back door open and this dude ran in the back and tried to steal a case of beer.  When I confronted him he just pushed me and I wanted to beat his ass but I was like this isn’t even my shit and I’ll get fired anyway.  The worst was when I was smoking weed in the back and I ashed in the garbage and then had to come back in to help people.  The garbage went on fire and the whole store was filled with smoke, even going outside.  The only positive thing was that there were so many munchies I could take when I was high; it was like being a kid in candy store, no pun intended.

I fuckin got fired from that shit too, it was real fucked up.  When I was leaving one morning I slipped on ice on the property and sprained my back and my lumbar.  When they took me to the doctor they wanted me to take a drug test.  I was like fuck that, and they are like you can’t get the treatment or some shit without taking the drug test.   I held out for hours, but I was just like fuck it, I’m gonna come up dirty whenever I take it.  Sure enough that shit came back dirty and they fired me.  I still got my free physical therapy and they had to pay for my cabs, most of the time it was a nice ass Lincoln Towncar, it was sweet.

After that shit I decided I saved up enough money it was time to come back home.  The rent in Denver was so inexpensive it wasn’t even funny.  This was the summer of 2004.  I found a room online in Harlem, 127th St and 5th Ave and it was supposed to be a 2 bedroom with a single female.  Turns out it was a 3 bedroom with her, her husband and these two French guys, I had no choice though, my shit was sitting on a corner in Harlem, and I had no other place to go.

I struggled to find work and it was reaching a precipice.  So I answered this ad to be a bathroom attendant, which is literally a “shitty” job.  Fuckin pumpin soap into people hands and handing them towels.  I went to some cool places though, different parties and events.  I would have people pay me to let them fuck in the bathroom, and if they wanted to do blow they had to hit me off.  I met John Legend before he was real big like that.  Funny story actually.  There was this fashion event that he was playing at, and I knew a guy was singing and playing piano.  However before and after that there was this crazy, crazy DJ playing so many songs I loved, old hip hop shit.  So John starts talking to me and I’m like what do you and he says I did the music.  I was like, oh shit you’re the DJ that shit was off the hook!  Then he says to me tersely, no I’m the singer.  Whoops.

Another time I worked this event where the first part was a speech by John Edwards, because he was running for VP at the time.  Security was like, if Mr. Edwards needs to use the bathroom, we’re going to ask you to leave.  After that event was the Rocksteady Crew’s 20th anniversary party and they had all this killer, killer breakdancing, it was tight.

Only thing about the job was that we didn’t make a wage just the tips, which was illegal and we even actually paid them a “lease” fee from the tips for the space.  It was gangster ass shit all the way, a total shakedown.  Some of the good gigs it didn’t matter, you can make good money from that shit in Manhattan, but I went home a lot of days with like 15 bucks for a whole days work.  I knew it was bullshit, but I didn’t have another job or way to make any money.  Some days you had to show up to the office and be on call, it was complete bullshit.  I could wait like four hours and still not work, and not get paid shit.  The guy who ran it Leroy was a complete gangster, I mean the whole nine, his whole image, persona they way he dressed said gangster.

I got fed up and wrote them a letter saying I knew shit was bullshit and if they didn’t start paying me more I would snitch.  So Leroy shows up at my job like step outside.  First thing he does is grill me, just looking at me with his gangster ass stare.  The dude is like 60 and from Harlem, so you know he don’t play.  His face is mad serious, like he’s about to cut me up right there.  He’s says to me, you aren’t from New York are you?  I said no I grew up in Jersey.  He says, Jersey that makes a lot of sense, see you don’t understand they way things work here.  Let me tell you how it is, all the people that work for me are derelicts and junkies, no one else will employ them, and I am doing them a favor.  I was like, you know most of these people are really immigrants that you are exploiting them that shit is not cool, but that’s your business.  Pay me my shit and do what you want with them.  He’s like, I ain’t paying you shit and matter of fact you can get the fuck out of here right now.  I was like no problem.

After that I filed a complaint with the labor department, but I didn’t know there was already an ongoing probe by then state Attorney General Elliot Spitzer, his whole shit went down, it was the on the front cover of the NY Daily News and the NY Post.  They called it the Bathroom Slaves.

Luckily I found a new job, but unluckily I was getting kicked out of my apartment in Harlem.  Seems they needed to let the phone guy in my room and that shit was trashed.  They were like, you gotta go.  Funny, the guy helped me take my shit up when I moved in but just sat and watched while I carried all my shit downstairs when I moved out.

So my friend was like you remember that dude I used to work with, he has a room in the Bronx if you want to go see it.  I was like yeah sure why not, if my other shit falls through at least I’ll have a back up.  I ended up staying at the backup for four years.

The next job I got was crazy.  It was for a Teleservices company that a gigantic amount of people who live in the NY area have worked for at some point in their lives.  It was for doing polling for the 2004 election.  Another shitty job.  Non stop for 8-12 hours a day we would call people and ask them poll questions.  Other times all we had to do was read a paragraph about how great Kerry was and how much Bush sucked.  Yes if you got the call it was us, we worked mostly for the Democratic National Committee, though there was one time we did Pro Bush calls.  There was a contest to see who could do the most and as a result, a lot of our calls were very poor.  On top of that, the company is the shadiest, most ghetto big company I think in the U.S., no bullshit.  Being at work there was like being in the hood.  We would go on our breaks and smoke weed in the park, or I’d hit the liquor store for a bottle of Bacardi, hit the bodega for a Pepsi, dump half that shit out and drink it at my desk.

The biggest bullshit was when the people from the DNC actually came.  We had to wear a tie and knock the bullshit off.  They choose me among a group of people to listen to calls, they loved my ass.  They were the biggest suckers though, how they thought that was a professional environment is beyond me.  The worst was when we had to call people in Detroit about Proposal E, some local bullshit.  Imagine spending your whole day speaking to people from Detroit about some shit they don’t want to hear?

Funny thing is there is a chance we played a role in losing the election for Kerry.  With a week left, the DNC said we must focus everything on Ohio because if we get Ohio, we think we will win the whole thing.  So we called Ohio non stop for a week, thousands and thousands and thousands of calls.  Only thing is, we were so burned out by then, we were at our worst.  Not to mention the fact that everyone for the most part is ghetto and you know when you are speaking to someone ghetto on the phone and strangers don’t like that shit.  You got other guys like me high or drunk and other people talking fast like the Mirco Machines guy so they can win the contest (you know, if it’s not Micro Machines, it’s not the real thing.)  That shit will make an undecided by like, fuck this is this is what Kerry resorts to, having ghetto ass fucks call me and bullshit, I’ll vote for Bush. In any event, John Kerry lost Ohio, a state that if he had won would have given him the election.

After the election they said we could stay on with them, but it was to do different work.  We went from working in the West Village to working in Long Island City, which is in Queens.  This work was proxy solicitation.  For those that are unfamiliar, when you own a security such as a stock or a mutual fund, there are shareholder meetings held every year where they most vote on certain things they would like to do with the fund, i.e. board members, or changing some sort of function.  In lieu of going to the meeting and voting, every holder receives a proxy and they have one vote for every share they own.  Without a certain number of people voting, they can’t do shit and since most people don’t vote them, we have to call them and take their votes over the phones.  This is big in mergers because they can’t reorganize without shareholder approval.

The LIC location was even more hood than the Village one.  For one it was massive, and there they did the proxy work as well as mad telemarketing shit.  Everyone was fucking.  Anything you needed you could get.  Weed, whatever.  On the weekends a guy would set up bootleg DVD’s in the break room on a blanket, just like in the street.  It was surreal.  LIC is industrial so we could just walk around the block smoking weed.

After doing that for a little bit, they moved to the priority group which is only calling very, very large SH’s.  I would also do campaigns where only I and someone else would work on them, small ones, but important ones such as proxy fights.  After that I moved to inbound and took questions from the shareholders.  There was an opening in Quality Assurance and they gave that to me.

Now my job was just to review about 20-25 reps a day.  My friend says I got drunk with power because I started failing people left and right.  I went from being cool with everyone to like fuck AL, though it wasn’t that deep.  Sometimes my supervisors made calls and I failed their ass too.  What’s worse is that I had to play that shit for them.  I could give a fuck; I was by far the most thorough reviewer.  A lot of them didn’t even want to hear the call if I failed them because I was so thorough in detailing the call.

Other times I had to monitor them live, which was always funny.  I could type on their screen and they would see it and then I would hear them on the phone like what the fuck?

I got a better paying job doing stock transfer in Jersey so I quit that shit.  When I did stock transfer, I had to commute from the Bronx to Port Authority then get on a bus for a half hour.  The irony was not lost on me that I grew up in Jersey only to move to NY to go to Jersey to work.

Stock transfer is actually kind of crazy because the average person doesn’t realize all the shit involved.  It’s hard to explain, but there are official processes for transferring stock as gift, or if someone dies  Is it a trust, joint tenants, a corporation, power of attorney?  We issue out and replace dividend checks, we purchase and buy shares.  We reissue certificates and during tax season send out the 1099’s.  Tax season was the worst, I don’t know how many times I had to say we don’t do cost basis.  There are different things depending if it is a stock, or an ADR (American Depositary Receipt, a tradable US security of a foreign company, foreign companies are not listen on the stock exchange).

One of the worst things was that most people you were talking to just had someone that died.  Like my father is dead I want to transfer the shares to me.  Did it go to probate?  We need letters of testamentary or a waiver of probate, affidavits of domicile.  What’s the registration?  You need a Medallion Signature Guarantee.  It’s hard to convey how confusing certain situations got.  Like this, someone has power of attorney for the shareholder, but the power of attorney is deceased, who has authority to transfer the shares?  There was plenty of shit like that.

That was a cool gig kinda but certainly not fun work.  Then I got my highest paying job after that, making 60 G’s a year, though it was by far the most stressful and more of a pain in the ass job than all of them.  There is no way making porn comes anywhere close to the shit I had to do at this job.

I worked at a company that ran a platform for trading currency online.  The volume in a given day was 50 Billion (yes BILLION) and the average trade size was the equivalent 2 Million.  I worked in trade support, so that means we were half technical half customer service.  I worked the Asian and European shift, which was graveyard in NY.  Now, picture how mad someone gets when someone fucks up their cell phone bill and they scream at customer service.  Now picture the man whose 10million USD/EUR trade is in an unknown state.  Yeah, it fucking blowed.  Another thing is, for the most part everyone was a foreigner so it was hard to understand them.  Shit I hated the most was them screaming at you one day and then trying to buddy up with you the next.  In any event, we worked with every major bank in the world and I was on a first name basis with all their top level employees who ran their Foreign Exchange division.  They actually loved my ass, my emails were legendary.  No one there could come close to writing emails like me.

I had to learn a lot of shit about Foreign Exchange, but the hardest was all the crazy technical shit and going through the log files to determine if trades were really done or not.  Since we had access to every bank, client and Prime Broker account, if I wanted to I could execute trades on anyone’s account and they are done in real time.  Sometimes we had to offset trades that were done late or in error.  In total honesty, I could have brought down the entire Foreign Exchange world by executing 500 Million $ trades from everyone’s account.  There is no undo with that shit; all of those would have had to have been covered.

The grimiest part was this.  If you were a retail customer, you received your prices and liquidity from your retailer, as opposed to big time clients who had direct connections to bank prices and didn’t need leverage.  When we sent the banks prices to the retailers, my company and the retailers pipped (changed) the prices and gave different spreads to different people.  So while say Citibank or Bank of America or JP Morgan was sending say a .14/.10 USD/EUR spread, they would add points on the buy side and take away points on the sell side.  The retailer gets the official bank price, and the customer gets the bullshit price, and the retailer and my company split the difference.  Big-time scam shit no?

I had like no expenses because my Bronx rent was so cheap and I totally went overboard.  Out at the bar, Atlantic City, mad coke, hoes, all that.  Lots of fun, but honestly it was the most miserable time of my life because of how stressed I was and the fact I was working graveyard again.  They got bought out for mad money by a major bank and were gonna expand.  In fact they wanted to send me to Singapore to run their Asian team.  Pretty crazy for a kid who dropped out of high school and was living in the South Bronx huh?

Anyways, they pushed me to the limit and I send a dumbass email to the HR lady with the company that bought us.  The fired my ass, but I collected unemployment.  After that I went back to proxy and stock transfer work, and as of the moment I am collecting unemployment from my stock transfer job I had in NY before I left.    Gotta love the federal and state extensions on unemployment.  I also worked at the Brooklyn Army Terminal for a short while.   At both those jobs I was commuting on four trains from The Bronx to Brooklyn ever day. 

Ok, if you made it this far, you should not stop here.  Why did I go through all of this?  This is to show you my perspective of work from my life’s experience.  None of those were glamorous jobs (not that porn is either) and some were hard, difficult and both.

That’s the point.  It is debatable whether making porn is difficult work, difficult as in a job only a limited group of individuals have skills for.  What it is not is hard work.  A hard job is manual labor like construction.  It is not difficult though; it requires limited skill.  A difficult job that is not hard is a professional video game player.  Clearly you need a lot of skill, but the work is not arduous.  A hard AND difficult job is being a surgeon.  You need to have lots of specialized skills and be able to deal with intense, mind wearing stress and pressure.

In my opinion though, making porn is bullshit work, with all due.  Someone who dedicated their life to making porn really had no real talent in any of their passions, are deviod of passion for anything, or just striahgt up lack ambition.  You can’t be passionate about porn, I’m sorry.  Sex is a biological function, it’s designed to be fun.  It’s like if you paid me to sniff coke and take ecstasy all day.  There are exceptions however they are all the female side.  When I met the beautiful and talented Diamond Jackson I realized, some women really love this shit and it’s what they want to be doing.  Diamond is educated and from playing her trivia game everyday, she’s mad smart too.  Not as smart as me though 😉  She could be doing lots of things.

Let’s take a male porno actor.  This man is making $40,000 a year doing work that once you start, your options are limited afterwards.  With a GED I made 60 grand a year, and I fucked plenty of bitches too.  That is where I come to a huge myth: the male porno actor is an enviable position.

Not every guy wishes he could be a porn star, for example I am one of them.  I have no desire whatsoever to do porn at all.  It’s not how I get down.  I would like to fuck many bitches who make porn definitely, but I’m not about to pursue a career in porn to do it.  Fuck that.  I got way bigger fish to fry than that.

Another thing is, these porn bitches are not exclusive, they are INCLUSIVE, meaning they will fuck anyone who pays them.  There’s no shame in that game, but there is way better pussy than that.  I have nothing against anyone that makes porn male or female, if you are a good person you are a good person, like the lovely Diamond.  But these porn bitches have been ran through by a ton of guys, there is just better pussy than that, it’s not pussy to aspire for more than other pussy.

Take the girl I’m seeing now.  She is 19 and she is a dime, and when I say dime it’s with a capital fuckin D.  In fact just so you guys don’t think I’m bullshitting I am going to send Cindi and Kay some pics and you can ask them.  She is one of the hottest girls I have seen period in person or on TV.  You know what’s even better; no guy in porn will ever be able to fuck her because she doesn’t get down like that.  So even if I ever fuck a porn star, it’ll be great, but it’s an experience many, many others have had.  My girl is some shit that is limited.

As for the Viagra thing, I don’t know how Viagra works; I’ve never had to take it.  I’m fuckin 26 and my dick if anything has a problem being hard too much or when it is not appropriate.  I do know people who have used it and they said it is instant hard on.  In any event, I think if porn is something you want to do and you are Viagra’d up, why would it be hard to get hard, no pun intended.  Another thing is, they have pills to make you not bust soon, shit for premature ejaculation.  Given all of those facts, is it really that hard to keep your dick hard when you are on drugs, the girl is hot, and it is something you want to do to begin with?  Fuck outta here with that.

Lastly, you may think deep inside I really want to do porn.  Fact is if that were true, there are a number of people I can reach out to personally to help me with that.  Like me or not, from my time at LIB (my one year is coming very soon) people know me.  I’ve written A LOT of shit for this site, a lot of shit I can’t recall offhand.  Even if that weren’t true, hey I just saw an offer right here so what do you know, I guess I could if I wanted to.  However I would like to let it be known that, shit if you wanna fuck, just drop me a line LOL.  Though with the way things are going with my lady friend, I might have to rescind that offer.  I’m not a dog or a man ho, I’m a keeper.

 

One Response to “Work”

  1. very nice, but you were right long!

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