Quote notes (#43)

As a discussion trigger, dedicated to VXXC  (while awaiting something more substantially off-planet):

… we can see that the kind of libertarianism inherent in Planetary Resources is a far cry from the libertarianism of those who wish to see Tennessee opt out of Obamacare. That’s the difference between the Heinleinians and the Calhounians. The Heinleinians are reading technical papers and spreadsheets, not the Constitution or the Declaration of Independence.

Yet make no mistake—the Planetary Resourcers are fully revolutionary. None of them are interested in waiting around to see what the federal government is willing to do in space—although, in their pragmatism, they are willing to work with NASA. Still, it has surely has crossed the mind of these investors that there’s no EPA in space; indeed, space can be seen as one universe-sized enterprise zone.

The whole article is remarkably original and thought-provoking. (Outside in is sure to return to it when the trends and prospects of libertarianism stray back into the cross-hairs.)

November 17, 2013admin 14 Comments »
FILED UNDER :Commerce , Cosmos

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14 Responses to this entry

  • Alan Liddell Says:

    FTFA:
    “Second, there’s the reality that some systems are naturally, even necessarily, big. Industries need big markets to enjoy economies of scale, and they need rationalized systems of money and credit and contract-enforcement. Commerce also requires robust infrastructure. And there’s the Internet. Can Idaho have its own Internet? Can any state really leave the World Wide Web?”

    That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever read. His other three criticisms of Calhounianism are valid, and the rest of the article is intriguing, not in the least because it’s on Breitbart.

    [Reply]

    peppermint Reply:

    If you gave Intel a million dollars, could you have a chip significantly faster than what they sell millions of for 200$ each?

    No, you could not.

    The fabs alone, which only produce high-margin chips for a few years before being replaced by the next generation of fabs, cost billions of dollars each.

    Taping a chip out to print it, even on yesterday’s fabs, costs millions.

    The semiconductor industry can only exist in this form because they can sell enough stuff. If they couldn’t, they wouldn’t be able to develop ultraviolet lithography.

    In conclusion, just because you don’t know about industries that can only exist because of their scale, only means that you are personally ignorant.

    [Reply]

    Alan Liddell Reply:

    My comment was largely directed at “And there’s the Internet. Can Idaho have its own Internet? Can any state really leave the World Wide Web?”, which is self-evidently stupid, and irrelevant moreover to the rest of the point. Why should Idaho need its own Internet? Is Idaho suddenly to become the North Korea of the West? Why does secession from the United States imply “leaving the World Wide Web,” whatever that even means?

    But fine, we’ll discuss the rest of it:
    “Second, there’s the reality that some systems are naturally, even necessarily, big.”
    Uncontroversial, AFAIK. I don’t see why it requires something like the federal government, which is the author’s objection.

    “Industries need big markets to enjoy economies of scale, and they need rationalized systems of money and credit and contract-enforcement.”
    Just how different does the author think the markets and contract laws would really be in the several states? Do currency exchanges really cripple international commerce?

    “Commerce also requires robust infrastructure.”
    This is a fact. Again, I don’t see why it requires something like the federal government. The recent discussion on plutocracy is extremely suggestive of the kind of infrastructure it’s possible to establish if you’re a monomaniacal robber baron.

    [Reply]

    Posted on November 17th, 2013 at 4:03 pm Reply | Quote
  • Michael Says:

    Locksley Hall
    By Alfred, Lord Tennyson
    Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet ‘t is early morn:
    Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn.

    ‘T is the place, and all around it, as of old, the curlews call,
    Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley Hall;

    Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy tracts,
    And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts.

    Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest,
    Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West.

    Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro’ the mellow shade,
    Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.

    Here about the beach I wander’d, nourishing a youth sublime
    With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time;

    When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed;
    When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed:

    When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see;
    Saw the Vision of the world and all the wonder that would be.—

    In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin’s breast;
    In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;

    In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish’d dove;
    In the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

    Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should be for one so young,
    And her eyes on all my motions with a mute observance hung.

    And I said, “My cousin Amy, speak, and speak the truth to me,
    Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being sets to thee.”

    On her pallid cheek and forehead came a colour and a light,
    As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the northern night.

    And she turn’d—her bosom shaken with a sudden storm of sighs—
    All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel eyes—

    Saying, “I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do me wrong”;
    Saying, “Dost thou love me, cousin?” weeping, “I have loved thee long.”

    Love took up the glass of Time, and turn’d it in his glowing hands;
    Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.

    Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might;
    Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass’d in music out of sight.

    Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring,
    And her whisper throng’d my pulses with the fulness of the Spring.

    Many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships,
    And our spirits rush’d together at the touching of the lips.

    O my cousin, shallow-hearted! O my Amy, mine no more!
    O the dreary, dreary moorland! O the barren, barren shore!

    Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs have sung,
    Puppet to a father’s threat, and servile to a shrewish tongue!

    Is it well to wish thee happy?—having known me—to decline
    On a range of lower feelings and a narrower heart than mine!

    Yet it shall be; thou shalt lower to his level day by day,
    What is fine within thee growing coarse to sympathize with clay.

    As the husband is, the wife is: thou art mated with a clown,
    And the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down.

    He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force,
    Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.

    What is this? his eyes are heavy; think not they are glazed with wine.
    Go to him, it is thy duty, kiss him, take his hand in thine.

    It may be my lord is weary, that his brain is overwrought:
    Soothe him with thy finer fancies, touch him with thy lighter thought.

    He will answer to the purpose, easy things to understand—
    Better thou wert dead before me, tho’ I slew thee with my hand!

    Better thou and I were lying, hidden from the heart’s disgrace,
    Roll’d in one another’s arms, and silent in a last embrace.

    Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth!
    Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth!

    Cursed be the sickly forms that err from honest Nature’s rule!
    Cursed be the gold that gilds the straiten’d forehead of the fool!

    Well—’t is well that I should bluster!—Hadst thou less unworthy proved—
    Would to God—for I had loved thee more than ever wife was loved.

    Am I mad, that I should cherish that which bears but bitter fruit?
    I will pluck it from my bosom, tho’ my heart be at the root.

    Never, tho’ my mortal summers to such length of years should come
    As the many-winter’d crow that leads the clanging rookery home.

    Where is comfort? in division of the records of the mind?
    Can I part her from herself, and love her, as I knew her, kind?

    I remember one that perish’d; sweetly did she speak and move;
    Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was to love.

    Can I think of her as dead, and love her for the love she bore?
    No—she never loved me truly; love is love for evermore.

    Comfort? comfort scorn’d of devils! this is truth the poet sings,
    That a sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.

    Drug thy memories, lest thou learn it, lest thy heart be put to proof,
    In the dead unhappy night, and when the rain is on the roof.

    Like a dog, he hunts in dreams, and thou art staring at the wall,
    Where the dying night-lamp flickers, and the shadows rise and fall.

    Then a hand shall pass before thee, pointing to his drunken sleep,
    To thy widow’d marriage-pillows, to the tears that thou wilt weep.

    Thou shalt hear the “Never, never,” whisper’d by the phantom years,
    And a song from out the distance in the ringing of thine ears;

    And an eye shall vex thee, looking ancient kindness on thy pain.
    Turn thee, turn thee on thy pillow; get thee to thy rest again.

    Nay, but Nature brings thee solace; for a tender voice will cry.
    ‘T is a purer life than thine, a lip to drain thy trouble dry.

    Baby lips will laugh me down; my latest rival brings thee rest.
    Baby fingers, waxen touches, press me from the mother’s breast.

    O, the child too clothes the father with a dearness not his due.
    Half is thine and half is his: it will be worthy of the two.

    O, I see thee old and formal, fitted to thy petty part,
    With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter’s heart.

    “They were dangerous guides the feelings—she herself was not exempt—
    Truly, she herself had suffer’d”—Perish in thy self-contempt!

    Overlive it—lower yet—be happy! wherefore should I care?
    I myself must mix with action, lest I wither by despair.

    What is that which I should turn to, lighting upon days like these?
    Every door is barr’d with gold, and opens but to golden keys.

    Every gate is throng’d with suitors, all the markets overflow.
    I have but an angry fancy; what is that which I should do?

    I had been content to perish, falling on the foeman’s ground,
    When the ranks are roll’d in vapour, and the winds are laid with sound.

    But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honour feels,
    And the nations do but murmur, snarling at each other’s heels.

    Can I but relive in sadness? I will turn that earlier page.
    Hide me from my deep emotion, O thou wondrous Mother-Age!

    Make me feel the wild pulsation that I felt before the strife,
    When I heard my days before me, and the tumult of my life;

    Yearning for the large excitement that the coming years would yield,
    Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his father’s field,

    And at night along the dusky highway near and nearer drawn,
    Sees in heaven the light of London flaring like a dreary dawn;

    And his spirit leaps within him to be gone before him then,
    Underneath the light he looks at, in among the throngs of men:

    Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new:
    That which they have done but earnest of the things that they shall do:

    For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see,
    Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be;

    Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails,
    Pilots of the purple twilight dropping down with costly bales;

    Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain’d a ghastly dew
    From the nations’ airy navies grappling in the central blue;

    Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm,
    With the standards of the peoples plunging thro’ the thunder-storm;

    Till the war-drum throbb’d no longer, and the battle-flags were furl’d
    In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world.

    There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe,
    And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law.

    So I triumph’d ere my passion sweeping thro’ me left me dry,
    Left me with the palsied heart, and left me with the jaundiced eye;

    Eye, to which all order festers, all things here are out of joint:
    Science moves, but slowly, slowly, creeping on from point to point:

    Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion, creeping nigher,
    Glares at one that nods and winks behind a slowly-dying fire.

    Yet I doubt not thro’ the ages one increasing purpose runs,
    And the thoughts of men are widen’d with the process of the suns.

    What is that to him that reaps not harvest of his youthful joys,
    Tho’ the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy’s?

    Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore,
    And the individual withers, and the world is more and more.

    Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and he bears a laden breast,
    Full of sad experience, moving toward the stillness of his rest.

    Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the bugle-horn,
    They to whom my foolish passion were a target for their scorn:

    Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a moulder’d string?
    I am shamed thro’ all my nature to have loved so slight a thing.

    Weakness to be wroth with weakness! woman’s pleasure, woman’s pain—
    Nature made them blinder motions bounded in a shallower brain:

    Woman is the lesser man, and all thy passions, match’d with mine,
    Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine—

    Here at least, where nature sickens, nothing. Ah, for some retreat
    Deep in yonder shining Orient, where my life began to beat;

    Where in wild Mahratta-battle fell my father evil-starr’d,—
    I was left a trampled orphan, and a selfish uncle’s ward.

    Or to burst all links of habit—there to wander far away,
    On from island unto island at the gateways of the day.

    Larger constellations burning, mellow moons and happy skies,
    Breadths of tropic shade and palms in cluster, knots of Paradise.

    Never comes the trader, never floats an European flag,
    Slides the bird o’er lustrous woodland, swings the trailer from the crag;

    Droops the heavy-blossom’d bower, hangs the heavy-fruited tree—
    Summer isles of Eden lying in dark-purple spheres of sea.

    There methinks would be enjoyment more than in this march of mind,
    In the steamship, in the railway, in the thoughts that shake mankind.

    There the passions cramp’d no longer shall have scope and breathing space;
    I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.

    Iron-jointed, supple-sinew’d, they shall dive, and they shall run,
    Catch the wild goat by the hair, and hurl their lances in the sun;

    Whistle back the parrot’s call, and leap the rainbows of the brooks,
    Not with blinded eyesight poring over miserable books—

    Fool, again the dream, the fancy! but I know my words are wild,
    But I count the gray barbarian lower than the Christian child.

    I, to herd with narrow foreheads, vacant of our glorious gains,
    Like a beast with lower pleasures, like a beast with lower pains!

    Mated with a squalid savage—what to me were sun or clime?
    I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time—

    I that rather held it better men should perish one by one,
    Than that earth should stand at gaze like Joshua’s moon in Ajalon!

    Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range,
    Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.

    Thro’ the shadow of the globe we sweep into the younger day;
    Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.

    Mother-Age (for mine I knew not) help me as when life begun:
    Rift the hills, and roll the waters, flash the lightnings, weigh the Sun.

    O, I see the crescent promise of my spirit hath not set.
    Ancient founts of inspiration well thro’ all my fancy yet.

    Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Locksley Hall!
    Now for me the woods may wither, now for me the roof-tree fall.

    Comes a vapour from the margin, blackening over heath and holt,
    Cramming all the blast before it, in its breast a thunderbolt.

    Let it fall on Locksley Hall, with rain or hail, or fire or snow;
    For the mighty wind arises, roaring seaward, and I go.

    [Reply]

    Posted on November 17th, 2013 at 6:08 pm Reply | Quote
  • VXXC Says:

    I’m pretty off-world at heart.

    Because I get Calhoun. I grew up around them, quite North BTW…

    America needs UP. Good Lord look at the last 100 years… we must have a frontier.

    That one’s limitless.

    The asteroid mining is a winner because it’s for space exploration, the rocks are mined for spaceflight not earthbound ROI. The tyranny of gravity and earthbound denied.

    The Heinleinens mentioned are following POWER. That’s all. Considering Starship Troopers was written in 1958 I would say they aren’t quite cut in his mold. The monks laboring over code is correct. But that ain’t Heinlein.

    It is a positive that Breitbart is looking so widely.

    [Reply]

    Posted on November 17th, 2013 at 6:31 pm Reply | Quote
  • Michael Says:

    This explains something I didnt understand about reaction.I didn’t realize moldbugs former liberalism want an anomalie, I realize now a lot of you were once liberals. Yeah I know you weren’t liberals you who independents Sure I believe you.
    So this animosity towards the GOP is a different form than those of us who are simply disgusted with their obsequious Quisling appeasing stupidity. I knew it wasn’t computing right.
    The key to this may be under our noses.
    In a sense I was too, a child of the 60s we almost all responded to the zeitgeist, in the end the plague touched us all.Its been re branded but back then and in the early to mid seventies the one word you would have associated with what we thought we were participating in was freedom. And there was also a lot of getting back to cultural roots, I always found rock and roll reactionary. It didnt take long to see the end game was not going to be free. The HBD disconnect was apparent in everything from open relationships to the turn civil rights was taking. Things werent so left right yet the warmonger was a democrat,everyone read stranger in a strange land and all the dystopian and sci fi novels and of course Atlas Shrugged. Maybe it was my jesuit schooling but liberalism seemed logical to me from at least 80.I never looked back.I never cut my hair and growing up in NYC i was the only conservative libertarian actually reactionary would be the most apt -that I knew.
    But I wasnt quite a average republican I was more of an anti democrat I remember having Ollie in 88 T- shirts Printed. just to annoy my friends. Political and Religious argument was what we did in my house besides drinking and fighting. So while my dad was also a republican I had to argue out a separate space, I saw it as he was a traditionalist and I was a pragmatist, I wanted to solve the problems of the day rationally I didnt have his attachment to the Church, For some ungodly reason he decided to raise us as the only white kids in the ghettos of the lower east side I came to know minorities as few whites ever do. women were never a mystery to me yes someone wrote recently an alpha can literally grab a girls ass in public without penalty ill do you one better I recently quipped loudly at a dinner table full of left wing bo bos to a very hot black woman I know ” lets play Sally and Thomas” To uproarious laughter from her and the other women it took the men several beats before they got their chins up off the table.I digress
    My point is im neither a Heinleinian or Calhounian im both but until quite recently their were not such a thing as Heinleinians people understood all those books in a liberal sense they have been trained not to see the dichotomy between freedom and equality, I think it always takes Ayn rand to do that and once you cross that line you are a fascist yada yada.
    so heres my question Ive found Liberals impervious to reason no matter how intelligent. Sure I got they said they were afraid the republicans would institute theocracy but it seemed absurd, Coming from a strict Catholic upbringing I never found religion too tough to handle and I found a lot to admire. in short I wasnt afraid of religion taking over, protestants were off course fundamentally in error and self destructing with every new schism, and Catholics were so enamored of rectifying theology with reason it was easy to tie them up in knots while you made your getaway besides religion was losing the culture war.
    Sorry I do digress What I think we all want to know is how did you do it how did you go from liberalism to race realism? I suppose youre going to say you went via libertarianism but most liberals I have met think of libertarianism as code for racism or at least elitism. Liberals dont think rationally about any of these topics you are all so candid about now.Whats the sequence some latent attachment to freedom causes a short circuit you pick up a copy of the man who mistook his wife for a hat were you all secret racists too afraid to admit it
    And now that you are reactionaries deconstruct the hatred of conservatives. Its always seemed to me to be stereotypical, Like this rabid hatred of dare I even mention her Sarah Palin, its not that I dont get you see her as a rube but cant you also see shes salt of the earth All over flyover country people like her and her husband well I wont bother but im more cosmopolitan than any of you will ever be I went to school on the upper east side of new york and hung out in the ghettos of the lower east side,But I spent twenty years living in the mountain west these are good people and they are not stupid they just think differently and for my money they are saner happier.

    [Reply]

    admin Reply:

    Anyone who thinks Sarah Palin was the problem on the McCain / Palin ticket deserves a public flogging.

    [Reply]

    Diogenes Reply:

    My journey towards neoreactionary interests on the net roughly parallels Moldbug’s, from what I’ve read.

    We were raised in institutions and in a society in which liberalism has been the only (acknowledged) game in town. Liberalism isn’t only not deep, it’s not even shallow. There is nothing new to be learned about it other than from the perspective of the far right.

    Michael, you have some really interesting points, but you need to try for some concision. Your comments and VXXC’s are unclear for opposite reasons.

    [Reply]

    Grotto Reply:

    RE: hatred of conservatives:

    Many of us (including myself), are simply former conservatives who have gone through the five stages of grief, and no longer see conservatism as effective, or even coherent. If you understand neoconservatism, I shouldn’t need to rehash how throughly corrupted modern conservatism is by liberalism.

    As to Sarah Palin, and the Tea Party movement in general, I see them as proto-reactionary. I am strongly sympathetic to their cultural loyalties, and have a strong affinity to their cultural affectations. I would like nothing better than to be surrounded by kind-hearted surburban evangelical Christians in pleasant Midwestern towns. I certainly harbor no contempt or hostility towards them.

    However, they simply do not recognize the threat against them, and their flag-waving patriotism, while admirably loyal and honorable, merely invites the knife that seeks to kill them.

    [Reply]

    Posted on November 17th, 2013 at 11:58 pm Reply | Quote
  • VXXC Says:

    @Michael

    Michael I’m from Salt of The Earth people [mountain foothills , Rust Belt].

    While you didn’t mean it this way, when I hear the “Salt of the Earth” I distinctly hear a snub.

    From Frauds BTW. The only industry they’ve built is Industrious Fraud – Finance – and it’s already eaten America and the world.

    Yes they hate conservatives because they’ve been taught to look down on them. The snobbery of reaction remains, along with the addiction to intellect. We have the Intellectual ruling class and they are utterly mad. Perhaps politics isn’t about Intellect. We could refer to Plunkitt or perhaps Stalin.

    Sarah Palin isn’t just looked down upon personally, she’s a symbol of that which is feared and loathed. Because the Salt was wronged and betrayed on every point of the last 50 years. The guilty know this better than the victims, who only have awakened the last five years. The guilty, neurotic behavior of our elites towards the Piedmont and points West is right out of The TellTale Heart.

    Also Sarah Palin personally is a threat, and took on and defeated corruption in Alaska. Hence the pychosis. “Big Breasted Warrior Mother” and the rest.

    [Reply]

    Michael Reply:

    my uncles are all steam fitters in the midwest though my grandad went to school at night and became an engineer he had a rain man math ability and photographic memory i keep hoping will turn up again.My dad went to the navy college then the seminary then got cold feet before ordination and a went to Georgetown for foreign service after a brief stint in Wash he moved to NYC and suddenly decided to make his hobby a career he became an actor a relatively successful one, I sort of re traced his steps back to the trades. So i really feel no affinity for any class but rather like being able to move about as I said they decided to be bohemian i suppose anfdraise us in the ghetto eventually i went to school with kids who lived on fifth and park avenue so ive been the rich kid of a movie star in the ghetto the poor kid of that actor on the upper east side and the kid from a decidedly blue collar irish catholic pig in the parlor family. to make it even more complicated he married a girl on holiday who tried to raise us all as English gentleman Ive never heard that phrase used derisively or thought of it that way, its not a phrase i use often but it came to me as i was imagining not so much the guys in nyc construction as blue collar guys ive know out west and various countrified places ive been i noticed they are not usually married to their jobs they are more married to the earth they hunt fish ride and things their jobs are often not long lasting in rural economies they made drive a rigg couple years then pull green chain then frame houses but one things for sure they dont work elk season which is fine with the boss because he doesnt either some of these guys id estimate their IQs at 140 but they never finished high school dont read a thing but they can rip apart a car rebuild the engine and put it back together before sundown, I saw one guy cut up a $80k D8 cat and weld it back together after hauling it up a mountain on a high line then take it out the same way after the logging show didnt even hesitate soon as the feds told him he couldn’t walk it across the creek just walked over to his rig pulled out the torch and started cutting it up.

    [Reply]

    Posted on November 18th, 2013 at 11:19 am Reply | Quote
  • Grotto Says:

    It’s a good analysis, even more striking because it’s posted (with implicit editorial approval) at Breitbart, another one of these conservative web-zines that is right at the edge of mainstream respectibility.

    It’s a different angle on the Californian techno-utopian libertarianism that has reached new levels of boldness and influence recently, and it highlights an important difference between the Tea Party “Calhounians”, and the free-love, have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too “Heinleinians”.

    Unfortunately, this is about as far as the analysis can go without HBD, and without HBD, it is incomplete and inadequate. The Calhounians are at least implicitly HBD-aware, given their anti-immigraition stances, while the Heinleinians live in their high-IQ bubble where immigrant disfunction is non-existent.

    It will be interesting to see what happens when their Silicon Valley paradise is finally swamped in a LA-riots style orgy of underclass violence. My guess is they will flee to Singapore, or space.

    [Reply]

    admin Reply:

    If they flee to space, it’s game on (however annoying they are).

    [Reply]

    Grotto Reply:

    The ultimate exit. Western civilization will be preserved on some Martian colony, with Elon Musk clones and organic frozen yogurt smoothie bars. A dark enlightenment indeed.

    [Reply]

    Posted on November 18th, 2013 at 9:23 pm Reply | Quote

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