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Thursday, September 30, 2004

sad sign of the times 

Drinkers object to Jack Daniel's watering whiskey down

NASHVILLE, Tenn. - If you've noticed that your Jack Daniel's is carrying a little less kick these days, you're probably right.

The famed "sippin' whiskey," which advertises a recipe traced back to the nation's first registered distillery, has lowered the alcohol content of its flagship brand, Old No.7 Black Label.

The whiskey now registers 80 proof, instead of 86 (or 40 percent alcohol versus 43 percent), and some drinkers feel betrayed.

"You can't screw with a legend like that and get away with it," said Frank Kelly Rich, editor of Modern Drunkard magazine. "I'm sure Jack is spinning in his grave."


There's a "Modern Drunkard" magazine?

Why yes'ir, indeed there is.

Well then perhaps all hope is not lost.

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Tuesday, September 28, 2004

you might be a redneck 

if you disagree with this posting. If you are, my dear reader, you must allow me to follow through on a quote from a true Texan and fine American (and thus not a redneck), and "kick your damn ass".

If my directness offends, then go fuck yourself (but please, my dear reader, keep reading first).

As I'm sure you will recall from a previous posting, The Wife and I occasionally chill out on the sofa with a bottle or two of cheap convenience store booze after The Boy is snug in his bed for the night and watch music videos.

Sometimes we watch country music videos because they are exactly, yes you read that right, exactly, like the videos from the glorious 80's era of the Hair Bands. They come complete with gyrating barely clad bimbos and dudes that except for the haircuts and hats look just like freakin' Def Leppard. Hell, most of them sound like freakin' Def Leppard put through some sort of twangy guitar music filter. And Def Leppard (as The Wife will tell you and if you say otherwise she'll kick your damn ass) rocks!

This past weekend we had such an opportunity.

Don't give my your shit. Don't need it, don't want it.

And I'm sure that you all also recall my 9th grade American History teacher's country music theory.

Yes, yes, yes. I know.

Yes, everybody knows that what passes for country music nowadays sucks giant ass.

But really, how many whining pretend-punk teen-angst anthems, "I'm so misunderstood" pseudo rap-metal bullshit, or ultra-mega-crappy giant piles of festering dung can one man be expected to take before he starts frantically pushing buttons on the remote like the protaganist near the end of a Cold War era spy film trying to get the right code to save the world from the Evil Villian's Doomsday Device?

So, cut me some slack, won'cha!?

Anyway, getting back to my point. . .

Had he not rhymed "Bin-Laden" with "forgotten", there is little doubt that Darryl Worley would have surely lost the title to a quite horrific John Michael Montgomery song.

But. . .

No winning streak can last forever.

The current winner in the category of "Worst Bit of Ignorant Pig/Cousin/Sister-Fucking Gung (and Gun)-Ho "Love it or Leave it" Back Asswards Country Song" is. . . (the envelope please)

Montgomery Gentry, with their amazingly bad song and even more ridiculous video, "You Do Your Thing".

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Monday, September 27, 2004

like a party 

"Soon after the regime fell, porno discs were all the rage," said Attallah Zeidan, a co-owner of a second hand bookshop in Baghdad's Old City. "Now it's beheadings."

Hmm. Interesting.

But really, what's the big deal. I mean, c'mon now, my dear reader, is this really newsworthy?

It sounds just like a typical Saturday night at my house.

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Saturday, September 25, 2004

ah, autumn 

It's a beautiful Saturday morning. The first Saturday of Fall has arrived with the courtesy to act like it should.

It is overcast, cool (relatively speaking), with a light breeze and the promise of rain. I love these mornings.

I get up, open up a window or two and put a pot of coffee on.

"I woke up this morning and got myself a beer. " - Jim Morrison

Occassionally dead hippies have good ideas and I gotta do som'tin while the coffee's brewing.

Step into my boxers and out into the morning. (Was I brewing coffee naked? I'll never tell. I just think it's amusing to put that image in your head.)

I wander slowly around the back yard, savoring my Tecate. (And the beer's not so bad either. Bada bing! Bada boom!)

The feeling in the air inevitably takes me back to my earliest days in the city, now a full two decades prior. I fled the sprawling homogenous soul-crushing sameness of suburbia and went off to expand my mind and broaden my horizons at The University.

Turn on the tele, right? Cause it's been over eight hours since I got my cable news fix.

(Another confession, my dear reader. I'm a bit of an information junkie. I love that we now live in a world where if anything happens anywhere at anytime it will instantly be delivered to your home by an endless stream of talking heads with very well groomed hair twenty-four seven gee. I gobble up the media candy like a fat kid in a chocolate shop.)

Yeah. Because for chris'sakes there's another damn hurricane fittin'ta bitchslap the Floridians. Time for the Weather Channel hurricane media orgasm! Yes, oh yes!

I love to watch the inevitable live shot from the poor bastard of a reporter they make go stand on the beach and report on the storm with overstatements of the obvious. And to watch the camera fly around as some other poor bastard has to hold them damn thing up in the wind and the rain. Always guaranteed to be one-hundred percent fun.

Yes! The weather dude just said, "most people drown in water. . ." Oh, really, people can drown in water? Ho ho, that's rich!

Soon, I'll wake The Wife and The Boy. We'll begin another wonderful day as a family. But this moment, right now, is my time.

Ah. . . It's a beautiful day.

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Friday, September 24, 2004

a big issue, really (part 1) 

Okay then.

Well, my dear reader, I fear I must break my vow and broach a subject that is most dear to my heart. I did not want to do this rant today. Today has been a rather pleasant day and I do not wish to blow it at the end.

(Hey now. . . Hey now! Ah. . . fuck it. . . to late. . .)

Because this is really a Big Issue for me.

(that's right, capital fucking letters, bee-otch)

If you think for one brief moment my last summer's involvement in the plight of Ms. Tooran got me all freakin' fired up, then please don't get me started on this.

My anger and fear strike me to the bone. It just plain freaks me.

(Yeah, but um. . . how do you really feel?)

Well, not exactly like a million dollars.

And it's not that I'm upset with the legal system. As I understand it, correctly or not, this decision comes down on the side of the Individual, and not the State. That's generally a good thing.

But I mean really. . .

C'mon, it's the freakin' Florida Supreme Court. The last time they were in the news it was because they received what the Old Gaffer fondly referred to as a "righteous bitch-slap", so really now, tell me who's your daddy?

It's all freakin' doctors and other alleged experts involved.

"Schiavo has been in a persistent vegetative state for 14 years after suffering heart failure from a potassium imbalance. Her husband, Michael Schiavo, has been battling her parents, Bob and Mary Schindler, over whether his wife should be allowed to die. Michael Schiavo has said that his wife had previously told him that she would not want to be kept alive artificially. Doctors who have testified on his behalf have said she has no hope for recovery. She is fed through a tube but breathes on her own. The Schindlers have maintained that their daughter could be helped with therapy." (emphasis mine).

Kept alive artificially? Because she is fed through a tube? It's artificial to keep someone alive by giving them food?

Bah! if that be true then each night we artificially keep The Boy alive.

Hey! Unless your a freakin' sorry cheap-ass bastard I'll wager dollars to donuts that you, my dear reader, occassionally take your significant other out for a meal.

Well then, cut it the fuck out because you are artificially keeping that special someone alive.

And whoa! Remember when your were thirteen and you fell off the skateboard and smashed your face against the curb by the mailbox and you had your jaw wired shut for six weeks so the bones could heal and you couldn't consume anything unless you could suck it up through a straw?

Your damn parents were most likely helping to keep you artificially alive. The bastards.
_______________

(And that concludes today's rant. . . Coming up next on most of these channels. . . a sneak preview of tomorrow's rant.)

And speaking of bastards, please indulge me while I share my thoughts about this:

Doctors who have testified on his behalf have said she has no hope for recovery..

Yeah, whatever. . . fuck doctors.

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your vote is your voice 

. . . screaming my name as convulsions of pleasure cascade down your spine.

Or at least it could be, if you go here and take the pledge.

(The Good Doctor sends a big city shout out to my brotha H-Man for sharing the crazy wack knowledge)

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Thursday, September 23, 2004

or not 

savemary-kate

America's favorite former-jailbait-just-turned-barely-legal menage-a-twin fantasy have threatened to sue some poor schleps over a "Save Mary-Kate" t-shirt.

[Just between me and you, my dear reader, (and let me be clear that I am not advocating breaking any trademark or copyright laws. This is for educational and informative purposes only) if you have the inclination you could download the image and save it so you can print it on at your discretion and put it on your own t-shirt before the maggot sucking corporate attorneys try to scrub it off the 'net.]

Wow! I had heard from a friend who knows this friend who has a cousin in like California who worked for like a week or two in this club in Hollywood as a shot girl but she needed more money cuz she got hooked on smack or something so she became a fluffer, yes that's right one of those girls, so she like totally knows (because she worked in the club, not because she's a fluffer, don't be gross), that Lindsay Lohan is the biggest bitch in the current crop of young starlets.

Maybe not.

Maybe it's a good thing I gave up my idea of marketing a toothpaste with the dubious at best claim that in addition to fluoride, it contains the essence of and so subsequently tastes like the flowers of their burgeoning womenhood.

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yeah, but skynyrd rocks his ass off 

"Ridge called the singer "one of my favorite artists," and said his agency would take "a very, very close look" at the information that resulted in Islam being placed on the list. "

". . .information that resulted in Islam being place on the list"?

Like what? His last name perhaps?

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Sunday, September 19, 2004

acid dreams come true 

I remember a Sunday when I lived in the dorm and there was no class on Monday because it was a holiday.

So basically, there was a lot of time to kill.

My dorm roommate, a high school friend and future roommate turned attorney, myself, and perhaps one or two others, (with this next phrase it shall become clear why I can't quite recall if there were others) scored and then giddily swallowed a few hits of Drag Acid.

Yes, that's correct my dear reader. I trust you will be neither shocked nor surprised to learn that I too indulged in what some referred to as "youthful indiscretion". On at least one occassion I freely and eagerly consumed Timothy Leary's magic elixir, a little Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.

We somehow wound up in an arcade on campus. Gauntlet was the cool new video game at the time. As there is no time on acid, I can not possibly count the hours. But I recall it was the bright of the mid-day sun when we entered the arcade and the dark of autumn night when we left. Each of us eventually pumped over $20.00 in quarters into that damn machine.

I had visions of those blasted little maze monsters running through my head for weeks. Occassionally, during those dark moments between wakefulness and sleep, I still do.

I must confess that I was somewhat shocked, though scarcely surprised, to stumble upon one of those on-line personality quizzes which revealed this:


What Video Game Character Are You? I am a Gauntlet Adventurer.I am a Gauntlet Adventurer.




"I strive to improve my living conditions by hoarding gold, food, and sometimes keys and potions. I love adventure, fighting, and particularly winning - especially when there's a prize at stake. I occasionally get lost inside buildings and can't find the exit. I need food badly."

What Video Game Character Are You?

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Saturday, September 18, 2004

freedom's just another word. . .  

for nothing left to lose

iraqi girl
An Iraqi girl dictates a "thank you" note to the American President for her liberation.

Bismillah!

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Friday, September 17, 2004

oops 

Weapons of mass destruction? I guess not.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

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cheap joke of the day 

Bikinis Raise Eyebrows at Miss America

And that's not the only thing they're raising.

Bada bing, bada boom.

Thank you very much, thank you, good day.

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Thursday, September 16, 2004

mission accomplished? 

"A highly classified National Intelligence Estimate assembled by some of the government's most senior analysts this summer provided a pessimistic assessment about the future security and stability of Iraq."

Caught in a mosh? Or stuck in a quagmire?

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the ongoing perils of the good doctor noyz 


ivyleg
Originally uploaded by dr-noyz.
(file under the ongoing perils of The Good Doctor Noyz)

Two weeks ago this coming Saturday I shared cold beer and hot barbeque with my comrades from out of town at a tailgate party on opening day of The University football season.

Needless to say, if you let several thousand people stand around on asphalt parking lots in the heat of the afternoon drinking huge quantities of beer and do nothing to provide adequate facilities to meet their personal needs, people get inventive and make do with what's available.

In this particular case, a creek that runs on the edge of the parking lot makes a convenient men's room.

I know that the damn creek bank is lined with poison ivy. It's just that, well, after you've had more than a few, your balance maybe ain't quite what it normally is as you try not to slip and slide too much on the urine soaked bank. A few days after the event it began to become apparent what I brushed up against.

Twelve freaking days later and oooh, that's just not pretty.

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next? 

Cardinal Fang recently cited an article on Salon.com by former Clinton advisor Sydney Blumenthal that presents the argument that the Iraq War is already lost.

Yeah, probably, in the long run. But then again I've never been an optimistic fan of American foreign affairs. "To much stick, not enough carrot," as the Old Gaffer used to say.

I wonder how many recruits Al Queda gets for every Iraqi we kill. The U.S invasion and occupation of Iraq is the best thing that could have happened to Al Queda.

So, if you're losing one war (or is it two, anyone think it's odd that no one talks about Afghanistan anymore?), why not start another war to stoke up the fires of patriotic furor and distract people from the one(s) your losing.

Those blasted Iranians are apparently gettin' uppity and toying with nukes. That is apparently more than dubya can "tolerate".

So, what to do about it.

Well, lets look at a map of the region shall we? Occupied Afghanistan on one side. Occupied Iraq on the other. Hmmm. . . how 'bout arranging for our troops to meet in the middle and have a little picnic, in say, downtown Tehran? Iran is, after all, part of the axis of evil.

Wouldn't that be the perfect trifecta for dubya's boys? And be the perfect way to guarantee the Islamic world hates America for even more generations to come. Yeah, that's the way to win the "War on Terr".

And at what cost? Only the price of a few hundred ordinary lives or thousands, but really, who's counting?

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Monday, September 13, 2004

funeral for a friend's mom 

As I have previously reported, last week a friend's mother past away following a lengthy battle against cancer and occassionally her family as she successfully struggled to maintain her beauty, grace and dignity until the very end.

Although I had met her briefly on one or two occassions, I can not honestly say that I knew her. However, if there is truth in the old saying that people can be judged by the company they keep, then she was truly a remarkable lady.

Her memorial service was last night. It set a new standard for memorial services. It was a gathering of 200 plus people, representing a true cross section of our community: young and old, rich and poor, black and white, gay and straight, suburban conservatives and urban liberals, of all faiths, Christian, Jewish, Muslim.

We assembled on a hilltop facing westward, overlooking a lake as the evening sun began its descent into the neon colors of twilight. There were tears, all felt the loss, but mostly there were smiles and laughter.

As the preacher said the last "amen", a lonely trumpet began to sound a mournful dirge. Notes cracked from the clearly visible emotion on the face of the trumpeteer as the mournful song slowly was slowly transformed. Within a moment the trumpeteer was leading the congregation in a version of "When the Saints Come Marching In" that may not have exactly made a New Orleans Jazz Funeral Band envious, but they certainly would have appreciated the effort.

Then, Rod Stewart on the PA. "If you want my body, and you think I'm sexy. . . "

And then, it was off to the bar. Yes, that's right the bar. If funerals and memorial services are truly designed to celebrate the life of the dearly departed, then let's get this party started right.

Open bar, live jazz/swing band, a huge buffet. . . oh, you should have seen the desert table. . .

The guest of honor marked the end of her life the way she had lived it, as an immaculate hostess and a grand entertainer who took great joy in bringing people together to celebrate good food, good drink, and the good company of friends.

So, my dear readers, please join me now. . .

Raise your glass and lift your spirits. . .

. . . to Jan!


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Thursday, September 09, 2004

believe me yet? 

"We are trying to create an atmosphere where people are very responsible with their vehicles," Police Chief Francisco Ortiz said Wednesday at a demonstration of the scanner.
__________

The technology that is now so much a part of crime-fighting and anti-terrorism has gone -- as one police spokesman says -- from Stone Age to Star Wars in less than a decade. This step in the evolution will link more than 2,000 public surveillance cameras in Chicago into a unified system.

We are not dust in the wind, we are frogs in pots.

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not ta keep harpin' 

on this but. . . really now, I've had it up to here with the likes of you people.

Okay, not you people, my dear reader, not you at all. Because by virtue of you're being right here right now you are demonstrating an enlightened if slightly delusional and amused sense of your self and your world.

Just like me.

I am, of course, refering to you people, the huddled masses who continue to spend more than they can afford on their digitally gilded cage.

What the hell is wrong with you people, anyway? Why do you continue to buy dubya's line like a stoned guy in the Taco Bell drive-thru with three dollars in his pocket at three o'clock in the morning?

Please, you people, don't miss understand my meaning, I scarcely give a rat's ass about the Other Guy.

"Same song, differn't key," as the Old Gaffer would say.

But really now, this takes the cake.

On August 1, 1972, Col. Killian grounded Lt. Bush for failure to perform to U.S. Air Force/Texas Air National Guard standards and for failure to take his annual physical as ordered.

". . . failure to take his annual physical as ordered". . . The current Commander in Chief violated a direct order from a commanding officer during a time of war?

Another memo refers to a phone call from the lieutenant in which he and his commander "discussed options of how Bush can get out of coming to drill from now through November." And that due to other commitments "he may not have time."

The current Commander in Chief "may not have time" to serve his Nation when the Nation is at War?

And why, with his erratic attendance record, he was subject to neither discipline nor active duty call-up as provided for in his contract with the Guard.

Hmmm. . . "erratic attendance record"? So I guess dubya never considered serving his Nation a full-time job. How would the grandson of a United States Senator possibly get away with shirking his duty anyway?

frogs in pots

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Wednesday, September 08, 2004

greatness proved wrong? 

Sad, but true.

Decades before The Great One descended into the hell of a commercially successful but artistically vacant career as a regular and frequent star of "The Vapid Family Comedy", he was once (and still is) much beloved by The Good Doctor as a comic genious.

It is my sad duty to inform you that The Great One is mistaken.

I introduce the following into evidence:

Bush Campaign More Thought Out Than Iraq War
WASHINGTON, DC—Military and political strategists agreed Monday that President Bush's re-election campaign has been executed with greater precision than the war in Iraq. "Judging from the initial misrepresentation of intelligence data and the ongoing crisis in Najaf, I assumed the president didn't know his ass from his elbow," said Col. Dale Henderson, a military advisor during the Reagan Administration. "But on the campaign trail, he's proven himself a master of long-term planning and unflinching determination. How else can you explain his strength in the polls given this economy?" Henderson said he regrets having characterized Bush's handling of the war as "incompetent," now that he knows the president's mind was simply otherwise occupied.


That's fucking beautiful man, just fucking beautiful.

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for those at home keeping score 

Well, now they've gone and done it, now haven't they now:

U.S. Military Deaths in Iraq Pass 1,000.

For the past month or so I've heard an occassional minor rumble or two about the U.S. hitting the one thousand dead soldier mark, like it's some sort of major milestone on the blood paved road to victory. Do you think a family gives a damn if their son or daughter was casualty number one, three hundred seventeen, or freaking one thousand?

Dead is dead.

Let's pause a moment from the action on the field to get an update on the score:

September Eleven Dead Americans: 2,996
Iraq War Dead Americans: 1,002

Total Dead Americans: 3,998

Iraqi Civilian War Dead: 11,793


(Afghanistan not included.)

We're still winning.

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Tuesday, September 07, 2004

a somber moment 

Motherless children may now list the name of my friend George amongst their ranks.

Jan Hinkle Brainard

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duh, part two 

Watching Sex on Television Predicts Adolescent Initiation of Sexual Behavior

True, very true. However, in my case, as I'm sure is still true with geeky dorky pimply faced boys everywhere, a lack of popularity with the ladies only leads to an initiation of the activity with yourself.

All kidding aside, I'll bet if I turn on Fox News or CNN tonight I can see some so-called conservative commentator screaming for greater regulation of entertainment media to protect the children from the moral corruption and personal degradation inspired by sex on television.

The sheer hyprocrisy of such a spectacle, of witnessing people who work for mega-media mass market conglomerates advocating for greater regulation of their company's business that really gets the bread buttered would really be quite a hoot.

(Kinda like if Fox News threatened to sue The Simpsons, which really happened.)

In that case, I'll protect my child from the idiocy of some talking head by changing the channel, or even more radically, I might even turn the damn television off. Now I'm talking really crazy, but maybe I'll even read to the kid.

Before you go screaming for more laws and greater government intrusion into our lives, I suggest you try the same thing.

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disturbing dream 

Last night I dreamed I had a date with pop "punk" princess spinner hottie Avril Lavigne.

I didn't dream that we actually went out, just that we had a date scheduled for Friday night.

"Did you think that I was gonna give it up to you, this time?"

Yeah babe, I'm sure you would have if not for the blasted alarm clock.

I find this disturbing.

As I'm not a suburban 'tween girl, I am not a member of her fan base. Her slickly packaged and McMarketed image and music is at best innocuous and worst an insult to the memory of true punk goddess Wendy O. Williams. It's as rocking as a Pat Boone cover of a Little Richard song with all the soul of a Michael Bolton record.

Highly disturbing.

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Wednesday, September 01, 2004

frances? 

"Nearly a half-million people were ordered to evacuate as Hurricane Frances swirled toward Florida on Wednesday. . . "

Florida is about to get its ass kicked by Frances? What the hell kinda lame-ass name is that for a Righteous storm.

Yes, that's right, it's freaking Righteous, in bold face with a capital fucking "R".

Bonnie? Charley? Now, Frances?

Florida threatened by three nasty storms in the past six or so weeks. Each one stronger than the one before.

Now Frances has Florida in its sights and dead to rights.

As the state of Florida and all Floridians, good and bad, stare to the southeast horizon into the barrel of a loaded gun, do you think they take the time to wonder what I wonder?

Prob'ly not.

So I will share my thoughts with them, as well as you, my dear reader.

The big "end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine)" election is two months away. Florida was the state the really jacked us up last time around.

Do you believe in a righteous and just diety who punishes sinners, a la Old Testament fashion, in giant cataclysmic chunks? I mean really, who lives in South Florida anyway? The Gays and The Jews. How could a just yet wrathful diety not hold them like a spider above a flame? The unrepentant sinners can not vote if they are already burning in Hell.

Or. . .

Do you believe it possible that these storms represent some sort of divine providence and an attempt to quite literally wipe the state clean so we can possibly not get bogged down in all that "chad" nonsense this time?

Or. . .

Like me, do you recall and revere the cry of "Hail Eris"?

Yes?

Then I'm sure we will all be in complete agreement and absolute adoration of Her playful, "cat with its prey" way of really messin' up the Whole Damn System while ensuring that the coming election will be an even bigger circus than four years ago.

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