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"willoughby" poems
Welcome to the con! The con starts with the author, Dr. Seuss. He's no doctor.  And that's a fact (and no it's not the only truthful thing in this diatribe of mine).  He used the doctor moniker to sell more books!        That guy in the book pestering the other guy to try "Green Eggs and Ham"? Turns out to be the ham and egg salesman, Sam I Am.   It's a motivational selling "won't take no for an answer" how to sell book disguised as children's literature.     And Sam I Am is psychotically relentless in his pursuit of a sale.  He needs a restraining order slapped on his ***                    "Would you eat them in a box? Would                     you eat them with a fox. Would you eat                     them with a goat.  Would you eat them on a                      boat".  Would you eat green eggs and ham,                     would you eat them Sam I Am?                                                                         Dr. Seuss And on and on. Sam I Am goes stalking him from page to page.        I had a friend of mine, Mustard Joe, ex war veteran with more than twenty kills (you don't even want to know the things he's seen) take a look into this green eggs and ham food source that Sam I Am is pushing so hard.  Here are some of the ingredients he may or may not have found.                                 Ham   --        30 grams of sugar (questionable )                          --       15 grams of caffeine (untested)                                Green eggs   --          Trace amounts of nicotine ( not verified)                         --          Handfuls of ******* (rumored) As you can see, It's not an exact science. People. When eggs turn green, that's mother nature trying to warn you that your food has gone bad.    But in the end, Sam I Am gets the fool to finally try the green eggs and ham and he absolutely loves it.  Maybe the books lesson   is about to not be afraid about things you don't understand or never tried. But I still believe there is insidious deception and evil in the book. I have to think that way.  Because after all -- I'm Willoughby !!
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Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
The Truth about the Book "Green Eggs and Ham".
Welcome to the con! The con starts with the author, Dr. Seuss. He's no doctor.  And that's a fact (and no it's not the only truthful thing in this diatribe of mine).  He used the doctor moniker to sell more books!        That guy in the book pestering the other guy to try "Green Eggs and Ham"? Turns out to be the ham and egg salesman, Sam I Am.   It's a motivational selling "won't take no for an answer" how to sell book disguised as children's literature.     And Sam I Am is psychotically relentless in his pursuit of a sale.  He needs a restraining order slapped on his ***                    "Would you eat them in a box? Would                     you eat them with a fox. Would you eat                     them with a goat.  Would you eat them on a                      boat".  Would you eat green eggs and ham,                     would you eat them Sam I Am?                                                                         Dr. Seuss And on and on. Sam I Am goes stalking him from page to page.        I had a friend of mine, Mustard Joe, ex war veteran with more than twenty kills (you don't even want to know the things he's seen) take a look into this green eggs and ham food source that Sam I Am is pushing so hard.  Here are some of the ingredients he may or may not have found.                                 Ham   --        30 grams of sugar (questionable )                          --       15 grams of caffeine (untested)                                Green eggs   --          Trace amounts of nicotine ( not verified)                         --          Handfuls of ******* (rumored) As you can see, It's not an exact science. People. When eggs turn green, that's mother nature trying to warn you that your food has gone bad.    But in the end, Sam I Am gets the fool to finally try the green eggs and ham and he absolutely loves it.  Maybe the books lesson   is about to not be afraid about things you don't understand or never tried. But I still believe there is insidious deception and evil in the book. I have to think that way.  Because after all -- I'm Willoughby !!
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In my novel and supposedly written by English and from Yorkshire, William Willoughby in 1811 whilst fighting Napoleon's troops in Spain... and boosting morale using music he loves... this time Flamenco. FLAMENCO Passion of heart and soul… and nimble fingers, Music from wood with curves of Woman lingers… Cinders dance with hot flames as a heart again sings: “Anew Gypsies found metal strings...!” For Men of burning eyes, long hair and hard of nail, Music is wine as dark clouds away do sail… Whilst intoxicating songs of Life, Death, Love and War… Are every time told as never before… And a strong hand of Man does suddenly slap, The delightful form held gently over his lap, As rhythms of memories and secrets full of pain, In ancient faraway lands… of hardly any rain, Anew become forbidden songs never forgotten… Now an eternal legacy, And timeless passion … Maybe… In the shadow… of an ancient olive tree? Do listen with closed eyes… And magic you will see… Capt. W. Willoughby
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
IN THE WILLOUGHBY COLLECTION
Willoughby is the name. And if I can't express my unique and unconventional way of writing here on Hello Poetry as a shock poet,  I'll get angry and leave.  And believe me, you don't want me to get angry (I've been known to get so angry I wet myself).  Following is an example of my style. (WARNING:  If your eyes start to burn, turn away for a few seconds.  You'll be fine). Reuters news service.  This just in... PROJECTILE ***** MAN ARRESTED Dateline:  New York City ---    Charlie Jenkins, the projectile vomiter of New York is behind bars after 24 incidents of vomiting on people who had made him angry. From rude waitresses to aggressive beggars to mean hotdog venders, he didn't discriminate.    He apparently could throw up at will and spew it Like a weapon on his unsuspecting victims.  When confronted he would claim that he was just sick with the flu and had no control over it and you can't get mad at someone who is sick can you?    The judge had to search the laws to call it an assault at the courtroom yesterday and then was promptly vomited on by the man with the nickname known as Up-Chuck Charlie.    Charlie was quoted as saying, " It's like a super power and there are a lot of jerks who deserve my kind of vengeance and if I punched them I'd go to jail, this way I leave them humiliated and soiled in ***** and get to walk away".  Sorry Charlie, not this time.     Susan Clark from channel 2 news asked but why do such a disgusting thing, why? Charlie replied,"Why do I do it?  I do it for the same reason that a dog licks his own balls...because I can.
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Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 7:25 PM UTC
I'm the Worlds First SHOCK Poet
Willoughby is the name. And if I can't express my unique and unconventional way of writing here on Hello Poetry as a shock poet,  I'll get angry and leave.  And believe me, you don't want me to get angry (I've been known to get so angry I wet myself).  Following is an example of my style. (WARNING:  If your eyes start to burn, turn away for a few seconds.  You'll be fine). Reuters news service.  This just in... PROJECTILE ***** MAN ARRESTED Dateline:  New York City ---    Charlie Jenkins, the projectile vomiter of New York is behind bars after 24 incidents of vomiting on people who had made him angry. From rude waitresses to aggressive beggars to mean hotdog venders, he didn't discriminate.    He apparently could throw up at will and spew it Like a weapon on his unsuspecting victims.  When confronted he would claim that he was just sick with the flu and had no control over it and you can't get mad at someone who is sick can you?    The judge had to search the laws to call it an assault at the courtroom yesterday and then was promptly vomited on by the man with the nickname known as Up-Chuck Charlie.    Charlie was quoted as saying, " It's like a super power and there are a lot of jerks who deserve my kind of vengeance and if I punched them I'd go to jail, this way I leave them humiliated and soiled in ***** and get to walk away".  Sorry Charlie, not this time.     Susan Clark from channel 2 news asked but why do such a disgusting thing, why? Charlie replied,"Why do I do it?  I do it for the same reason that a dog licks his own balls...because I can.
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Sorry sir, there's a 15 minute wait for a table.  "I'm Willoughby **** it, I wait for no one"!     Sorry mister ,we're all out of that item.  " I'm Willoughby, I write poetry on All Poetry".    Sorry, we're closed. " I'm Willoughby, I'm insulted.  I've killed for less". That numbers been disconnected.  " Don't you know who I am? I'm Willoughby.  Willoughby!!  Do I have to spell it out to you?  I have a pet rat, collect garbage and live in the basement of a luxury high-rise building.  Doesn't that account for anything"? We're the I.R.S.  You haven't paid taxes in five years.  "Who in the hell do you think your talking to?  Well I'm Willoughby.  That trumps everything and all.  Away with you"! Your sentenced to five years in prison for not paying your taxes.  Court adjourned. " How dare you judge me judge me judge me... judge.  After all, I'm Willoughby". ...and you'll stay in solitary confinement till you behave.   Sob, cry... but I'm Willoughby.. moan...Willoughby...cry...Willoughby...
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Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
Hey Rodney Dangerfield, I get no respect either.
Make sure to avoid thrombosis in the legs when flying in an airplane. How? I'm glad you asked. To keep the circulation flowing in your legs, go ahead and KICK the seat in front of you. Tell the flight attendant I said it was all right.
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Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 6:36 PM UTC
Willoughby Life Rule # 63
LOVE WILLOUGHBY'S MARRIAGE PROPOSAL... Do not only believe... Know I Love You for I Do! My eternal love, my true heart, my revelation, Do not only believe... Know this is a real Celebration! Do not only believe I am grateful for your Love eternally true, Know my heart, mind, body and soul without end will thank You. Do not only believe I merely hold out my heart in my hand, Know I offer my life and everything I have and am. Do not only believe in true love from your man, Know forever defending you, your devoted Knight I am. Indeed longing to give you the earth and the sky, Know for You I will live and even die. Sweet Love, my Brightest Star and my Goddess you are! Do not only believe great joy there always shall be, Know I promise happiness to the utmost of my ability. Embraced in velvety skies among stars we shall soar, Convinced our love is forever more. Do not only believe these are merely rings you see, Or simple golden circles from me... Know these are One Indestructible Loving Bond, Honoring You and Us Forever and Beyond. My heart and soul are now asking you respectfully, To please receive this golden bond and marry me. Do accept your William Francis Willoughby Lindesay! I solemnly promise to Honour and Faithfully always LOVE YOU, For my heart, mind, body and soul insist I definitely WILL and DO!
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 1:23 AM UTC
IN THE WILLOUGHBY COLLECTION
A KISS... Why such commotion for only a kiss? Asking that do know this; It was the most earth moving thing, It was summer and winter, autumn and spring. Something truly special many will miss. It was Christmas and May and unending bliss. It was heaven and earth, fire and ice, Ten thousand fold more than only nice. Eloquence without a single word, Mad secret frenzy... never heard, Warm lips even caressed by tantalizing fingers, And a certain feeling that not only lingers… Hurried urges up and down a spine; "Be mine! Be mine!" Both exuding passion and infinite charms, Being close with much more than only arms. It was me and you what else did we do…? Indeed done too… But with a kiss it all begun, And now my Sweet Bessie we are One. With Love and then some... Always Yours, Willoughby Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen
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Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
A KISS... (1810, of my Willoughby Poems)
Willoughby life rule #43 If your at one of those weird parties in one of those progressive towns full of people hard to identify gender wise.    Go ahead and do the reach around and grab their *** If they slap you it's a woman,  if they punch you it's a man. Look for other Willoughby life rules coming soon!
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Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
Life Rule #43
Willoughby is mad as hell... in 1940... Ooops... WAR ... AND MORE... Ever seen the letters W... A and R together before? Oh yes... Anew not only those are making WAR. Will that frequent horror ever pass? That inexcusable "Thing" on Humanity’s *** An everlasting incurable boil ghastly sore, Oozing the worst of Humanity and more? Constantly coming and going like the tide, But when and where just a few decide. People are masters of hate and grisly deed, Never taught what is wanted might not be of need. Power and ambition never ask permission, Whilst irrational hate use provocation, And millions of lives face elimination. Eloquence and Hypocrisy firmly hand in hand, We call Diplomacy... politicians understand. Greed for power mortal weapons do invent, And again from brave men in the skies, More death and hellish horrors are sent, As angels with devastating metal wings, Abolish infinitely more than things… Am I still asking is a God truly up there? Guaranteed He is near and with many side, Billions in His glory sanctimoniously hide. Believed defended by forgiveness and love, Many are blessed by a man Holier than Thou. Wars good business throughout history, Merciless souls hardly thought that a mystery. Nothing was ever nailed unshakably tight, Even souls are bought if the price is right. Most never find meaning in being too meek, For hardly anyone will turn the other cheek. As for Humanity’s desperate, everlasting quest, The God called Power was always the best. There was never a War ending all that is War, And just as the forgotten ones in times of yore, Will you later give a **** what this one was for? Yet dispensable battalions will always fight, For pay, honor and what insisted is right. Brave soldiers always proud not to complain, Are heroes dying well in seas, mud and rain, As one more profitable War must be won, Still wonder… Why the hell all of it begun? Willoughby Christmas Eve 1940 Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen
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Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
IN THE WILLOUGHBY COLLECTION
Willoughby is mad as hell... in 1940... Ooops... WAR ... AND MORE... Ever seen the letters W... A and R together before? Oh yes... Anew not only those are making WAR. Will that frequent horror ever pass? That inexcusable "Thing" on Humanity’s *** An everlasting incurable boil ghastly sore, Oozing the worst of Humanity and more? Constantly coming and going like the tide, But when and where just a few decide. People are masters of hate and grisly deed, Never taught what is wanted might not be of need. Power and ambition never ask permission, Whilst irrational hate use provocation, And millions of lives face elimination. Eloquence and Hypocrisy firmly hand in hand, We call Diplomacy... politicians understand. Greed for power mortal weapons do invent, And again from brave men in the skies, More death and hellish horrors are sent, As angels with devastating metal wings, Abolish infinitely more than things… Am I still asking is a God truly up there? Guaranteed He is near and with many side, Billions in His glory sanctimoniously hide. Believed defended by forgiveness and love, Many are blessed by a man Holier than Thou. Wars good business throughout history, Merciless souls hardly thought that a mystery. Nothing was ever nailed unshakably tight, Even souls are bought if the price is right. Most never find meaning in being too meek, For hardly anyone will turn the other cheek. As for Humanity’s desperate, everlasting quest, The God called Power was always the best. There was never a War ending all that is War, And just as the forgotten ones in times of yore, Will you later give a **** what this one was for? Yet dispensable battalions will always fight, For pay, honor and what insisted is right. Brave soldiers always proud not to complain, Are heroes dying well in seas, mud and rain, As one more profitable War must be won, Still wonder… Why the hell all of it begun? Willoughby Christmas Eve 1940 Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen
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Coming soon, the Willoughby gift shop featuring tee shirts with the thumbs up logo on front for only $89.99.  Made from 100% fabric like material.   Also a novelty flammable plastic oven mitt from Mustard Joe called," ***** catch-up, I want Mustard"!  Made in Vietnam as a friendly gesture, to the very people he used to shoot, maim, **** You don't even want to know the things he did over there!   Anyway, stop by the gift shop. Pendulum Pam works there and she's worth the price of admission on her own (that reminds me, the price of admission is 25 dollars to the gift shop).    Willoughby is absent this week with an STD which I think stands for "some kind of transmitted disease".  Like the flu or something.    Subbing in is me, Creepy Ray Ray (Mustard Joe wasn't available due to an appointment with his lobotomist - You don't even want to know the things he's seen or what's inside his head).                            Creepy Ray Ray life tip #1    When eating human flesh, and I'm not admitting that I ever have, braise quickly on both sides and let simmer in a light sauce as it tends to be tough to chew and somewhat gamey.  I lost a crown off a tooth chewing it once.
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Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
Willoughby gift shop
Just before the sun fires of the Day are turned low--when the Bright Summer sky is still pure Blue the Little League Park is Full of children and older folks. The children play games of no Names that are as old as the hills It is liked a revival meeting with No tent or preacher only people Come as  to some long ago Druid Holy place.  I say to myself Come my heart to me on this Bench of former times; let my Soul recline and be at peace All is well is it not though I do Not belong and am only a ****** incognito and alone. Just beyond the field is the River and across the river the Church my parents married in. There also the old high school their alma mater in that quaint Old time that was just before The war.  I had stopped here For reasons I cannot explain I had roots of conception in This town but not by birth All was to me as Willoughby My home in a wishful dream.
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Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
Little League Game
highway without cars, but condensated dreams scattered all over the road. past is the future, ahead the unknown, the road is neverendless.
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Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
A Stop At Willoughby
Why all the cabbage said I? It grows in the back said he. Where's the bathroom said I? The outhouse is in he back he said. Does your dad live in town I asked? No, my dad's buried in the back, out past. Did your grandfather save this farm for you to have? No, he's also buried in the back, in a grave.    So, at this point I  quite naturally just had to go into the back of the house, to see all there was to see.  Quite naturally. And dear God, let me tell you what I saw.               .....TO BE CONTINUED...... ( I'm learning the art of cliff hangers in my writing.  You know, leave them hanging.  Wanting for more.  As in...to be continued).     How am I doing? ( By the way, there is no ending to this poem. I'm a shock poet.  My poems are like being bitten by a word-snake.  Uncomfortable yes, but you'll probably live.        Willoughby, out!
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Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 11:47 PM UTC
Farmers Back Yard
Regarding yours truly he experienced setback amplified by Luddite propensity nostalgic longing for simpler age bring back horse and buggy better yet find me a mancave and/or apprise me ideally via email Flintstone web page modality allowing, enabling, and providing excellent linkedin access whereby augmented and/or augmented reality telecommunication simulation delivers, exports, and ferries lame poetaster to small town America a place that time forgot and the decades cannot improve within which dwell strong women, good-looking men and above average children Wobegon place name preserving lifestyle exhibiting voluntary simplicity though aforementioned fictitious locale fires up imagination as does a place called Willoughby flourishing along outer limits of twilight zone buzzfeeding outlier zee crème de la crème confabulist this side of Schwenksville hankering towards... nebulous body, mind and spirit synchronicity courtesy sweat of mine brow equity acquiring alliance, cognizance, existence, guidance, intelligence... think **** Proenneke alone in the wilderness survivalist jack of all trades I would live free, yet nevertheless die ill equipped to captcha victuals and/or drink to stave off hunger and/or thirst respectively one twenty first century beastie boy heavily dependent upon urbanization, mechanization, industrialization, civilization to savor creature comforts climate controlled environment(s) courtesy finite fossil fuel extraction **** sapiens scourge upon planet Earth me metaphorically on par one more human parasite zapping nonrenewable resources thus desirous (yet helpless) to forsake consumerist lifestyle yet lack ways and means to toil physically to wrest good n plenti juicy fruits of labor, which initial premise as iterated with poem title dramatically off tangent, yes?
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Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 9:02 PM UTC
Technical difficulty zooming into meeting
Regarding yours truly he experienced setback amplified by Luddite propensity nostalgic longing for simpler age bring back horse and buggy better yet find me a mancave and/or apprise me ideally via email Flintstone web page modality allowing, enabling, and providing excellent linkedin access whereby augmented and/or augmented reality telecommunication simulation delivers, exports, and ferries lame poetaster to small town America a place that time forgot and the decades cannot improve within which dwell strong women, good-looking men and above average children Wobegon place name preserving lifestyle exhibiting voluntary simplicity though aforementioned fictitious locale fires up imagination as does a place called Willoughby flourishing along outer limits of twilight zone buzzfeeding outlier zee crème de la crème confabulist this side of Schwenksville hankering towards... nebulous body, mind and spirit synchronicity courtesy sweat of mine brow equity acquiring alliance, cognizance, existence, guidance, intelligence... think **** Proenneke alone in the wilderness survivalist jack of all trades I would live free, yet nevertheless die ill equipped to captcha victuals and/or drink to stave off hunger and/or thirst respectively one twenty first century beastie boy heavily dependent upon urbanization, mechanization, industrialization, civilization to savor creature comforts climate controlled environment(s) courtesy finite fossil fuel extraction **** sapiens scourge upon planet Earth me metaphorically on par one more human parasite zapping nonrenewable resources thus desirous (yet helpless) to forsake consumerist lifestyle yet lack ways and means to toil physically to wrest good n plenti juicy fruits of labor, which initial premise as iterated with poem title dramatically off tangent, yes?
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Now that I've got your attention, hear this! I don't want you to like me, love me, or follow me. It means squat. But by God you better respect me!   Willoughby is the name! I bought some of the SUNS that you hand out when you like a poem. I thought you had to buy some to get on the site. They won't take them back.  Hey I'm an old man I get confused easily.   Don't you disrespect me! Any way I will hand them out the next few months to any poems  that I like and respect. Ah, now I'm the one with the power to pick and choose the approximate....apliccabel.  What's that word...appro.,,aaaaaaaawhat ever!!!!!!!!!!!!  I pick the ones that I think rite. Don't you disrespect me!!!
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Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 2:24 PM UTC
Im Going to be the First ******* on Hello poetry to Rhyme with the Word ORANGE
shooting on day 40 24.10.18 it was very sinister well orchestrated and not cheap who try-ed to take out our prime minister cowards as PM fast asleep. three in locks and chains but a separate crime punishing talking nominations never drains pure humour as zoe was flourishing. a bit of insecurity no nightmare or dream narcissus now in community not secure was akeem. just had a shower odds are now in getting dressed up for paddy power second is akeem but lewis set to win. day 40 was a book never before agree still set on my winner brooke says it all agreeing with india willoughby.
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Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 4:08 AM UTC
shooting on day 40
Most of my Lix spittle existence found me figuratively (primarily academically) adrift, and malfunctioning blinker analogous to a boat with out an ankh (caws away) aimlessly bobbing - and drowning akin to a besotted drinker just out of rest to be rescued by Mister Rinker sea ming lee without any hook, line and sinker despite being gifted with an above average thinker from without, where two myopic ocular orbs did winker. All thru academia just barely passing grades metaphorically suffered from anemia, and at my nadir, thy prepubescent psyche plummeted lovely bones into grave state, sans anorexia minus bulimia mental health also linkedin shot thru through with healthy dose of dysthymia cap (tinned em man hint mettle) kept awake with insomnia peppering cerebral cortex with monomania buzzfeed ding somnambulant zombified condition with a burning desire toward pyromania nsync with unmanageable raging (red dee and bull lush) testosterone spawning satyromania the above particularly accentuated, and cresting with accursed triskaidekaphobia most agonizing, when orbitz around Earth demarcated ten plus on a Friday the thirteenth, hence death be not proud sought after utopia pleading, longing, and hooping if I Willoughby able to sprinkle cremated ashes across Xenia.
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Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
On Lacking Sticktoitiveness