Sobran's --
The Real News of the Month
December 2000
Volume 7, No. 12
{Material dropped or altered for reasons of space
appears in curly brackets}
Editor: Joe Sobran
Publisher: Fran Griffin (Griffin Communications)
Managing Editor: Ronald N. Neff
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Features
THE MOVING PICTURE
(pages 1-2)
Thanks, Ralph.
* * *
Last month I said that by this issue I would know
who had won this year's presidential election. As usual,
my prediction was wrong. And I didn't even try to predict
the winner! I merely predicted that I'd know who he was.
I'm still not sure, but it looks like Bush.
* * *
The postelection struggle showed, again, how far the
Democrats are willing to go in order to win or steal an
election. They are a criminal party, and they seek to
control the government for criminal purposes. Their
ruthlessness should shock only those who don't yet
understand this.
* * *
I told an anarchist friend that he should be happy
now: we are rapidly approaching his Utopia. Just kidding,
of course. Pure anarchy isn't the same thing as chaos. It
means the absence of a sovereign power, in which social
relations are voluntary. That's the opposite of what we
have now: a sovereign power that is essentially lawless.
* * *
{With his usual flair for symbolism, Gore chose
William Daley as his campaign manager. Daley is the son
of Chicago's legendary Mayor Richard Daley, one of the
greatest political crooks in American history, whose most
famous achievement was mobilizing dead voters to carry
Illinois for John Kennedy in 1960. (Lyndon Johnson did
likewise in Texas.) It was delicious to hear the younger
Daley complaining that Gore had been robbed by defective
ballots in Florida.}
* * *
One's misgivings about the Florida results were
intensified when Alan Dershowitz and Jesse Jackson jumped
into the fray on Gore's side. An honest outcome isn't
necessarily these gents' top priority. You'd think the
Democratic candidate was O.J. Simpson.
* * *
The Florida imbroglio points up the urgent need for
foreign observers to supervise our elections in order to
ensure their integrity. Maybe a team of Haitians?
* * *
Al Gore's victory in the popular vote ends the myth
of the "Republican Revolution." The Republicans have
wasted the great opportunity of 1994. They never
presented a consistent and intelligible conservative
philosophy that might have rallied a majority of the
voters; instead, they stuck with short-term pragmatic
politics, at which Bill Clinton beat them at every turn.
And it can only get worse: the white majority is
dwindling, Christian influence is waning, and the
Democrats are banking on the continuing and relentless
influx of non-European immigrants. And thanks to the
media and "education," the culture of the Present will
obliterate the very memory of the America that was.
* * *
Given this superobvious pattern, the Republicans may
never muster another national majority. (I call those
things superobvious which are so large that they usually
escape notice. As Chesterton said: "Men can always be
blind to a thing, so long as it is big enough.")
* * *
The freakishness of this year's election was
captured in a NEW YORK POST cartoon showing Fidel Castro
talking to Elian Gonzalez under the caption "Filling
little Elian's head with crazy notions about America."
Castro is saying: "... And then the president's wife, the
vice president's running mate, and the dead guy all got
elected to the U.S. Senate."
* * *
Speaking of the president's wife, can we have a
recount in New York?
* * *
To my mind the most puzzling fact about the election
is that Nader got only 1 per cent of the Jewish vote.
Usually the most left-wing candidate gets
disproportionate support from Jews, but not this time.
Joseph Lieberman's presence on the Democratic ticket
isn't enough to explain it; after all, Bush and Cheney
still got 19 per cent of Jewish votes. The fact that
Nader is an Arab-American and favored ending U.S. aid to
Israel was no doubt a factor, but even that can't account
for it, since leftist Jews are often hostile to Israel.
* * *
"It will be of little avail to the people that the
laws are made by men of their own choice, if the laws be
so voluminous that they cannot be read, or so incoherent
that they cannot be understood; if they be repealed or
revised before they are promulged, or undergo such
incessant changes that no man who knows what the law is
to-day can guess what it will be to-morrow. Law is
defined to be a rule of action; but how can that be a
rule, which is little known and less fixed?" James
Madison, THE FEDERALIST PAPERS (No. 62)
* * *
{The last eight years have proved at least one
thing: this country is no longer capable of producing a
John Wilkes Booth. The blame probably lies with public
education.}
* * *
After the Restoration of King Charles II in 1860,
{corrected in February 2001 to "1660"} the English theater
saw a movement to "improve" Shakespeare's plays. In 1681
Nahum Tate furnished the English stage with an adaptation
of KING LEAR, distinguished by a happy ending in which Lear
and Cordelia survive and Cordelia marries Edgar, son and
heir of the Earl of Gloucester, who speaks the happy moral
of the play: "That truth and virtue shall at last succeed."
Nothing could be further from the spirit of Shakespeare's
most profound tragedy than this facile optimism. (Tate
also eliminated the play's rich humor.) This absurd
mutilation -- "the most infamous of Restoration
adaptations," as one scholar puts it -- was a huge
success: Tate became England's poet laureate, and his
version replaced Shakespeare's on the stage for a century
and a half. The original wasn't performed again until the
nineteenth century!
* * *
An interesting story of one of the most prolonged
and embarrassing lapses of taste in the history of the
arts. But I mention it because it strikes me as a fine
analogy for the fate of the U.S. Constitution. Since the
Civil War, the Nahum Tates of government have "improved"
the Constitution with ill-conceived amendments and even
more bizarre interpretations. The difference is that we
eventually got the real KING LEAR back.
* * *
It's amusing to recall that when the Constitution
was drafted, Gouverneur Morris argued against annual
sessions of Congress on grounds that there wouldn't be
enough business to warrant such frequent assemblies.
* * *
Remember, regardless of the outcome, it's not too
early to start thinking about impeachment.
A Weird Election
(pages 3-4)
This issue of SOBRAN'S has been slightly delayed
because of the election, then further delayed by the
astonishing results. As I write, Florida has officially
certified George W. Bush the winner, freeing him to admit
that Dick Cheney is dead. Bush carried the state by fewer
votes than the total number of votes in the Electoral
College. The outcome in such a close race was bound to be
more or less arbitrary. There is no clear "mandate," no
unequivocal Will of the People, but the majority of the
voters, in their wisdom, didn't want either Bush or Gore
to be president.
I like to think that the weird outcome was karma for
the Democrats' venerable tradition of vote fraud. I
remember Lyndon Johnson's Texas, the late Richard Daley's
Chicago, and who knows what else, right up to recent
efforts to enfranchise illegal immigrants; the computer
age may also afford new possibilities of electoral
larceny.
The Democrats are understandably furious at Ralph
Nader, who won more than 90,000 votes in Florida and may
have cost Gore several other states as well. Even before
the election, the NEW YORK TIMES was editorially railing
about Nader's "irresponsibility" and "egomania," warning
that he was likely to defeat the very causes he favored
by depriving Gore of the margin of victory. (It didn't
express apprehension that Pat Buchanan might do the same
to Bush.) Liberal Democrats felt, and feel even more
strongly now, that Nader was one of their own and that he
was betraying them.
But it's false to suggest there were no vital
differences between Nader and Gore. For openers, Nader
(who is of Lebanese blood) proposed to cut off aid to
Israel and end this country's imperial role in the Middle
East; Gore and Lieberman were devoted to Israeli
interests and to U.S. imperialism. Nader also opposes
NAFTA, which Gore favors. Nor does Gore, despite his
"populist" rhetoric, share Nader's sincere contempt for
big corporations and special interests; his political
life has always depended on them. The Democrats are
having a hard time getting it through their heads that
Nader simply is not one of them. He has principles and he
is serious about launching a movement to destroy the two-
party lock on American politics. And it must be said that
he managed to connect with more voters than Pat Buchanan,
Harry Browne, and Howard Phillips put together.
True, Nader wants many of the same things the
Democrats say they want, but the difference is that he
really means it. They do him wrong to treat him like a
naughty child and his campaign as a tantrum. They are the
ones who are pouting. It was their candidate who dodged a
debate with him. Yet they still feel that Nader somehow
"stole" from Gore the votes he earned from people who saw
him as the only admirable candidate in the field.
Democratic fury is also being directed at the
Electoral College, which for the fourth time has awarded
the presidency to a candidate who lost in the popular
vote -- a clear affront to majoritarian democracy, though
Gore didn't get a majority of the votes cast. Gore
himself contributed much to his own defeat. He ran a dull
campaign, got caught in gratuitous fibs, overexposed his
repellent side, then was upstaged in the final weekend by
the release of the story that Bush had once been ticketed
for drunk driving; though Gore distanced himself from the
story (he had to distance himself from so many things!),
it emanated from a Democratic hack in Maine who surely
coordinated its release with Gore and his staff.
Bush's victory is nothing to rejoice over, but
Gore's defeat is a relief. He would have governed
aggressively, expanding the power of the federal
government at every opportunity; he would have been a
ruthless and militant promoter of abortion, sodomy, and
feminism; he might well have launched a few little wars;
and above all, he would have filled the federal judiciary
with enemies of constitutional government. The erosion of
freedom and the rule of law will continue under Bush, but
not as rapidly as under Gore.
As for the Electoral College, it is indeed an
anachronism that serves no real purpose. It certainly
doesn't do what it was supposed to do: elect presidents
who are, in Alexander Hamilton's words, "pre-eminent for
ability and virtue." So wrote Hamilton, as "Publius," in
Federalist No. 68.
For what it's worth, the Framers of the Constitution
didn't want the president elected by direct popular vote.
Simple majority rule was alien and abhorrent to them, as
the present two-party duopoly and the popular election of
senators would have been; as Hamilton put it, direct
popular election of presidents would produce "tumult and
disorder." They prescribed that the people of each state
should elect a body of presumably incorrupt and
disinterested electors, men who possessed the requisite
"information and discernment" to choose among candidates
for the presidency. These electors, in Hamilton's words,
should be "men most capable of analyzing the qualities
adapted to the station [of the presidency]." They should
not be officeholders, who might have "too great [a]
devotion" to the incumbent president; their number would
be a safeguard against "corruption."
But if no winner emerged, the election would fall to
the House of Representatives, where each state delegation
would cast a single vote.
Hamilton predicted the happy result of this design:
"This process of election affords a moral certainty that
the office of president will seldom fall to the lot of
any man who is not in an eminent degree endowed with the
requisite qualifications. Talents for low intrigue and
the little arts of popularity may alone suffice to
elevate a man to the first honors in a single state; but
it will require other talents and a different kind of
merit to establish him in the esteem and confidence of
the whole Union, or of so considerable a portion of it as
would be necessary to make him a successful candidate for
the distinguished office of president of the United
States. It will not be too strong to say that there will
be a constant probability of seeing the station filled by
characters pre-eminent for ability and virtue."
In other words, the Electoral College was meant to
be a distinct institution, a *genuine deliberative body,*
part of a system generally designed to decentralize
power, mute popular passions, control factions, and
dissipate the influence of corruption. Seen that way, and
performing those functions, it makes excellent sense.
What makes no sense is that the Electoral College
should have become what it is now: a silly game that
duplicates, while distorting, the results of a popular
vote, with a winner-take-all rule in most states and the
electors acting as mere ciphers. Gore's partisans are
right about it, but they played the game without
complaint until they lost. As long as they thought they
could win, we heard nary a murmur from them.
It isn't that the U.S. Constitution is holy; but I
think of it as a great and fascinating work of art, like
HAMLET or PARADISE LOST, expressing a deeply thought-out
way of looking at the world. Its vision may now be as
passé as feudalism, but it's worth getting to know.
Subsequent generations, missing its inner spirit, have
ruined it, like a vain fool daubing new streaks of paint
on an old masterpiece in the conviction that he is
improving it when it's no longer even recognizable.
{(I'm reminded of a pop music adaptation of Mozart some
years ago, which "enhanced" his fortieth symphony by
adding a thudding percussive beat.)} Modern democracy
has destroyed the essence of the thing; yet it flatters
itself that it has preserved the Constitution, only
because it has preserved its words while ignoring, or
willfully forgetting, their import.
A witty friend once quipped to me that something of
the Constitution still survives: "We still have two
senators per state." Superficially, yes; but the original
Senate no longer exists. The Seventeenth Amendment
virtually abolished it by requiring the popular election
of senators; before that, senators were chosen by state
legislatures, because the Senate was supposed to
represent the interests of state governments and to
prevent usurpations of their powers. The House was to
speak for the people, the Senate for the states. When the
Senate was converted to a popular body too, it lost its
rationale and became as superfluous as the Electoral
College now is, imperfectly duplicating functions better
performed by the House: instead of representing the
states equally, it represents the people unequally.
The states, meanwhile, have been reduced to mere
administrative subdivisions of a monolithic nation-state.
They have lost the defining mark of a true state, which
is sovereignty, and such powers as they retain are held
not by right but by the sufferance of the federal
government. But not one American in a hundred (and
perhaps not one senator in a hundred) understands all
this. Nearly everyone believes the cheerful myth that
nothing has essentially changed since 1789.
But everything has changed. No American ought to
read the Constitution without a sense of loss. Much as I
dislike false veneration of the "living document," it
prescribes a form of government infinitely superior to
the current American regime. We would all be much freer
if the U.S. government played by its own rules. But there
is no way to force it to do so as long as {the American
people} remain ignorant of their own political heritage.
The most successful revolutions are not those that
are celebrated with parades and banners, drums and
trumpets, but those that occur unnoticed. The
Constitution has been quietly abolished; the American
regime can't afford to acknowledge this, except
obliquely. But discerning readers of history know that
American history, especially since the Civil War, has
been an irreversible process of centralizing power. This
election will do nothing to change that.
After a dull campaign in which the most important
questions about governance rarely surfaced, we got a
dizzying election made all the more confusing and bitter
because the constitutionally prescribed Electoral College
has been reduced to an absurd relic. The outcome gave the
regime a shock it richly deserved.
The Spirit of Falstaff
(pages 5-6)
I fell in love with Shakespeare in 1961, when I was
15. This was quite apart from the authorship question,
which I ignored until I was 40. Among the countless books
of criticism I read, A.C. Bradley's classic SHAKESPEAREAN
TRAGEDY and Mark Van Doren's SHAKESPEARE stood out.
But the book that changed my entire way of seeing
Shakespeare was THE MEANING OF SHAKESPEARE, by Harold
Clarke Goddard -- to my mind the most original commentary
on Shakespeare ever written. It appeared posthumously in
1951, the rather inapt title supplied by the publisher; a
better title would have been THE SPIRIT OF SHAKESPEARE.
Goddard would have resisted the suggestion that
Shakespeare can be captured by any single "meaning."
Goddard writes of Shakespeare with an unabashed love
bordering on adoration. He was a Quaker who taught at
Bryn Mawr, and his tone is that of a wise and
affectionate teacher who would rather impart his
enthusiasm than impose his ideas; he is fond of quoting
William Blake's saying that "enthusiastic admiration is
the first principle of knowledge, and the last." He never
sounds academic.
I didn't like Goddard at first; in fact he enraged
me. I began with his chapter on HAMLET, in which he
rejects the general assumption that Hamlet is duty-bound
to avenge his father's murder. This struck me as
perversely wrong. Nevertheless, as I read on I gradually
saw that Goddard was right. Hamlet's descent into the
cycle of violence, driven by a false conscience which his
father's spirit encourages, results not in justice but in
chaos and destruction. He, his mother, and several
others, including the innocent Ophelia, die along with
his murderous uncle, and Denmark falls under the sway of
a foreign power, Norway: that is the price of revenge.
In Goddard's view, Hamlet exemplifies a recurrent
pattern in Shakespeare. In play after play, the hero is
torn between Force (the male, atavistic, and often
paternal influence) and Imagination (the feminine
principle). Romeo, the tender lover, is drawn into an
ancestral feud that destroys him and Juliet; noble Brutus
tries to defeat tyranny by force, only to produce an even
worse tyranny; Hamlet's revenge mission results in the
ruin of Denmark; Richard III and Macbeth resort to
murder, issuing in wars that consume them; King Lear
tries to impose his will on his children, plunging
England into madness; Coriolanus comes to a tragic end
because, under the influence of his domineering mother,
he sacrifices his natural feelings to military power and
patrician intransigence, until even she begs him to
relent. In the comedies, on the other hand, the feminine
principle wins out in the end; anger and enmity (or even
the "merry war" between the sexes) yield to the creative
spirit: mercy, peace, and reconciliation, included in and
symbolized by marriage.
But Goddard's pinnacle may be his interpretation of
the Henry V cycle, beginning with RICHARD II. He
challenges the prevalent notion that Henry V is
Shakespeare's ideal king. Instead, he sees the cycle as
subtly debunking a national hero.
In the traditional legend of Henry V, Henry -- as
Prince Hal -- led a wild youth until his father's death,
then underwent a sudden reformation, banishing his
lowlife companions and rising to military heroism. And
this is the way the Henry V cycle is usually described:
Shakespeare takes the legend at face value, most critics
agree, and Hal has no choice but to reject Falstaff and
the rest.
But according to Goddard, Hal must choose between
the principle of Force represented by his father, Henry
IV, who has deposed Richard II, and the principle of
Imagination, represented by Falstaff. Hal's cold-blooded
rejection of Falstaff proves that he is too much his
father's son, and the ghost of Falstaff hovers over
HENRY V as the "mirror of all Christian kings" cynically
invades and conquers France, using threats of mass rape
and massacre to induce surrender. He warns the city of
Harfleur that it will see its naked infants impaled on
his soldiers' spears if it resists. (The action scenes in
Laurence Olivier's film of the play, made to boost
British morale during World War II, show Henry fighting
righteously and valiantly; in the play itself, we never
see Henry fighting at all, and Olivier had to cut several
passages portraying his ruthless brutality in order to
sustain his heroic aura.)
Goddard supports his interpretation with a close
reading of the text. But beyond that, he sees Falstaff as
close to the essence of Shakespeare, not in his vices
(which Goddard agrees are real and indefensible), but in
his ability to transcend "the tyranny of things as they
are. Falstaff is immortal because he is a symbol of the
supremacy of the imagination over fact. He forecasts
man's final victory over Fate itself. Facts stand in our
way. Facts melt before Falstaff like ice before a summer
sun -- dissolve in the aqua regia of his resourcefulness
and wit. He realizes the age-old dream of all men: to
awaken in the morning and to know that no master, no
employer, no bodily need or sense of duty calls, no fear
or obstacle stands in the way -- only a fresh beckoning
day that is wholly ours."
But "freedom is only the negative side of Falstaff.
Possessing it, he perpetually does something creative
with it. It is not enough for him to be the sworn enemy
of facts. Any lazy man or fool is that. He is the sworn
enemy of the factual spirit itself, of whatever is dull,
inert, banal. Facts merely exist -- and so do most men.
Falstaff lives. And where he is, life becomes bright,
active, enthralling."
On the other hand, "the Immortal Falstaff" is
undermined by "the Immoral Falstaff," and in the end he
gives Hal plenty of color for rejecting and denouncing
him. All the same, it's a terrible pity, even a tragedy
for both men, that Henry and Falstaff come to such a
parting of the ways.
This is not the usual language of literary
criticism. Goddard is frankly concerned with what
Shakespeare has to say about human life and the spirit,
and he refuses to treat the plays as closed texts. He
sees them as illuminating each other, showing how
Shakespeare's insight deepens from one work to the next.
For all their wonderful variety and pageantry, they also
have a collective integrity, an inner unity of purpose.
"His plays and poems deserve to be considered integrally,
as chapters, so to speak, of a single work." While
Shakespeare the Playwright achieves wonderful dramatic
effects, Shakespeare the Poet complicates or even
contradicts the plays' ostensible meanings with hidden
ironies.
Falstaff at his best is the very spirit of
Shakespeare, marvelously free and creative. All the
greatest Shakespearean characters -- Hamlet, Cleopatra,
Rosalind, even the repentant Lear -- have something of
the old knight's ability to transmute a situation through
the power of imagination. At their peak moments, they
refuse to be defeated by mere fact. They are united by
their "refusal to value life in terms of anything but
life itself": they never measure life by worldly
standards.
Goddard audaciously suggests that Lear dies in joy
at seeing that the dead Cordelia is truly alive after
all, despite what a literal reading of the text may seem
to say; and in dying, he joins her in eternal life.
Whether such a proposition can be "proved" is irrelevant
to Goddard; he insists that every reading of the plays
involves a meeting between Shakespeare's imagination and
the reader's. There is no single inherent meaning apart
from what we make of the plays, provided we read them
with full attention. They mirror our own spirits. The
more we put into them, the more we get out of them. For
Goddard this is true of all poetry, not just Shakespeare.
He delights in quoting, with full sympathy, the naive
reactions of his own students. He thinks they can tell us
more about Shakespeare than the sophisticated judgments
of sober scholars who abstain from offering opinions
about life outside the plays.
For Goddard, poetry is a kind of prophecy, and
Shakespeare is among the supreme oracles of literature.
He sees not only Shakespeare's works but all literary
works and spiritual writings as commenting on each other;
he appeals to the Bible, the UPANISHADS, Blake, Goethe,
Emerson, Thoreau, Dostoyevsky, Samuel Butler, and William
James, to name a few.
This makes his style of commentary embarrassing to
most academic scholars. But it gives his book urgency,
and he captures something vital in the perennial appeal
of Shakespeare. We don't read Shakespeare merely to learn
about Elizabethan life; we read him because he shows us
life itself. Goddard acknowledges that we should
understand the historical context of the plays, but he
denies that that context explains those plays. Rather, it
is like the soil in which a flower grows: "The secret of
why the germinating seed selects certain ingredients of
the soil, while utterly ignoring others, lies in the
seed, not in the soil."
Even Shakespeare, if we could interview him,
wouldn't have the last word on what his plays "mean."
Once they exist, their meaning is up to us. In this
sense, Goddard resembles the recent deconstructionists,
though he has none of their nihilism. For him the
impossibility of a final, definitive "meaning" is reason
for hope, not despair. "For my part," he says, "I believe
we are nearer the beginning than the end of our
understanding of Shakespeare's genius."
Nobody has explained Shakespeare's power to enhance
life better than Goddard. Everyone praises Shakespeare; a
few critics deepen one's understanding of him. But only
Goddard leaves the reader feeling that Shakespeare is
even greater than anyone has realized.
Nuggets
HUH? {Writing of the Beatles in THE WEEKLY STANDARD,
Daniel Wattenberg observes that} "John Lennon and Paul
McCartney raised popular music to a peak of balanced
artistry we are unlikely to see again soon." Well, maybe,
if you judge them against more recent rock. But popular
music was doing all right with the Gershwins, Cole
Porter, Rodgers & Hart & Hammerstein, Johnny Mercer, Duke
Ellington, Harold Arlen, {Harry Ruby, Frank Loesser, and
a few others I could mention, some of whom} were still
active when Lennon and McCartney came along to "raise"
the level thereof. Rock belongs to the culture of
amnesia, and so, it seems, does THE WEEKLY STANDARD.
(page 10)
RECRIMINTIONS, ANYONE? My biggest disappointment this
year was the poor showing of Howard Phillips and the
Constitution Party. So far, I'm glad to report, nobody
has blamed it on my resignation from the ticket. (page
11)
STOP THE PRESSES! I just saw a Jew make the sign of the
Cross. You'll never guess: it was Claire Bloom as Lady
Anne at her husband's funeral, in Laurence Olivier's film
of RICHARD III. I'd seen the movie a hundred times before
I noticed it. Let's hope the Anti-Defamation League
doesn't find out. They'd rather she made porn flicks.
(page 11)
Exclusive to the electronic version:
COME AGAIN? TIME magazine cites a few Bushisms that are
worthy of Dan Quayle: "I know how hard it is to put food
on your family." "I understand small business growth. I
was one." "The most important job is not to be governor,
or first lady in my case." But I found this one downright
disingenious, as Bush himself might say: "The human being
and the fish can coexist peacefully." Not as long as we
keep eating them.
CONTRA BUSH: Think about it. We eat fish by the millions.
But when one of them eats even one of us, we make a movie
about it. And of course we consider it a happy ending
when the fish gets killed! Bush thinks fish would call
*that* peaceful coexistence?
Reprinted Columns (pages 7-12)
* History's Winners (October 3, 2000)
http://www.sobran.com/columns/001003.shtml
* The Few and the Many (October 10, 2000)
http://www.sobran.com/columns/001010.shtml
* Beware of Allies (October 17, 2000)
http://www.sobran.com/columns/001017.shtml
* Tyson, Golota, and Hamlet (October 24, 2000)
http://www.sobran.com/columns/001024.shtml
* Putting Israel First (November 2, 2000)
http://www.sobran.com/columns/001102.shtml
* A Rare Scholar (November 7, 2000)
http://www.sobran.com/columns/001107.shtml
All articles are written by Joe Sobran
Copyright (c) 2000. All rights reserved.
SOBRAN'S is distributed by the Griffin Internet
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[ENDS]