I recently arrived at my 48th year on this planet. With a good bit of luck, I can make it to 2050. Thirty five years. It’s as far away from me now as 2015 was when I was 12 years old.

In 1980, people wore jeans, t-shirts and runners. They had colour TVs, digital watches and Tupperware. Star Wars was already a thing. The big difference, of course, was computerisation and mobile technology, but even so, there was a familiarity about those times. In the same way, 2050 may not be too foreign to modern sensibilities when it eventually arrives. We are well on our way to this future date.

By now, it should be obligatory for me to tell you that the years fly by too quickly, and that I remember the 1980s like they happened yesterday. But honestly, it was a long time ago. I was a child back then. I can’t lay claim to that title anymore, however hard I have tried to delay the onset of adulthood.

I think this feeling of ‘tempus fugit’ is something of a delusion. Life doesn’t fly by as fast as we think it does. Days might whizz by, but there are a few hundred of them in each year. It’s a lot of time. 10 years is a whole heap of time and 30 years practically an eternity. It’s just that our brains make the past seem so much closer than it really is.

I’m pretty sure that this sense of time passing by quickly is a function of a memory system that best remembers the things we remember the most. Music, particularly the most popular tunes, seem recent only because we hear them often. So too with places visited regularly, like my mother’s home, or local schools and shopping centres. We recall distant events there clearly only because we are minded to remember them quite often. The gap in time is shortened only because we frequently remember the memory, not the event itself.

Maybe it’s where I am now in my life. With my children now passing into teenagehood, I seem to remember their earlier years as a transient blur. But in reality, I don’t think it was quite so speedy. There was plenty enough time there for my father to fall sick and pass away; for my marriage to crash-land and for a while, chaos to take the place of security. It’s just that I have forgotten so much. Perhaps that’s the real tragedy of ageing: so many experiences have been scattered to the four winds. What remains now are bare threads.

Life is long. It’s long enough for us to make big mistakes and to recover from them. It’s long enough to breach the surface after diving the depths of despair. It’s long enough to see green shoots where once there was bare earth. Even in middle-age, there is still time to find peace; to make life more livable for those around us; perhaps to yet follow our dreams. 

Despite the awfulness of forgetting, maybe  there is more time there than we normally appreciate. And in that, I think, there is hope.

Some weeks ago, a work colleague from the US asked me if it was a good idea to hire a car when she would be in Cork.

I had to think about it for a minute, and then I gave my answer:

Hell No.

Cork is a driving disaster zone, not because our drivers are somewhat absent minded, nor because of inclement weather, nor because we drive on the other side of the road to US drivers, nor because we have these teeny narrow streets you have to navigate through. No. It’s a disaster zone because, come rush hour or moderate traffic, you need to have truly psychic powers to navigate yourself around the city.

To drive successfully in Cork traffic you need something akin to the Knowledge, cherished by London cabbies. This is an intimate understanding of the unwritten rules on which lane to move into and when to do it, before executing a manoeuvre. Crucially, the correct positioning might be required in a totally different part of the city.

McCurtain Street for instance. To be in the correct lane when you reach the Leisureplex Coliseum, you need to be deciding lanes way back on Patrick’s Bridge.

Or try Brian Boru Bridge, turning left, straight on or right by the Bus Station. To get it right, you need to have pre-chosen your lane in McCurtain Street. Get it wrong and you’re in a whole lot of trouble.

Following the same road down Clontarf Street to the City Hall, you need to have picked the correct lane by the Bus Station, or woe betide you.

Another beauty is the South Link road heading into town. If you are intending to go to Dublin or Rosslare via the Lower Glanmire Road, you need to have already chosen the correct lane at the Elysian Towers, half a mile away.

Or try the Christy Ring bridge from the Mallow Road – actually, don’t bother. Christy Ring Bridge itself is a traffic nightmare zone at the best of times, no matter what direction you approach it from. I’m sure its traffic light system was part of a psychological torture plot in a former life.

These are just a few examples of a traffic system not just designed by committee, but probably designed by camels. My advice to anyone driving through the city? Lodge a flight plan in advance. And bring emergency supplies. Getting through Cork in rush hour may take some time.

Let me just say something straight out. ISIS/Daesh are a gang of murderous, vicious thugs. They are part of a network of religious cults that would put the Moonies, Scientology and Jim Jones in the shade. Their poisonous ideology is reminiscent of the Blut und Stahl mindset of Nazi Germany, where ideology overrode basic humanity, allowing all manner of atrocities to occur. It’s the worst, most hermetically sealed, conspiracy laden, violent, misogynistic, racist, anti-human worldview of our time. ISIS/Daesh must be defeated.

The question is, how to defeat them.

There appears to be a small number of widely-held views, depending on which side of the political spectrum you lie on, that I call “placebo solutions”. The aim seems to be to address the feelings of those who espouse them, without actually dealing with the real problem.

On the political right, you have the “they are all the same” placebo solution. Under this idea, all Muslims are considered to be potential (or actual) terrorists, particularly the hapless refugees who have left their homes in Syria and Iraq in search of an uncertain future in foreign states. Right wingers want them scrutinised, vetted, isolated and thrown back to their own countries. In those lands, they want to bomb them into oblivion. All this in spite of overwhelming evidence that most Muslims and refugees are peace-loving ordinary people. Irish people should be well familiar with this mindset, given how we were viewed with suspicion during the murderous IRA campaigns of the 1970s and 80s.

Not only are these just salves for right-wing anger, they have the side-effect of further marginalising Muslims and pushing unemployed youths into the arms of the terrorists. It also creates local, reactionary terrorism – vigilante gangs whose lack of forethought is matched by their violence.

On the political left, you have the view that this terrorism is solely the creation of the West and that military action is never appropriate. the more conspiratorially minded would suggest that ISIS/Daesh is a creation of the West. That, instead of going to war against ISIS/Daesh, we need to understand the causes, maybe even pander to their views as if they had an equal place at the ideological table. This is to discount the fact that Salafism is a pretty hard-boiled system of thought at this stage. It is far more than a response to victimisation. The main focus of ISIS/Daesh wrath has not really been Westerners, but other Muslim sects and local groups, such as Yazidis and Kurds, with no record of imperialism and domination. In fact, local civilians have been, by far, the greatest victims of their outrages, thus the refugee crisis.

When threatened with war, countries have no choice but to use whatever means are at their disposal to protect their citizens and those who call their country home. War is an abomination, but what do you do when confronted by war from others? There is always a fine line to be tread between civil liberties and protection and in a peaceful society it should always veer towards personal liberty. But in times of war and evidence of real danger from an enemy force? What then? Just stand by and hold out flowers to them?


Placebo responses only help to sate pre-existing views. They do nothing to solve the problem. What we need are cool heads, better intelligence sharing, and intense co-ordination between multiple states. Strategies are needed to identify the ringleaders, destroy their ability to function and, ultimately, eliminate them. If ISIS/Daesh want to play war, then, for certain, our war professionals – generals and military experts – are more adept, more strategic, more networked and better resourced than any rag-tag bunch of terrorists could ever be. In situations such as what we are seeing, we need to let them get on with their jobs with a minimum of political interference.

Ultimately, the crucial objective is not really the elimination of ISIS/Daesh, although this is a necessary pre-condition. It’s the rebuilding afterwords and the creation of a long lasting peace that will allow people to return to their homelands. Hospitals, homes, schools, electricity, water – the basic services of life. Remove the threat, then rebuild. This is the big challenge for the civilised world if the peace is to be permanent.

Dear God,

You truly are the Worst Idea Ever.


Because of You, millions have gone to war.

Millions have died. because of You.

People torture In Your Name.

They inflict cruelty and suffering In Your Name.

And You know the worst thing?

These killers, these torturers, they sleep peacefully at night

Because of You.


You give us False Hope.

When it works out, you steal the success for Yourself.

When it doesn’t, we shoulder all the blame.

Instead of responding to Injustice,

You say, “It’ll be better in the next life”.

Or even worse, You say we will Burn Forever.

That’s a nice touch, God.


Because of You, whole groups of people

Come in second place,

Or third place, or forever last.

You don’t much like difference, do you God?

But money, power and privilege? Ah. That’s different.

Now I know your holy people say otherwise

But we all know how it works out.


So do us all a favour.

We can get by just fine without You.

We can sort out our own problems.

We can talk. We can compromise.

We can understand.

We can dream.

By listening to ourselves, and less to You,

We’ve made things better.

We’ve brought light to dark places.

And comfort for crying eyes.


You know what?

We can take it From Here.


So do us all a favour, God.

And begone.

You were never a Great Idea in the first place.

Picture the scene. It’s 2813 AD and a school class is reviewing the history from the 21st Century. The teacher begins the class with this statement. “The 21st Century is an interesting period in time, mainly because we know so little about it. In many cases, all we can do is speculate”.

What? The 21st Century? The Information Age? The age where we can receive the answers we need at the touch of a button? Where we share almost everything about ourselves on Facebook? Where one hour of footage is uploaded to YouTube every second? Where vast records are stored on each one of us by shadowy intelligence agencies and Internet businesses across the planet? How could this be?

Nevertheless, in 800 years time, little of this will remain. We don’t need to conjure up a great catastrophe for this to happen. The pace of technological change alone could render the records of our lives impenetrable and impossible to discover.

The Dark Ages – a period stretching roughly from 500 AD to 800 AD, is so called because records of this time, in Western Europe at least, are few and far between. The Western Roman Empire was at an end. Migrating tribes roamed the continent and fought each other bitterly in search of a new homeland. Bubonic plague decimated the population. Scholarship disappeared, with the result that almost all Europeans alive could neither read nor write. There are very few accounts of life in Europe during this time.

Literacy and numeracy were reintroduced to Europe mainly via the Islamic World and ever so slowly, books were written and record keeping began again in earnest. The Renaissance saw a re-kindling of learning and with the advent of the printing press, a bright light was shone into the people and the events of the times. Over the intervening centuries, with ever greater literacy and technology, this light has dramatically increased. Now, at the height of this illuminated age, all this knowledge may disappear into thin air rather rapidly.

Paper is by no means a perfect way to keep records, but it has the relative advantages of clarity and durability. In their basic form, books in the 13th century were not much different from books in the 19th Century. With a bit of luck, they might have avoided being set on fire or being destroyed by an iconoclast, allowing trained historians to read them and interpret them with relation to other books from the time.

But all this could now stop because we are now moving away from paper as a primary means of storing information. Instead, our records have moved to electronic media. Computers, laser disks, hard drives and distributed private server farms (aka the Cloud), now hold much of the information produced each day. More and more data is encrypted, meaning that even if you had the technology to read the data, you might not have the keys required to decipher the information. Most private companies will eventually fail, and with them their vast storage capabilities may go dark. Furthermore, the information is electronic and magnetic in nature, meaning that it may not have the permanence of ink on paper. A few magnetic storms or simply the effects of loss of charge over time may put paid to most of our electronic records in a relatively short period. 

Historians of future centuries will have a big problem on their hands, should paper disappear entirely over the coming decades. Ironically, they may need to look towards less advanced societies or communities to find primarily records from the past. Luddite paper loving hold-outs or impoverished societies on the far side of the digital divide might provide the only keys to the goings on in our century.

Of course archaeologists will have a field day, given the amount of non recyclable trash available to them. We’re a filthy lot, so they won’t have too many problems figuring out how we lived, or what we wore, drove or ate. It’s just that there may not be any voices from that time, adding colour to this picture. In the total absence of available records, we literally become prehistoric, like ancient Celtic or Germanic tribes. 

Paper is not quite dead yet, so I expect we are a long way from total darkness, but one thing is virtually certain: much of what we are recording today – the vast billions and trillions of megabytes recorded each day – will eventually go missing. We are an information rich, yet record poor, society. If we ignore this issue, it will reverberate down the generations. 

There is a difference between Science and Religion.

Science needs evidence. Science embraces evidence. If the evidence tells you something that conflicts with your beliefs, then in science, the evidence wins. It must win, because that’s how progress happens in science. Scientists follow the evidence, irrespective of how uncomfortable that might mean towards their beliefs.

Religion needs belief. Religion embraces belief. If the evidence tells you something that conflicts your beliefs, then in religion, the belief wins. It must win, because that’s the way religion preserves itself, often passing down the generations. Religious adherents follow the belief, irrespective of whether evidence exists to support those beliefs or even if if it refutes those beliefs completely.

If you are a scientist, and the evidence starts to conflict with your beliefs, but you hold fast to those beliefs despite strong evidence to the contrary, you are no longer practicing science. You are practicing religion.

If you are a religious adherent, and the evidence starts to conflict with your beliefs, so you change your beliefs to come in line with the evidence, you are no longer practicing religion. You are practicing science.

There is a difference between Science and Religion and this difference is unreconcilable. A wide, yawning, unbridgeable gap. You either accept that evidence has primacy, or that belief does. You can’t have both. Efforts to reconcile the two are unlikely to be very productive.

There is a difference between Science and Religion, but perhaps the issue is somewhat moot. The real question is what difference this makes to most of us. The problem is our brains, you see. Our brains have an interesting relationship with ideas, both scientific and religious. In our brains these things tend to get mashed together, confused with each other. Our brains can accommodate conflicting ideas. While science and religion are different, when it comes to scientific people and religious people, the distinction is far more blurry.

Most people don’t think about religion or science all the time. Most people spend their time thinking about other things. Whether they left the heating on, the pain in their foot, the hallway that needs a paint job, the local team losing last Saturday. Most people have friends to talk to, families to care for, work to do. Muslim, atheist, Christian, secular, Buddhist: when it comes to life and everyday concerns, we become less different. We become more human. The gulf can be traversed. It’s no longer black and white. It’s complicated.

There is a difference between Science and Religion, but our humanity keeps getting in the way. 

Years ago, when I was religious, I found it difficult to imagine how I could cope with adversity if I didn’t have a strong belief in God. I felt that my religious faith was the key ingredient that helped me through in times of trouble. A quick prayer and the feeling that I was being looked over by a loving deity gave me great comfort.

I’m sure many religious people believe that it’s all very well for atheists to hold their views in good times, but just wait until bad times hit. There are no atheists in foxholes, as they say. The reality, however, is that most of us can get through quite terrible setbacks without relapsing into religious belief.

I’ve had a few big setbacks since I lost my religion all those years ago. Some of them have been pretty tough. I had plenty of dark times as I negotiated my way through them. But not once did I have recourse to prayer. No matter how bad things got, I never felt like trying to rekindle my religious beliefs. Honestly, I would have immediately thought it pointless and silly. It simply wasn’t an option.

But nevertheless, I got through these times and lived to fight another day. So how did I manage? Looking back, here are a few pointers.

I tried to be kind to myself. Bad things usually happen, not because you’re a bad person or that you need to be punished, but because such is life. People get old, or find themselves in the wrong places, or make mistakes they couldn’t possibly have foreseen at the time. Realising this made me feel less angry with myself. Guilt was one burden I didn’t have to bear.

I gave myself time. I tried not to expect that all the bad thoughts would go away permanently just by thinking a certain way, or doing something transient. The feelings come back no matter what you do. Realising this helped to reduce the urgency of needing to have solutions for everything. Some things in life don’t have easy answers. As they say, if you can’t overcome it, you can often outlive it.

I tried to live in the present. Realising that bad feelings pass, given enough time, allowed me to better allow the worst issues to roll over me. You roll with the waves.

I tried to acknowledge the pain and feelings I was experiencing. They were real to me, why fight hard against them? If I felt like crying, I would cry. If I didn’t feel like doing something, I left it go until I felt a bit better about it. You have good days and bad days. It’s not about surrendering, as much it is about giving yourself some time.

I tried to get on with life, getting back to the things I liked doing and to the work routine I was used to. It was difficult at times, but it allowed my mind to think about other things. I feel that brooding about the past too much is the mental equivalent of scratching a scab. It can prolong the pain and I’m not sure if that’s particularly healthy.

I sought out and appreciated the company of friends and family members. Just talking about things and the kindness they showed helped me so much. I appreciate that this is not something everyone can do, but it helped me. Even pets can be such great companions. They don’t think much about the future and they get on just fine. Maybe, during these times, neither should we.

I sought out professional help. A chat with a doctor or a counsellor helped me through the more difficult periods. Assistance like this has a big place in overcoming the most painful feelings.

Would my experience have been shorter or less painful had I kept my religious faith? It’s difficult to know, but I suspect there is little difference. There was no sense of help from a loving god as I went through it, but neither were there any feelings of despair or guilt that the same god wasn’t bothering to help.

Religious believers often thank their god for getting them through the dark times. But I think they are missing something. The truth might be that their success is only theirs to celebrate.

Here’s what most people think critical thinking is. You take on a position, then you develop arguments as to why this viewpoint is the correct one. It’s the stuff of debate, polemics, law and politics. We admire people who can present strong arguments, then defend their positions under withering pressure. Sometimes we elect such supremos to powerful positions. It’s a handy skill, not to be dismissed, often to be admired. But I’ll tell you one thing it isn’t: it’s not critical thinking.

Real critical thinking takes a bit more work.

To be truly critical about a viewpoint, first you need to figure out if it’s wrong. That’s not an easy thing to do, because it goes against our innate mental biases. Our brains are naturally predisposed to taking on positions then finding support for such positions. What critical thinking asks of us is to challenge this mental process head on; finding evidence that suggests it’s not true, or not valid under certain circumstances. From this a more complicated picture can be drawn.

A critical thinker needs to spend time to understand if their position is based on valid or fallacious logic. If you are basing your position on the mere fact that everyone else accepts it, that’s not a great starting point. Neither is it much help if it originates from an emotional feeling or a desire for something to be true rather than bothering to establish if it is true in the first place. There are a ton of pitfalls – logical fallacies – that can trap the unwary thinker.

Or maybe the sources themselves are invalid. A peer-reviewed scientific paper may hold more water than the flatulent utterances of a Daily Mail headline, but even this might require consideration if it’s rowing against other research on the same topic. Many newspapers and websites promote strong political, cultural or religious viewpoints. There may be vested interests involved, whose job it is to muddy the debate. It can be a minefield trying to winnow the grammes of wheat from the tonnes of chaff.

If you do put in the ground work to validate and perhaps adjust the stance you have taken, it’s then when argumentation and debate has a role to play. But even then, you have to be willing to accept that, even at this late stage, you might be wrong. There may be evidence out there that you failed to consider. You need to be open to this possibility.

Going through this process of formulating hypotheses and testing is one of the most valuable skills an education can give us. It’s the basis behind most forms of professional and scientific inquiry and it’s fast becoming a useful tool of business and management. So why aren’t our kids learning more about it in school? Why aren’t they getting any chances to practice it?

So many subjects are presented as just-so facts. The desire to complete the curriculum as expeditiously as possible trumps everything else. Where discussion is permitted, there is little effort to evaluate positions on their merits or to examine our biases and the many flaws of argumentation. Debates are little more than exercises in one-upmanship – opportunities to talk across each other while playing to the audience. Being wrong is something to be avoided at all costs. Our education system is miles from where it needs to be.

We have to find ways to break this cycle. We need to give curiosity, exploration and inwardly directed criticism greater prominence in our educational system. We need to elevate hypothesis formulation, testing and investigatory work, allowing kids to make mistakes as they try to figure out what is right and what is wrong. Instead of telling them the answers, give them the tools to find the answers for themselves.

A real critical thinker has to shroud themselves in doubt, and it’s from doubt that real critical thinkers are born. Our education system has become too enamoured with certainty to give this much consideration. We need to find ways to change this.

Confirmation bias has to be one of the most pervasive – and shittiest – aspects of human nature. By definition, it’s our natural tendency to only search for information that conforms to our preconceptions. In other words, we are naturally disposed to seeing only what we want to see.

And it’s all around us. You don’t like someone? You’ll only see their bad points. You had a bad meal in a restaurant? The service will be bad too, and they left a stain on the tablecloth. The wrong party got into power? Look at the mess they created.

If you have a vested interest in anything it’s likely that the gales of confirmation bias will roar around you. If you’re selling or promoting something it’s likely you’ll jump with delight on information that could promote your business. You’ll jump with annoyance, though, on any statement to the contrary. The same goes for fossil fuels, quack autism cures, homeopathy, fortune telling, you name it.

I want to take the German refugee crisis as an example, because I’m currently stuck in a debate about it. Because of the devastation of Syria and Iraq, tens of thousands of refugees are arriving in Germany each week. A million people could come there in the coming months. This is undoubtedly going to put stress on everything: schools, housing, hospitals, social services and policing. It wouldn’t matter where the people came from or what their religion was: a million people arriving from anywhere would pose big problems to residents.

Many locals are less than happy. Listening to them I get the impression that the refugees are the worst people imaginable. A lot of the arguments hinge around stories of criminality or personal affronts. Sheep getting stolen, youths going to the toilet on doorsteps, local women being insulted as whores, that kind of thing. Terrible stuff indeed.

But here are a couple of things that make me pause.

First, are all the stories true? When hearing stories that we badly want to hear, our critical faculties often disappear. The statement itself is proof enough. Because it conforms with what we already believe, why be sceptical about it?

Second, what about the disconfirming stories? The stories of immigrants or refugees doing nothing of the sort? Of minding their own business? Of doing something nice for other people? You won’t hear many of these because nobody wants to talk about them. Nobody likes a good story ruined.

Third, in what way does a story like this extrapolate out to the wider community? You will find criminality everywhere and desperation may provoke additional anti-social behaviour amongst some people. Even still, lots of stories like this are unlikely to be indicative of a mass movement of people, hell-bent on exploiting their hosts.

Fourth, because these people are escaping a bad situation, doesn’t necessarily mean that the badness is coming with them. If they loved the awfulness of ISIS and government terrorism so much, then why are they leaving in such numbers?

Now, it’s quite possible that it’s me who is biased, that it’s me who is giving the refugees far too much credit and that I am not considering the genuine problems of local residents. Maybe I’ve become too leftie for my own good and it’s addled my brain. It could be. After all, I’m just as susceptible to confirmation bias as anyone else. However my experience is that most people are basically decent. They are more interested in washing machines and putting food on the table than they are about forcing others to conform to their way of thinking. Kids tend to behave like kids everywhere and while it’s more complicated with adults, it’s the complications that make it such a muddy picture. There are good people and bad people and every shade in between. If we ignore all this variety in order to adopt a convenient fantasy that they are all the same, we take steps down some very, very dark pathways. Perhaps that’s just wishy, washy, liberal me talking.

Hey mum. It’s me, Marty. I’m back from 2015.

Yeah, it’s nice. Not at all what I expected though. No flying skateboards. No hover cars. Not even a new version of the space shuttle. Lots of people still wearing jeans and t-shirts. I mean, they had 30 years, but no polyester jump suits to be seen except, hmm, hold on – cyclists. You have regular people and then you have cyclists. Now *they* look like proper future people. They wear tights and on top of their head is a replica of that face-sucker thing in Alien. These people thought (think, will think, may think – time travel tenses really need to get sorted out) that this is a fashion statement:

Tinkoff Saxo cycling team

Tinkoff Saxo by Morebyless cc licensed.

It’s not even fashionable here in 1985. And that’s saying something.

Also, their phones. Ye gods. There’s not a phone box to be seen anywhere. Instead they all have these portable phones that fit in their pockets. Well, to call them “phones” is being generous, because I rarely saw (will see, may see) them being used to call anyone. A better name for them would be “tickle devices”. People spend their days pawing them, jabbing them, swiping the them and thumbing them for goodness knows what reason. I think it might be a sexual thing. And possibly something to do with cats.

Tickle, tickle.

Swipe, by Jeremy Keith. cc licensed.

They use these tickle devices to “google” things. You see, in the future, whole armies of people will be employed to answer questions. You type in a question and someone reads it, opens up an encyclopaedia and gives them a list of possible answers to the question. The researchers at the other end are a bit thick though, because most of the answers they give are wrong. I don’t think they are getting paid enough. My heart goes out to all those people whose job it is to give directions to drivers. I mean, it must be a hell of a boring job just calling people up to tell them they need to turn right at the next roundabout.

Can't you see we're eating?

And it’s all about coffee these days (those days, those will be the days). Maxwell House or Nescafe instant granules is not good enough for these people. You can’t even ask for a coffee at these places. You say to them “can I have a coffee” and they just look at you as if you’re stupid. There’s a whole vocabulary now. It has to be an Americano (black coffee) or a Latte (coffee with milk) or a Frappuccino (yep, people in 2015 will pay to drink cold coffee). The same goes for chocolate and tea and milk and bread and breakfast cereals. And it’s low fat and gluten free and l. casei immunitas. To go shopping in the future, you need a masters degree in nutrition, otherwise you’ll probably starve to death.

So I’m glad to say the world hasn’t (isn’t going to have, may not have) ended in nuclear holocaust and that most people seem pretty normal, if it’s all a bit West Coast and healthy and sporty and image conscious. The future is to be welcomed, even if we’ll all need to take the scenic route to get there. But the cycling outfits. Man, that’s going to take some getting used to.


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