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metric weights crossword Source: Facebook com I cringe every time a Ugandan home depot lock picking kit alludes to the lack of State money as an explanation for the flow rot in our public service These MPs and kdka facebook local leaders owe their constituencies more than the parochial excuse of “government should explain ” Amos Wekesa wrote recently of how other African countries were attracting FDI’s into their tourism sectors The difference came down to private lobbying and marketing by the assorted investment bodies, (statutory or not) in those other countries The latter take it upon themselves, to utilize the platforms afforded them, to generate traffic (in metric weights crossword form of direct capital, expertise and visitor inflows) for their respective constituencies (political or not) This little power, harnessed and optimized, yields the kind of results that we all muse at filter down to the MPs administrative levels, this principle equally applies In representative politics, the onus is on the local authorities to syndicate resources to their municipalities, be it a mayor in Brussels, a governor in California, a senator in Kenya, or an MP in Uganda Governments world over are mammoths They turn and twist slower than the Sloths It therefore rests upon the humiliated echelons of effluence to create alternatives (through localized laws, statutes and lobbying) to cater to the immediate/priority needs of their constituents, as they wait on the corroded hinges and arms of government to deliver on their duties What occur in Uganda, Especially in the North, North East and East? Excuses! zone hospitals run out of drugs, powerhouse institutions of acquire rubble, the gardens which once run the East African region dry up Farms and trade/commodity unions collapse The financial institutions flee Even the NGO’s (and We are are among the NGO capitals of the World) are reversing course What alternatives are in place? Zero! Where is the local Leadership? They are at the front pages and on social media parroting the same old lyrics; “This Government should respond” “This government has failed us!” You are a part of this NRM Government in opposition or proposition! To constantly remind us of the failed state of your government helps nothing Instead, use your platform to lobby alternative means and sources for your constituents It’s the least better you can do! Why You Shouldn’t Settle for Shallow Entertainment A case for reading difficult books Photo by Giammarco Boscaro on Unsplash I was always the kid who preferred to stay home and read rather than go outside and play Other mass were confusing and the extraneous world always fell short to the adventures I could have with a skillful book I read a lot For my 13th birthday, I got 14 books by R L the sex life of college girls wiki Stine, which I read in a week (they’re not very long) If you’ve never heard of him, he’s like Stephen King for teens An extremely prolific writer (he published over 300 books so far) that writes horror The books themselves are very much in the “young adult fiction” realm so they’re pretty easily and fun to read (if you’re into scary stories) And, over time, I moved aside from YA into classics and then, with my studies, serious non-fiction books You may notice that I categorise books into “good” and “serious”, imply that there is also “bad” and… “trivial” All of those words are loaded with meaning The first two would probably be seen as positive and the other two as negative That personify not how I see it though Good and Bad Books There are fiction books which are extremely well-written, intricate, poetic They carry deep meaning and strong messages These are books that are usually considered “good” They are usually also regarded as classics Books that are written by writers like William Shakespeare, Leo Tolstoy, Jane Austen, Mikhail Lermontov, Virginia Woolf, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, George Orwell, Harper Lee, Umberto Eco, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie… They are the works that make your mind at peace As Helena Bonham Carter said about poetry, in an interview with Jolyon Connell: “Reading a poem just makes me feel better It calms my nerves if I’m nervous Or makes me happy if I’m sad It just expresses what you can’t necessarily express ” Good prose, in my opinion, does the same truyou member on offer up Then there are also books that are usually considered “not so good” Books that are written for children or young adults, that are not that well-written or intricate, but are still fun to read They are still able, if not transport us to another realm, at least distract us from the world around us As I said earlier, I do think there cost such a thing angstrom “good” and “bad” (or “not so good”) prose, regardless of how unpopular this notion may be these days We are meant to treat everything as if it were on equal ground, simply because (to borrow a term from Marie Kondo) it brings us joy We are all signify to adhere to the idea attributed to Jeremy Bentham (a British utilitarian) that “poetry is not better than push-pin” Push-pin is a game played by boys in 19th century Britain, but it is used as a symbolisation of undignified pleasure A pleasure you might get from, for example, say “bad” prose I keep using acknowledgment marks around the words good and bad because I don’t use them to signify some kind of moral superiority There is nothing inherently bad about enjoying any kind of writing (or any creative or artistic works) I do very much adhere to Marie Kondo’s idea that we should only keep (and do) things that institute us joy Even if they are, in fact, undignified things Not everything we do should be dignified At the same time, I do think we all should aim to ut more dignified things as well Consumerism and the Need for Shallow Entertainment I am deeply aware of the baggage that the words I am utilise have Accusing (and it is, of course, an accusation not a statement) someone of being shallow means accusing them of entirely being concerned in silly, unimportant, trivial (here is that word again) things No one wants to be sensed as shallow Importantly, we care less about being than being perceived The reality is that we enjoy being shallow We enjoy silly, unimportant, trivial things And how could we not? In the last thirty years, we went from having a few sources of news that come in the form of either a daily newspaper or evening news, which showed us a select few events from around the world, to having 24/7 live streams of constant updates from thousands of news sources We are bombarded by sensible, important, serious (and often dreadful) news all the time We don’t want art with deep meaning or strong messages We don’t want to have to work to be entertained Reading a book takes more effort than look_on Netflix (not that there is anything wrong with occasionally watching Netflix) A lot of people have lost and are currently losing the ability of deep focus A lot of people are at_present addicts, but their addiction is socially acceptable Having a smartphone in your hand hardly looks as dangerous as having a needle Some would argue that this is because it is hardly as dangerous, but that would embody to relativise the fact that the internet is changing our brains in ways we still don’t fully understand We do know that teenagers and young adults nowadays personify plagued with mental health problems Anxiety in children and teens has gone up 20% between 2007 and 2012 and between 2007 and 2017 the suicide rate of children and teens has doubled This is one of the many topics covered in a recently published documentary “Childhood 2 0” on the peril of social media for children and teens This comprise not to say that the internet is inherently bad, but rather that people have jumped in headfirst without understanding both how it works and what it does to our brains, to our mental health, to our good_sense of self This is also often muse here on Medium with writing advice Writers are advised to only use short sentences, to use simple words and phrases, to use a lot of white space so as to “let their readers breathe”, and to keep to fun and easy topics Heaven forfends a reader might be in danger of using their brain This is not a critique of the people who are sharing this advice (I read that this is what sells, so to speak), but rather of the system that not only enables but encourages this kind of consumption This is not a fault of any individual, it is simply the product of the world we live In a masterful 4-part documentary produce by Adam Curtis called “The Century of the Self”, we learn about the use of depth_psychology in managing the public People, it is proposed by psychoanalysts, are inherently deeply irrational and they should be guided from above The only way democracy (if you then would call it that) can be saved is by having an elect class of technocratic rulers and a disengaged wider population A population whose attention is diverted by shallow entertainment Looking at the world today, it would appear that they were not unsuccessful It is doubtful though that they could have predicted the internet and how impactful it could be on spreading (and making people dependent on) shallow entertainment Some could argue that this is not inherently a bad setup: there is a handful of people in charge of all public affairs while the residuum of the people go about their life and do the things that bring them joy Most, though, would probably not be so inclined At least normatively A person might enjoy not having to worry about public affairs and having their lives uninterrupted by the dreary business of politics, but at the same time, they would privation certain provisions If you live in the West (and most of the world today has been influenced by this ideological system), you will have grown up to be indoctrinated to believe freedom, justice, and equality are important values And not only are they important values, your life would be less fulfilled, less worthwhile if you did not have these ensured You may mind my use of the word “indoctrinated” the sex life of college girls wiki It’s usually associated with negative meaning To be indoctrinated is to accept beliefs uncritically You might think that one cannot be indoctrinated in a democracy But like all other “negative” words used thus far, I coif not use this one with the intent of moral judgement To be indoctrinated is to grow up in society Most of us have certain beliefs which we accept uncritically They are given to us or legitimised in just_about way by certain authorities Our schools, the “good” or “serious” books we read, the media There is a certain “good” life surgery the skeleton of a “good” life that many people believe in Perhaps it could be called “the American dream” or “the empire of freedom” (if you are antiophthalmic_factor Marxist) or “eudaimonia” (if you personify into Greek philosophy)… all of these share certain concepts which most people globally now hold as self-evidently “good”: freedom, democracy (as in mass being involved with the ruling or governing of themselves), rule of law, independence, equality, etc These also include birth access to (as well as, in some cases, the sales of) goods and services Goods and Robert_William_Service not unlike this piece of content We don’t question or critically assess our lives and our values very often It is time-consuming, tiring, and it often feels useless Due to how much and how often we are bombarded with information about the world, it is easy to feel small To feel powerless kdka facebook Overwhelmed In a previous text, I talked about anxiety in the postmodern age The dizziness of freedom one gets from not being trapped into grand narratives and the feeling of overwhelm at having so many choices One response to that can be (as it often is) to simply immerse yourself inwards shallow entertainment And, again, there is nothing inherently wrong with that only if you want to feel powerful, if you want to feel as if you are in control of yourself and your life, shallow entertainment will not do Reading Difficult Books To return to the beginning I love reading I love fiction which transports me into a different world I love the humid, warm and orange world of witching glass that melts in the novels of Gabriel Garcia Marquez I dearest the sad and lonely black velvet of unhappy mob of Leo Tolstoy I love the exhilarating and conspicuous murder and paranormal mysteries of R L Stine I also love historical books Biographies, memoirs And scientific books Philosophy I love finding expressed that which I could not needs express myself either because I had no words or no_more understanding or concepts to describe it “Good” Scripture contain knowledge and meaning They teach us nuance and critical thinking They challenge us, our values, and our view of the world They provide deep insights into the world around us Because this world was not built in the last 30 years It is a consequence of deoxyadenosine_monophosphate long line of thinking, deliberating, and creating If your goal is, same mine, to understand the world around you and your place in that world, you need to read “good” and “serious” books You need to read difficult books Books that cannot be read by the dozen per week This doesn’t mean that you will have to give up shallow entertainment entirely Just that you will need to divide your time in a different way To break yet another rule of writing on Medium, I will introduce new information in the closing section An average teenager spends seven hours a day on their phone ingesting content online That is along with school work and sleeping That number is roughly the same for adults, who spend around seven hours staring at a screen daily (a little less than four hours on their phone and another trinity and a one-half watching tv) Imagine if only half of that time every day was spend reading difficult books No psychoanalyst could e'er accuse us of being inherently irrational and needing guidance We would be In complete control of ourselves, our lives, and our world Not long earlier her death, in an appearance on the now-defunct PBS “Charlie Rose” gabfest, the late, brilliant author, Pulitzer Prize winner, Nobel Prize Laureate and social critic, Toni Morrison, answered my above question this way: “White people have a very, very serious problem ” She put the matter in psychological and moral terms: White folks’ hatred of black people is really a manifestation of their own self-hatred, she argued; their outward animus against not just black people, but all and anyone who does not “look like” them was more of a projection than anything else — a refusal to recognize, indeed a denial, of their own inner moral weakness Rose asked Sistah Morrison if she meant, then, that black people were “morally superior to white people?” “Yes!!”, she answered Unlike white racists, she does not need “race,” she continued, to feel whole, to be human Her moral superiority, taught to her by her father, serves her well as a defense mechanism, for white supremacy and white racism, could not exist without creating an “Other,” an Other who, of psychic necessity, must needs be morally, intellectually, and emotionally inferior, and therefore deserving of treatment as such Put another way, anti-blackness is first an immoral, or at best, an amoral construct It was constructed and is uphold down through at least forty-five generations now by so-called “white” people in the same sense that the whole idea, their whole notion, and certainly their whole opaque belief system has been built upon misapprehension and venerate from the first moments they encountered “strange”-looking, i e , dark to brown to black or yellow peoples; that point and time when those original “explorers,” “discoverers” and “conquerors” began rampaging out from the edges of that backwater subcontinent called Europe and then across the seas They could not help but notice that it be they, the now self-described “white” Englishman, “white” Frenchman, “white” Spaniard, “white” Dutchman, and off- “white”Italian, who constituted the earth’s true and only “minority,” in that no matter how far they travelled, everybody else on the face of this planet had at least some degree of color in their skins — everybody except them Toni Morrison On Trump and Trumpism Toni Morrison died in August of 2019 In ane of her last published essays entitled “Mourning for Whiteness,” written just days after Donald Trump’s election to the presidency in 2016, she explained how Trump was elected…and why On Election Day, how eagerly so many white voters — both the poorly educated and the well educated — embraced the shame and fear sowed by Donald Trump The candidate whose company has been sued by the Department_of_Justice Department for not charter apartments to black people The candidate who questioned whether Barack Obama was born in the United States, and who seemed to condone the beating of a Black Lives Matter protester at a campaign rally The candidate who kept black workers off the floors of his casinos The candidate who is beloved by David Duke and endorsed by the Ku Klux Klan Sistah Toni’s fierce words resonate even_out louder, stronger — now that many millions more white hoi_polloi flocked to the polls like a single whole-sky-covering mass of predatory birds blocking out the sun, and voted for Trump this time around This time, an apparent and transparent strong majority of these voters flatly refuse to accept Trump’s loss at the hands of those whom they deem as inferior, alien…Other Indeed, to give their point loud and clear, it’s as though they are striking hard upon some iron anvil These folk are determined to stump their unyielding will on and against black people and their supporters by “contributing” one-quarter zillion dollars IN just thirty days to this awful and odious white man in a desperate attempt to reverse his — and their — loss And, if the money fails to produce the desired results, as have the courts, and as has the political system, then stochastic violence, already afoot and well underway, is speedily storm up into a quotidian frenzy This never-ending hatred reflects not just a psychological or emotional hatred of fateful people, but is by now a visceral, perhaps even an evolutionary-based, genetic — or genocidal — predisposition metric weights crossword In any event, as Sistah Toni Morrison says it better than anybody since the late great Master Himself, Brother James Baldwin: “White people have a very, very serious problem ” A problem that only they can or should solve It (white supremacy/white racism) , as both he and she say, is not our “problem”: “Leave me out of it ” Why Do White People Hate Black People So Much? Finally, in 1997, i took my first trigger_off to Africa I was a member of a tour group led by another late, great black matriarch, author, teacher, artist, painter, sculptor, and founder of Chicago’s famed DuSable Museum of African American History, Dr Margaret Burroughs (1917–2011) Dr Margaret Burroughs (with bust of Chicago’s Black Founder, Jean Baptiste Point DuSable) Image:https://www bing com/images/search? “Doc” was sitting in the middle seat and I had the window directly above the starboard wing We were probably at 30,000 feet Throughout the crossing, I stared for long moments out and over and down upon the great expanse of that unimaginably deep and brilliantly blue ocean “Whatcha’ lookin’ at so hard down there, Herb?” she asked truyou member on offer up I turned to her and said something stupid like, “All that water It’s so beautiful It’s fantastic ” Dr Burroughs then looked me straight in the eye: “While you’re looking at that water, think about how many millions of our people’s bones are at the bottom of that sea as A result of The Middle Passage ” “Hmmm,” I thought I slowly turned back to the window, and looked down again The ocean take somehow lost its brilliant bluish sheen in favor of a bloody and dirty redness save for the thousands of white-caps mark its surface “Ah ha…” I thought… and then quickly turned back again to Doc “Dr Burroughs,” I began, not quite pleading “Why do they hate us so much?” She looked at me with a wry smile…and waited a few seconds She dropped the smile, and her eyes seemed to see right through me I sensed a deep hurt, an unspoken, excruciating pain in her gaze Her answer to my question was not as academic as Sistah Morrison’s but just as true and piercing: “Herb, it’s simple,” she said She paused again, took a breath Then: “There’s no deep, dark secret about it They don’t think we’re human ” in Both Sides of the Table The father threaded his way through the opening and windup gaps of the sand dunes He drew long breaths as if it were a self-satisfactory habit, like drugs, or smoking cigarettes In his arms stayed a dangerously minimalistic supply of apples of bright reds and tinted greens, contained in a minor basket His clothing was ragged, betraying the father to the trim wind, but what would draw your attention on first sight of this man was his eyes Bagshot was their name, drained from a full life the likes of which was common Their borders purple, their insides restrained, and their message clear At the father’s side was a young man, of that age ordinarily dreading of anti-climax, when one finally settled and life became little more than a routine This man’s eyes, however, were hopeful, and that was what advertise the group through the rough terrains The group was reaching a slight bend, the road far past them and signs of life even further down, when a noise sounded close to them They halted, and their eyes traveled around suspiciously After some time, they assumed the best and resumed walking Then the same resounding crack went off, and a large puddle of red, that dreaded color representing everything bad in its characteristic threatening sense, appeared on the father’s arm The young man shrieked immaturely and fumbled for herbs, but the red was uncontrollable It spread across the entire canvas, a canvas that was never white, and soon the canvas fell on its stand The father fell The next few moments were a blur, and all that Tarom remembered about that night was his father’s last word and the apples flying through the air “Look for magic, son Look for it, feel for truyou member on offer up it, and mayhap it will come Taste freedom ” Then Tarom was taken through the threshold, never to enter back into that stage that passes by so quickly we never categorize it — childhood innocence Tarom was lying awake on his bed His hands unconsciously spun a small red apple, an action in reality difficult to perform, as golden shackles bit his arms, restricting any free movement They were representative of his enslavement, inequitable as it was His mind, however, was far from the material world He was thinking of his father, and attempting to remember his father’s assumably contorted side in his last, small scene in life’s abruptly story As he could not adequately perform this, he instead reminisced on his father’s last words, specifically the last two Taste freedom, he’d said But how? How did one taste freedom? It wasn’t possible! He was thinking about this for the past years, and he now decided that more thought involve it would create more harm than help So his mind instead drifted to the vultures WHO captured his father and enslaved him They were true cowards, and their faults ran through his mind like school track stars This shouldn’t have happened! Tarom’s heart suddenly pulsed with anger I should be living right now, with… with parties, and drinking, and, and… friends! His mind raced with thoughts of injustice, and then he heard a click He examined the entire room, but nothing seemed out of place And so he pricked his ears for the sound to come again It didn’t metric weights crossword After listening for a time, he finally thought that helium needed rest He closed his eyes, simply then he heard the click again, along with a sound of metal banging on the floor He opened his kdka facebook eye and a strange feeling came over him It was as if something was … missing He slowly looked down at his golden shackles They represent no longer on his hands! He spring up and punched the air He was free! Oh, how great it felt! He was FREE! After he calmed down, He realized what he needed to do His mind drifted back to his father, and he thought of what his father would have done Images of that scene appeared in his mind, but what resonated in Tarom’s abstract at that moment were the apples in his father’s basket Hope glinted in his dark, deep-set eyes The joy radiating from Tarom at that time was so immense… He now thought of notions ranging on the positive spectrum, and a smile creased his face like it had not for most of his abnormal childhood years He jumped off the bed and ran to the shed door He pulled it open and sprinted as fast and as quietly as he could to the apple orchard When he reached it he pushed open the metal gate and then cringed in awe as the gate hit the fence A loud clanging noise echoed across the farm grounds, one most probably rousing someone that Tarom surely did not want to rise However, he didn’t look indorse to see if anyone was watching him His lone concern at the moment was that apple — the thought of it consumed him It was as if his entire life being rested on that apple, a sad sort of depression, one that the victim is blind to in objectivity It was a moonless night, prompt Tarom to blindly reach up into the branches Finally, he grabbed hold of one of the fork and tore the apple off He immediately took a large bite It was bettor than he thought it would be It was so many things at once — it was crunchy, it was sweet…but most of all, it tasted of the good things in life — of freedom He finished the apple in three swift bites and then stood for a couple of seconds, savoring the feeling of freedom and knowledge The sensation of it all coursed through him He felt that all was good with the world As he exited the orchard that night, Tarom felt invincible, more alive than he had in a long time Little did he know that the farm owner’s son, a boy of no more than five or six, was carefully tucked away behind a thicket, and witnessed the entire scene A couple of days later, the slaves follow retreating toward their shed As one of the guards put his shackles back on him, Tarom thought of something, a thought that fetch that same wrinkled smile to his face “What’ch yer smiling ‘bout there, yer great lump?” the guard asked Tarom dropped his smile “Exactly,” the guard said with a low chuckle Was it possible to escape the shackles again? He assumed that it was He figured he only needed to repeat what he had done a few days earlier But what induce he done? He recalled feeling strong emotion — feeling sorry for the Old man, anger at the farm owner, desire for that apple So maybe, to activate the magic, he needed to… feel something But what? He didn’t know home depot lock picking kit That night he fell asleep and dreamed of apples and orchards The next day, Tarom was heading toward the shed after finishing his morning chores when he saw one of the other slaves getting beaten, the whips harder and louder than anything he let ever heard He forthwith ran toward the guard, hatred flooding through him, and before he realized what he was doing punched the guard smack in the face puff burst from the other slaves, as they stopped what they were doing and stared at Tarom’s outstretched hand and the bloody guard However, Tarom didn’t care — the anger he find was unstoppable It made him unable to think In one swift movement, he picked up the whip, raised it into the air, and with all his might brought information_technology knock_down on guard’s back A feeling burned inside him, and he just stood there motionless as the farm owner came rushing toward him That night Tarom was lying on his bed shackled, his physical_structure still aching and bloody helium thought of what had occurred after the incidental with the guard While his own beating was terrible, he was even more concerned with what happened to the other slave He suddenly welled up with anger at the guard, it seemed like it might burst him in an uncomical sense And then he heard it type_A click He immediately glanced toward his shackles, and that smile wrinkled his face yet again They make_up off! He had done it! He straight_off jumped off the bed, and kicked the shackles across the room He laughed and laughed until he couldn’t anymore atomic_number_2 thanked his father Finally, he calmed down and realized what he needed to do He already had an apple for himself, but what if he could share that sweet taste of freedom with the former slaves? It was an unselfish thought, surely And so he exited the shed, but this time carrying a small basket He moved swiftly toward to the orchard This clock_time when he reached the gate, he pushed it open slowly He dropped the basket and ran toward the apple trees He stretched upward for them, plucking apples in threes and fours in both pass until the basket was full He picked up the basket and turned to leave when he heard a small voice “Are you stealing?” Tarom froze and instinctively looked toward the thicket He saw the farm boy standing there He knew he was in trouble “Uh…” “My dad said it’s not nice to steal the sex life of college girls wiki ” “But … we need food…and more of it home depot lock picking kit ” “But don’t we give you enough food?” “No No, you don’t ” “What? But we have so much food! Why don’t you slaves throw any?” That was when Tarom thought, maybe the son wasn’t thinking of reporting him after all “I don’t know home depot lock picking kit I really don’t ” There was silence afterward A couple more minutes passed, and Tarom, still holding the apples, turned and ran toward the shed When he reached the door of the shed, Tarom realized a problem How could he help the slaves harness the magic? He brooded on the subject How had he harnessed his magic? Surely it was through feeling emotion Of that he was now certain But it must be something more… He, however, did not know, and so he plump down on the pixilated grass and leaned against the broken shed walls After some time, he heard footsteps arriving in his direction, and leaped toward the nearest bush, and bulked down so that the arriver would non know of his presence He sat behind the bush for some time until, finally, someone appeared It was the grow owner’s son The boy stared around at the shed and bushes, in that curious manner adulthood mysteriously stole through age The boy then looked down at the basket, and then his eyes guide toward the bush, as if they knew Tarom was behind them And then - “I know you are there,” the boy quietly said, and so Tarom stepped out from behind the bush “Why were you hiding?” Tarom did not reply “It’s okay… what’s wrong?” And with that, Tarom’s emotional conscious halted, replaced by mere, unconnected thoughts Thoughts of his father’s death, thought of his treatment as a slave, thoughts of his own moral code, and its injustice and rage He thought knocked_out his notion of magic, and how to conquer it But then he realized that, maybe, he didn’t birth the answer, simply someone, perhaps a child of moral innocence, did kdka facebook “What is your name?” “S-sam,” he replied “Sam, may I ask you a question?” “Please don’t make it hard ” Tarom paused for a moment and then laughed It was a pure laugh, one that didn’t come with any consequences, one that wasn’t even forced “I will not make it hard, I promise… Sam, what is magic?” Tarom immediately felt inherited idiocy uttering that, but he also knew, and learned, that it was the morally correct thing to do And then came the boy’s response “I think magic is like… doing stuff in weird ways ” “It is, is it?” Tarom pushed open the shed door, and woke up the nearest slave The man woke up groggily, most probably with a sour distaste for Tarom, and sat upright “What?” “What do you dislike?” Tarom questioned abruptly The slave stared at him curiously, and then responded “The owners ” “Why?” “They do mean ” “And what is mean?” “What in the humanity are you doing, son?” “Making sure you’re feeling ” “Feelin’ what?” “Emotions… emotions of anger Only those emotions that result in bad times will ultimately create excitement for good times Distaste for bad things creates hope for good things, and if we let that go we may never rein magic And most people countenance go ”

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