Otohelminthiasis—Introduction: That Damn’d Ole Opry

I’ve been MIA here at POM over the last couple of months due to an unusually heavy schedule of business travel.  A couple of Saturdays back, on the final day of my last trip, I woke up feeling great.  I had slept well (rare for me in a hotel), the constant rain of the previous few days had let up and the sky was bright blue.  Above all, once I completed my morning commitment, I would be on my way home.  I was walking on sunshine …

I ran down to the car to fetch my dress shoes.  It was a short walk from my room, down the elevator, through the lobby, and over to my car in the parking lot.  By the time I got to my car, I was in a blue funk.  “Dear Lord!” I thought, “What just happened?”

I paused for a moment to analyze this sudden emotional turn.  Soon enough I determined the reason: the clue was the echo in my mind’s ear of the song that has been playing in the lobby. 

Ah, but I left something out.  My final stop was in Nashville, Tennessee.  The Marriott wasn’t playing any old elevator music.  It was full-on contemporary country music.  Which I don’t listen to, personally.  I enjoy some of the old Western music: Hank Williams, Sr., Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys, and such.  But anything coming out of Nashville today is crap to my ears.

So, I didn’t know or recognize the song that was playing in the lobby during the twenty seconds it took me to pass from the elevator to the front door.  I couldn’t tell you the artist or the title, I couldn’t recite a single bit of the lyrics or hum one snatch of the tune.  I can say with certainty that I never heard it before, and so it couldn’t be pushing any buttons of nostalgia in me, like certain songs might do.

But there it was.  My brief exposure to this song turned a great mood into a depressed one like a switch had flipped in my soul.

Perhaps I should mention more about my personal habits.  I refuse to live my life with a soundtrack.  I own no iPod. I do not turn on the car radio by reflex.   In hotel rooms, I never flip on the television.  I don’t listen to music on my phone.  I enjoy silence, and in hotels I reinforce it by wearing earplugs while I sleep.

In auditory terms, then, on that Saturday morning, it was like I had been fasting.  You know how it is when people get tested for food allergies? They have a very restricted diet for a while before the potential allergen is introduced to monitor the reaction.  Well, that’s how my mind was before I heard that enervating song.  I was in a state of aural fasting, and so the allergic reaction was strong and distinct.

Curiously, once I had identified the culprit behind my precipitous funk, it soon lifted.  Bringing the matter to my conscious mind gave me a sense of control, perhaps.  I was soon enough walking on sunshine again.  But I wondered … What if I hadn’t realized what the song did to me?  How long then would the effects have lasted? And if I were a “music all the time” kind of person (like so people many these days), and it had been just one more song among many that I had listened that morning, would I have been able to pick out that one baleful melody as the problem? And also … What if I voluntarily exposed my mind to that song and others like it, day in and day out, as some do?  Would I build up an “immunity” to its effects on me?  Or would it cause a chronic, low-level dysthymia?

I had to pass through that Nashville hotel lobby twice more before checking out.  Different songs were playing by then, and I noticed no emotional effects from them.  But given the amount of “music” we have piped at us everywhere we go, it got me thinking … what is all this structured sound doing to us?

Of Echoes and Earworms

I can’t tell you anything more about the song that affected me so deeply except that it was sung by a throaty female belting out an up-tempo “somebody-done-somebody-wrong” song.  Whether her complaint was a straying beau or a rusting pickup truck, I didn’t catch.  As I said above, the only thing that snagged on my soul was some echo—not quite an earworm, but not entirely different, either (more on echoes later).
This experience started me looking into the related phenomenon of earworms.  We have all had times when a snatch of song kept playing over and over again in our mind’s ear.  Sometimes it is enjoyable, but mostly it is as annoying as hell.  Different people catch different tunes as their own personal earworms.  But according to published research, there are certain commonalities among earwormy tunes:

  • relatively quick tempo
  • interval leaps that are unusual for their size (as in “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”) or for being out-of-the-ordinary melodically (as when Tony sings Maria’s name in West Side Story)
  • an above-average number of repeated notes (as in Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”)
  • certain rise-and-fall contours in the melody (as in the Alphabet Song, where the first phrase rises and the second phrase falls)
  • series of longer notes separated by short intervals (as in the stepwise melody of ABBA’s “Waterloo”)
  • repetitive or distinctive rhythmic pattern (Queen’s “We Will Rock You”)

In my own experience, a few other factors come into play:

  • lyrics that tease at one’s comprehension with indistinct enunciation or nonsense syllables (“Bad Romance” again)
  • lyrics that tax the memory with an above-average number of verses (as in Don McLean’s “American Pie” or Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”)
  • deviations from the established rhythmic patterns of the song (“I’ll Know” from Guys and Dolls)

Or to express the matter more metaphorically, earwormy songs contain some sort of “gristle” that the mind must keep chewing on in order to digest … or some kind of riddle to resolve—melodically, harmonically, rhythmically, or verbally.  In fact, some studies suggest that the best aural anthelminthic (worm-killer) is to work a moderately challenging puzzle of some sort: Sudoku, crossword, anagram, or such.  I find that looking up the lyrics helps whenever my brain is poking around for the words like a tongue exploring the gap of a lost tooth.

(Someone somewhere told me that the fastest cure for an earworm is to think of Chuck Mangione’s “Feels So Good,” which in fact works for me.  But for others, that song is itself a potential earworm.  I rarely find instrumental-only pieces to be earwormy, although recently I came down with a mostly pleasant infestation of Henry Mancini’s “A Shot in the Dark”.  I don’t recall ever having an earworm from a song in a foreign language that I have not studied, but I have had earworms from songs in languages in which I have some facility.)

One study found the following pop songs to be the most common earworms (in order):

“Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga
“Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” by Kylie Minogue
“Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey
“Somebody That I Used To Know” by Gotye
“Moves Like Jagger” by Maroon 5
“California Gurls” by Katy Perry
“Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen
“Alejandro” by Lady Gaga
“Poker Face” by Lady Gaga

Other research (for a Heinz advertising campaign!) out of Great Britain produced a somewhat different list, based on a quasi-mathematical formula of which tunes should cause otohelminthiasis (my coinage for “earworm disease”):

“We Will Rock You” by Queen
“Happy” by Pharrell Williams
“We Are The Champions” by Queen
“I”m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers
“YMCA” by The Village People
“Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen
“The Final Countdown” by Europe
“Livin” On A Prayer” by Bon Jovi
“Jingle Bells” by James Pierpoint
“Who Let The Dogs Out?” by Baha Men
“Gangnam Style” by Psy
“Never Gonna Give You Up” by Rick Astley
“Don”t Stop Believin” by Journey
“Uptown Funk” by Mark Ronson
“Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift
“Beat It” by Michael Jackson
“Ruby” by Kaiser Chiefs
“The Time Warp” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show
“All About That Bass” by Meghan Trainor
“Karma Chameleon” by Culture Club

If you have been a regular reader of Mark Tokarski’s work here at Piece of Mindful, your ears just perked up, I think.  On these lists you will recognize a number of recording artists who, for independent reasons, are suspected of being projects of Intelligence, promoted far above their actual talent grade to an artificial level of popularity.  In a future installment, I will try to add another name to that list.

What I hope to offer with this multi-part essay is some insight into what the promoters try to accomplish by putting these particular artists forward in popular culture.  But first, a more philosophical look at earworms and echoes …

The Pythagorean Theory

Earlier, I called my depressing stimulus at the Nashville hotel an “echo.”  I have had prior experiences like that.  In fact, I have one every year—when I attend the annual performance of a composition of what some would call “modal music.”  The effect, however, is the opposite of the Nashville echo.  Although only a small part of the composition is in the Hypolydian mode (or something akin to it), that portion is the high point of the piece.  For the rest of the evening—and even as I sleep—that scale and its shimmering overtones linger in memory in a beautiful and calming way.  If, that is, the soloist manages well the microtonal adjustments between the Hypolydian mode and the Western major scale.  If not, an echo still remains, but it is an irritating one.  What persists, for good or bad, is not a snatch of melody, not any single phrase or verse, but simply the harmonic gestalt.  What persists is not an earworm in the familiar sense, but an resonating echo, which word I use with a nod to the ancient Greek word for a musical mode, ἦχος, from which we get our word “echo.”

What I experienced, the ancient Greeks long ago knew —that different musical modes produce different effects on the psyche.  (When I use the word “mode” I mean not only the scale of notes, but also a traditional set melodic formulae, harmonizations, and cadences that go with each of those scales.)  The philosopher Pythagoras had a rather elaborate conception of the psychological influence of the modes, based on his core belief that numbers were the basic building blocks and mathematics the basic laws of the universe.  Pythagoras’ musical scales were constructed with great attention to the precise proportionalities for each note of the scale.  It is thought that his speculations about harmonics were part and parcel of his larger theory of celestial mechanics and the “music of the spheres” that vibrates throughout the cosmos.

But man is a microcosm, the ancient Greeks believed, and what was true of the ever-ascending spheres above us was also true of the ever-descending spheres within us.  Therefore, Pythagoras used melodies as medicine. The perfect proportions of a well-tuned scale had the power to correct imbalances of mind and body, he thought.  His biographer, Iamblichus, tells the famous story of how Pythagoras musically prevented a murder:

“Among the deeds of Pythagoras likewise, it is said, that once through the spondaic song of a piper, he extinguished the rage of a Tauromenian lad, who had been feasting by night, and intended to burn the vestibule of his mistress, in consequence of seeing her coming from the house of his rival.   For the lad was inflamed and excited [to this rash attempt] by a Phrygian song; which however Pythagoras most rapidly suppressed.

But Pythagoras as he was astronomizing, happened to meet with the Phrygian piper at an unseasonable time of night, and persuaded him to change his Phrygian for a spondaic song; through which the fury of the lad being immediately repressed, he returned home in an orderly manner, though a little before this, he could not be in the least restrained, nor would in short, bear any admonition; and even stupidly insulted Pythagoras.”

William Congreve aptly wrote: “Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.”  One need not buy into Pythagoras’ philosophy to appreciate his insight into the immense effect of music on the psyche.  Many modern studies have documented its healing power. But there is another side to that coin which modern psychologists seem not to study. If one kind of music has the power to calm and heal, another kind should have the power to inflame and disquiet, as Pythagoras observed.  If melody of one sort has the potential to liberate the mind from its passions, melody of another sort should have the potential to enervate and enslave the mind to bad habits, base desires, and harmful cravings … and perhaps even to complacency, compliance, and conformity.

* * *

 Submitted for your approval … a musician recognizes the psychological power of certain musical modes, and goes on to discover the formula for creating earworms.  Give this musician an agenda and a platform for exposing large audiences to his works, and you have an artist with the ability to mold the minds of a generation in a subtle, perhaps unconscious, but potentially devastating way.

Twilight Zone episode?  Nope: reality.  “Nicolas Slonimsky, a composer and musicologist, was deliberately inventing musical forms or phrases that could hook the mind and force it to mimicry and repetition, as early as the 1920s.” (Per Oliver Sacks in Musicophilia, p. 42)  Slonimsky’s magnum opus was the Thesaurus of Musical Scales and Melodic Patterns.  If you ever wondered why the blues of John Coltrane were so, well, blues-inducing, it was because he studied Slonimsky’s text like it was the lost fifth Gospel.  Slonimksy’s textbook is data without explanation: presumably there is some oral Mishnah available to decode the written Torah of his Thesaurus.

What’s that, dear reader?  Not buying it—this idea that human beings can be subtly manipulated by exposure to certain scales and harmonies–that it’s not just the lyrics that have a corrosive effect psychologically, but even the tunes themselves?

Let me ask then … about all that Christmas music you’ve been hearing in the stores since Halloween. Why do stores do that to us and to their employees?  Because it has been proven to get us to spend more moneyWhy do stores pay each month for a music service to pipe in that bland instrumental pop-music shite?  Because it makes us spend more time in the store, and more time equates to more purchases.  It’s a mere step—or maybe just a half-step—from recognizing that effect to seeing the subtle but pervasive influence of the great ocean of music that we are all awash in everywhere all the time.  In the next installment, I hope to analyze some of the mechanics of the musical prison that encloses our society, bringing together disparate conspiracy theories (of musicians themselves, turns out).

Until then … Dave Barry used to say that the best way to get rid of an earworm was to give it to someone else.  In that spirit, please give ear to the following song which has been plaguing my soul for the last two weeks. Review the commonalities of earworms listed above and then listen a couple of times to how Bobby Darin practically weaponizes a forgettable little ditty from a no-account Broadway musical.  Enjoy!

And Merry Christmas to all them what observes the day!


28 thoughts on “Otohelminthiasis—Introduction: That Damn’d Ole Opry

  1. All righty then … just got back from grocery store with my wife and yes, “artificial flowers” was and is going through my head. Curses on you, Maarten!

    Do not, repeat, do not think about this:

    “Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear
    And it shows them pearly white
    Just a jackknife has old MacHeath, babe
    And he keeps it, ah, out of sight”


    1. OK, I feel a little bad about that. But true to Dave Barry’s promise, I have been delivered from the curse of “Artificial Flowers.”

      Here’s some earbleach more appropriate for the season. Merry Christmas, Mark and all!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. What an interesting post! I am very aware of the “music” out there! I crave silence and wear ear plugs at night, too. A few years ago after racial unrest in some town (forget the particulars) that had been blown up (maybe it was even a False flag op) , in the media, ect. I was shopping in a Kohls store and the music that was blasting throughout the store was something about setting the world on fire..a kind of rap song. It was loud and the lyrics were inflammatory and aggressive. I went home and message the president of Kohls on his FB and asked him to look into the matter. I never hear from him but …this made me VERY aware of the matrix that they put out ALL over! Great article and I look forward to more!


  3. I’m sure it’s no accident. Taking something like the Beatles project: putting all that energy and perverse creativity into the whole mythology and narrative, I can’t see them just knocking off any old songs to feed to us. The lyrics, melodies, the whole production, must surely be to some (dark) purpose.

    A great post!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I offer as a guess of the culprit, a song by Little Big Town, “Better Man”, that lady’s voice and style of singing… this song brings anxiety and despair to myself. Advice: Try to avoid it as hell.


  5. Here is a song with a riveting fuzz guitar riff in the middle, about which Beavis said to Butthead “Why don’t they just do the good parts and skip the rest?” It’s called Creep, by Radiohead, and it is one of many reasons I turned off lyric-based music in total and turned to the classics. Imagine a high school kid short on confidence and not sure of his identity listening to this twenty times a week.

    When you were here before
    Couldn’t look you in the eye
    You’re just like an angel
    Your skin makes me cry
    You float like a feather
    In a beautiful world
    And I wish I was special
    You’re so fuckin’ special

    But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo.
    What the hell am I doing here?
    I don’t belong here.


  6. Thought provoking post, Maarten, thanks. Music is really magic at work, although that may sound pretentious or cliché. I couldn’t count all the nights we danced away as teenagers, mostly inspired by the sounds of hippie era hits and presence of distorted lead guitar solos firing from the loudspeakers . I feel nostalgic about those days, honestly, and there are moments when I get electrified by the sound of a good ol’ riff. That brings back so many good memories.

    I admit, I never cared about the lyrics too much if the melody was “right” so it was quite shocking to actually think or learn about the meaning of some of them. Like in the case of Alan Parsons Project and their top spook song of all times, “Eye in the sky”, which always got me whistling the main line of the melody. Parsons’ really had a great feeling for producing the music. He got his experience in the Abbey Road studio while working for Beatles, Pink Floyd and many others. But the spook hymn is his crown jewel in many ways, it’s a melodic masterpiece with obnoxious lyrics describing what we may know/refer to as psychology of the masses:

    “I am the eye in the sky, looking at you
    I can read your mind
    I am the maker of rules, dealing with fools
    I can cheat you blind

    And I don’t need to see any more
    To know that
    I can read your mind

    (Looking at you)
    I can read your mind
    (Looking at you)
    I can read your mind
    (Looking at you)
    I can read your mind

    Don’t leave false illusion behind
    Don’t cry, I ain’t changing my mind
    So find another fool like before
    ‘Cause I ain’t gonna live anymore

    Some of the lies
    While all of the signs are deceiving…”

    Anyway, you were mentioning Pythagoras’ attempts to assign tones and relations between tones some celestial meaning. There were several ancient flutes found in Europe, the oldest being from Slovenia, which suggest even neanderthal man was aware of music. Moreover, the relations of tones show diatonic scale was apparently used to tune the instruments. Which than begs the question: how did they come up with the idea of diatonic tuning? It’s fascinating, as much as it’s fascinating to try playing different scales and feel them differently – some are inspiring and warm, others are annoying and cold. Just look at the example of cymatics and the visible patterns one single tone / frequency can manifest. The same applies to individual tones, that are “out of tune” with the nature, so some of them manifest as sharp, clear patterns while others are visibly blurred and distorted. I do believe that any experienced musician can manipulate the state of your feelings by choosing different harmonics and scales. It only depends to what depth one will be manipulated, but it will definitely happen if the sound can reach you.


    1. Since I’m a bit older than you Vexman, my first exposure to Alan Parsons was the I Robot album. The cover inlay read: “I Robot… The story of the rise of the machine and the decline of man, which paradoxically coincided with his discovery of the wheel… and a warning that his brief dominance of this planet will probably end because man tried to create robot in his own image.” The title of the final track, “Genesis Ch.1 v.32”, follows this theme by implying a continuation of the story of Creation, since the first chapter of Genesis only has 31 verses.

      The track “I Wouldn’t Want to be Like You” is 3:22 long.

      If I had a mind to
      I wouldn’t want to think like you
      And if I had time to
      I wouldn’t want to talk to you

      I don’t care
      What you do
      I wouldn’t want to be like you

      Following the theme of I-Robot, the song can be sung in the perspective of either the robot speaking to the human, or the human speaking to the robot. In 2017 the song was used in the final scene of the Netflix series Mindhunter. Mindhunter is set in 1977, the same year as the release of I Robot. The main character is based on FBI agent John E. Douglas. He was one of the first criminal profilers. Douglas examined crime scenes and created profiles of the perpetrators (serial killers), describing their habits and attempting to predict their next moves. Minority Report In the year 2054 A.D. crime is virtually eliminated from Washington D.C. thanks to an elite law enforcing squad “Precrime.” They use three gifted humans (called “Pre-Cogs”) with special powers to see into the future and predict crimes beforehand.

      Predictive programming?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Gee, what texts did they leave behind… even the titles alone are freaky, aren’t they? Majority of APP songs are credited to Parsons and his pal, Eric Woolfson. I really wonder which one of them was so inspired. What’s the most interesting to me is that they named the band as some sort of project. Considering the lyrics, they were a project band for sure.

        Can’t say I figured out what is going on with this predictive programming, but I don’t believe it’s about programming at all – by showing some perverted and immoral stuff ahead of time just because one is “in the know” about, doesn’t make those things acceptable. They’re still as repulsive as they can get. Showing something perverted in advance doesn’t make it any more acceptable, but maybe they’re achieving something by doing it. What is to program about fear and shock, anyway? Like I said, it seems too fantastic to me that anybody could influence my ability to notice and label perversion for what it is just by showing it in advance. Maybe it’s only about bragging as I think PTB feel very comfortable and confident about their fakery for ages already. This idea of programming would make any sense only after the introduction of TV and after it penetrated each individual household. But the fakery is already centuries old and it worked like a charm without any TV, radio or even newspapers, as literacy among commoners was close to 0%. TV and mass media makes all manipulation easier for sure, but doesn’t seem as a precondition for their trickery to work.


        1. O.K., we can drop the “predictive,” but the programming is undeniable. That’s why theaters hand out “programs,” and television “programming” exists. Hollywood has simply been a slow burn morality/family/society destruction project from the get-go. The programming is exactly what makes the perversion acceptable. So I disagree with you about that. Most people aren’t as intelligent or perceptive as you, Vexman. Take “I Love Lucy,” for example.

          One scholar suggests that the show struck such a powerful chord with viewers because of the way it, particularly its main character, “dramatized and personified cultural conflicts about gender, marriage, and commodification.” Rather than depicting a picture-perfect version of domesticity like so many other shows of the time, I Love Lucy’s version of domesticity was challenged by the woman of the house in her refusal to settle for the life of a housewife. The public not only accepted Lucy’s defiance, they celebrated it.

          Of course, I’m not advocating women being chained to a stove, barefoot and pregnant. But it’s clear to me that TPTB were using the power of television to program and direct society from the very start. And look at how we’ve devolved.


      2. **”Burning Man Unveils First Designs for “I, Robot” Themed 2018 Edition.” **

        Time to re-visit the Miles Mathis paper “Robert Anton Wilson: Spook Baby”…stay tuned for details.


  7. “Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.” – Hanlon’s Razor.

    I’ve caught several errors in Miles Mathis’s papers (and others) dealing with things that I know for an absolute fact are true, and Mathis is wrong. Mathis makes many assumptions in his work. I’m not saying that the shenanigans that we research and discuss are not occurring – I believe that many are, but people should be careful in seeing conspiracy and malevolence when actually there is none. The human mind is notorious for misinterpreting and jumping to conclusions, quite often incorrectly.


    “Many journalists have fallen for the conspiracy theory of government. I do assure you that they would produce more accurate work if they adhered to the cock-up theory.”


  8. Very thought-provoking. I am looking forward to seeing the rest. I intentionally avoided reading your list of ear-wormy songs to I could avoid having them dig their way into my brain.

    There is a lot of talk in conspiracy circles about the frequency to which music is tuned. Some say it’s balderdash. Curious to know your take on it, perhaps in a continuation post.

    I was just at the mall yesterday. Went into a store and the music was so loud I thought I was at a bar or something. Asked the salesperson if she could turn it down. There were only a couple other customers in the store. She apologized but said she couldn’t turn it down. It was “store policy” to have it at that level as set down by the regional manager. I guess some study showed that people buy more when the music is louder, but I just wanted to run away. Unfortunately my son saw some jeans there that he just had to try on…


    1. We were literally in the middle of nowhere, a ski hill in Switzerland last summer, waiting for a tram that was a half-hour away. The building was empty but the loud speakers were screaming loud music – not fun music by any means, but this throaty teen-age girl over emotive Taylor Swift type stuff. My ears were bleeding. Somewhere – perhaps an interview on Gnostic Media, I had recently heard that this was deliberate, that we are not allowed to escape lyric-based music. I’ll have to follow up on the interview.

      Liked by 1 person

    2. Josh, I’m not convinced that’s the real reason–“people buy more”–and that it’s just the rationale they use to explain away the unreasonable playing of obnoxiously loud and irritating “music”. I’ve left many a store or public place sooner than necessary because I found it so disturbing. I think it’s actually a tool used to keep the masses focused on the noise outside themselves and the subliminal messages in the lyrics; all the while encouraging impulse buying because the rational mind is being distracted and can’t say, “You don’t REALLY need that, do you?”. Or what about all the celebrity and world “news” media in every checkout aisle at the stores–we are forced to look at it if we want to buy anything. It’s subliminal propaganda and thought control, perhaps even some spell-casting at play, meant to keep the customers believing the lies of an artificial made-up world…and especially from hearing their own inner voices. In my less-aware days, I’d read and examine every cover–yes, even the celebrity rags. I try not to even look at them anymore, casting my eyes downward or past it all.


      1. I agree with you Carri. I recall Mathis mentioning how you never see anybody buying magazines at the supermarket. The strategic placement is no coincidence. They don’t care if you buy it, the cover accomplishes their goal. The same reason they put sugary, colorful cereal boxes at a child’s eye-level. Except, in that case, they KNOW your child will browbeat you into buying it.


        1. Oh yes, Kevin–the sugary cereals, along with the soda, chips, candy, bakery goods and alcohol prominently displayed, even in the entry aisle of Walmart and other stores. Walmart is the worst I’ve seen; they’ve even taken to having a large display of hard liquor near the checkouts now! Every trip to the store involves temptation and a battle of wills to NOT buy the stuff! Abstaining from alcohol and pastries is made much more difficult when it’s right there within easy reach whenever I need to go shopping. That’s why I’ve become a minimalist and limit shopping trips and purchases to only bare necessities, preferring the farmer’s markets and thrift stores for most of my purchases.

          Liked by 1 person

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