Received: from [104.168.111.165] (port=36560 helo=mainchristmasdeals.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cHe9i-0001Dn-Bf for lojban@lojban.org; Thu, 15 Dec 2016 14:05:42 -0800 Date: Thu, 15 Dec 2016 15:28:24 -0700 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Subject: SamsClub $50-gift by participating-in survey: 10158301 Message-ID: Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Mime-Version: 1 To: From: "Raquel Vaughn" X-Spam-Score: 2.9 (++) X-Spam_score: 2.9 X-Spam_score_int: 29 X-Spam_bar: ++ X-Spam-Report: Spam detection software, running on the system "stodi.digitalkingdom.org", has NOT identified this incoming email as spam. The original message has been attached to this so you can view it or label similar future email. If you have any questions, see the administrator of that system for details. Content preview: they are asucces Have a great holiday season SamcClub-Survey [...] Content analysis details: (2.9 points, 5.0 required) pts rule name description ---- ---------------------- -------------------------------------------------- 0.0 URIBL_BLOCKED ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE: The query to URIBL was blocked. See http://wiki.apache.org/spamassassin/DnsBlocklists#dnsbl-block for more information. [URIs: mainchristmasdeals.com] -0.0 SPF_PASS SPF: sender matches SPF record -0.0 SPF_HELO_PASS SPF: HELO matches SPF record 0.7 MIME_HTML_ONLY BODY: Message only has text/html MIME parts -1.9 BAYES_00 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 0 to 1% [score: 0.0000] 0.0 HTML_MESSAGE BODY: HTML included in message 1.9 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_E8_51_100 Razor2 gives engine 8 confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.5 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_51_100 Razor2 gives confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.9 RAZOR2_CHECK Listed in Razor2 (http://razor.sf.net/) 0.8 RDNS_NONE Delivered to internal network by a host with no rDNS they are asucces

Have a great holiday season

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Please take a moment and complete this-questionaire and you could-receive-$50

Enjouy at any location over the Holiday season and spread the joy.














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The basement was a meandering complex of rooms so lightless I may as well have explored them blindfolded. I descended the creaking stairs and stood at the bottom for a while, hoping my eyes would eventually adjust, but it was the kind of dark there was no adjusting to. I was also hoping Id get used to the smella strange, acrid stink like the supply closet in a chemistry classroombut no such luck. So I shuffled in, with my shirt collar pulled up over my nose and my hands held out in front of me, and hoped for the best. I tripped and nearly fell. Something made of glass went skidding away across the floor. The smell only seemed to get worse. I began to imagine things lurking in the dark ahead of me. Forget monsters and ghostswhat if there was another hole in the floor Theyd never find my body. Then I realized, in a minor stroke of genius, that by dialing up a menu screen on the cellphone I kept in my pocket (despite being ten miles from the nearest bar of reception), I could make a weak flashlight. I held it out, aiming the screen away from me. It barely penetrated the darkness, so I pointed it at the floor. Cracked flagstone and mouse turds. I aimed it to the side; a faint gleam reflected back. I took a step closer and swept my phone around. Out of the darkness emerged a wall of shelves lined with glass jars. They were all shapes and sizes, mottled with dust and filled with gelatinouslooking things suspended in cloudy fluid. I thought of the kitchen and the exploded jars of fruits and vegetables Id found there. Maybe the temperature was more stable down here, and thats why these had survived.


But then I got closer still, and looked a little harder, and realized they werent fruits and vegetables at all, but organs. Brains. Hearts. Lungs. Eyes. All pickled in some kind of homebrewed formaldehyde, which explained the terrific stench. I gagged and stumbled away from them into the dark, simultaneously grossed out and baffled. What kind of place was this Those jars were something you might expect to find in the basement of a flybynight medical school, not a house full of . If not for all the wonderful things Grandpa Portman had said about this place, I mightve wondered if Miss Peregrine had rescued the just to harvest their organs. When Id recovered a little, I looked up to see another gleam ahead of menot a reflection of my phone, but a weak glimmer of daylight. It had to be coming from the hole Id made. I soldiered on, breathing through my pulledup shirt and keeping away from the walls and any other ghastly surprises they mightve harbored. The gleam led me around a corner and into a small room with part of the ceiling caved in. Daylight streamed through the hole onto a mound of splintered floorboards and broken glass from which rose coils of silty dust, pieces of torn carpet plastered here and there like scraps of desiccated meat. Beneath the debris I could hear the scrabble of tiny feet, some rodentine darkdweller that had survived the implosion of its world. In the midst of it all lay the demolished trunk, photographs scattered around it like confetti. I picked my way through the wreckage, highstepping javelins of wood and planks studded with rusting nails. Kneeling, I began to salvage what I could from the pile. I felt like a rescue worker, plucking faces from the debris, brushing away glass and wood rot. And though part of me wanted to hurrythere was no telling if or when the rest of the floor might collapse on my headI couldnt stop myself from studying them.