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Date: Fri, 17 Sep 2021 19:00:34 -0400
From: "Vera Duncan" <vera-duncan@farmersagensbenefits.com>
To:   <lojban@lojban.org>
Subject: Perfectly Thaw Any Frozen Meats 60 Minutes Or Less
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 Content preview:  ** We know there's a lot going on right now. ** The Rapid
   Thaw tray gives you one less thing to worry about. Don't experiment with the
    microwave or call for takeout. The Rapid Thaw tray is designed to quickly
    thaw food on the kitchen counter withou [...] 
 
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** We know there's a lot going on right now.  **
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Rapid Thaw tray gives you one less thing to worry about.  Don't experiment with the microwave or call for takeout.  The Rapid Thaw tray is designed to quickly thaw food on the kitchen counter without heat, electricity, or hot water. 


 How it works!
-------------------------

The secret is in Rapid Thaw's specially designed tray.  It's made with highly conductive metal that transfers thermal energy into the food so it thaws twice as fast while preserving the quality and flavor. 


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589 Starlite, Idaho Falls, ID 834022307
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<!--It was the hardest decision I?ve ever had to make. To live with the tea=
sing for the next three years of high school or face my fears of being pano=
phobic.=20

My name is Allison; I?m fifteen years old, and this fall, I?ll start my sop=
homore year in high school. I?ve always thought I was a likable person. I g=
et along with my friends, and we?ve shared many memories at the Ice Cream S=
tation. That?s where we meet most days.=20
The Ice Cream Station is a malt shop with an arcade. Under their logo are t=
he words, ?Come on in and fill up,? and believe me, we?ve filled up there m=
any times. It?s a great place to hang out.=20
I was in the Station when my world came to a halt. My friends and I sat tal=
king about an old house sitting on Elm Street. It was deteriorating and had=
 been vacant for years; we all knew it as the Johnson?s house. The paint wa=
s peeling, and some of the windows were broken. Vines grew around the colum=
ns on the front porch sending out more feelers each day. As each year passe=
d, Mother Nature gnawed away at the structure, reclaiming what was once her=
s. I?d heard the old house was haunted, but I never went there. If I passed=
 it, I did so in a hurry.=20
I assumed looking at it would conjure up an evil spirit or ghost. I didn?t =
want anything like that following me home. At least that was my thinking.=
=20
As I said that day at the Station, my friends and I sat talking about the J=
ohnson?s home. Everyone was kidding and daring anyone to go inside. Everyon=
e refused. Then, for no reason, they all looked at me.=20
Since the first grade, my friends teased me about being scared. Yes, I?m in=
deed scared of, well, let?s face it, I?m afraid of everything. Doctors call=
ed the phobia panophobia. My friends never let me forget it and teased me a=
bout being a scaredy-cat. As I grew older, it started bothering me, and the=
 more it bothered me, the more they teased me. I didn?t like the harassment=
, and it was more of an annoyance than anything else. But, it was true. I?m=
 scared of everything. =20

It?s well known that I?m afraid of mice, bugs, spiders, and bees?especially=
 wasps. When one comes near me, I immediately go into fits. I start flingin=
g my hands and arms like someone doing an uncanny dance. I?m afraid of shad=
ows, driving, kitchen utensils, dogs, cats, and anything that goes bump in =
the night. To me, everything bumped in the night.=20
My friends tease me often, saying I?m afraid of my own shadow. I have to ad=
mit, that was one of the things that didn?t frighten me.=20

As I was saying, as we sat at the Station, my friends dared me to go inside=
 the Johnson?s house, knowing darn well, I?d never agree. What was I to do?=
 I was so tired of the teasing and knew it wouldn?t let up for the next thr=
ee years. I couldn?t help that I was so mistrustful about everything. Then =
again, I knew I would never go into that haunted house, none of us would.=
=20
They sat teasing me, saying the world would come to an end if I went near t=
he place, let alone set foot inside the house. I sat pondering the thought.=
=20
What a dilemma, I?m so scared of everything, and I could feel my heart raci=
ng as I thought about that old house. But I hated the teasing. My hands wer=
e sweating as I gasped for breath. My arms looked like pickles as goosebump=
s raced up and down them. If only I could muster up enough courage to go in=
side the house, the teasing would have to stop. It would be the bravest thi=
ng any of us ever did. I sat thinking about my predicament; I was in a quan=
dary.=20
?I?ll do it,? I said.=20
My friends stared at me as I repeated my statement. ?I?ll do it.?

They glared at the frightened little girl sitting at their table. I twisted=
 my black hair around my finger, trying to remove the sweat. I tried to hid=
e my anxiety. My stomach was churning, and I was sure the frozen treat I wa=
s eating would make its way back up. I swallowed, trying to keep it down.=
=20
?You?re going into the old Johnson?s house?? asked Jimmy.=20
?Sure,? I said. ?I?m not as scared as you think I am.? Everyone knew that w=
as a lie. My mind started spinning, thought after thought. What was I doing=
? I couldn?t believe what I was saying. Why couldn?t I keep my mouth shut? =
I would never go inside that old house, and I knew it.=20
?OK,? said Clara. ?We?ll meet in front of the house Friday night at a quart=
er till twelve. You go inside and up to the second floor. Shine a light out=
 the window, and we?ll know you are there. You do that, and I?ll never teas=
e you about being scared again.?

Ah, music to my ears. As my mind tried to process the consequences of going=
 into that house, I ignored them. I heard what I wanted to hear. My friends=
, who had teased me since first grade, all agreed. They would never tease m=
e again.=20
I left the Ice Cream Station. Then as if hit by a ton of bricks, reality se=
t in. What had I done? I hated the teasing about my condition, and I despis=
ed the thought of being tormented through high school. But going into the J=
ohnson?s house at midnight, oh please, just kill me now. What had I done?

Today was Thursday, and I decided to stroll by the old house against my bet=
ter judgment. Yet, I forced myself to do so. It was a sunny day, and I assu=
med ghosts and spirits only come out at night. The witching hour, which was=
 three o?clock in the morning, is when they are the most active. That?s wha=
t I heard on the television. I was hoping the ghost hunters were right.=20

I stood looking at the old house. I was sure it was beautiful at one time, =
but now it was a shell of what it once was. Old man Johnson died at the age=
 of forty-five; he didn?t leave the house to his wife. Instead, he donated =
it to the Baptist church. This upset his wife, and she begged the church to=
 give her the home, they refused. This created hard feeling between the chu=
rch and Alice Johnson, but the church would not give up the house.=20
There was a stipulation in Mr. Johnson?s will. Alice Johnson didn?t own the=
 property but controlled possession until she died. She couldn?t sell or re=
move anything from her home but could live there until she died?this infuri=
ated Alice. =20

Alice went home, packed a trunk, and went to the Philippines. As long as sh=
e was alive, no one could take possession of the house. The church had to w=
ait until she died, and Alice lived a long life.=20
The once beautiful home began to deteriorate. No one cared for the property=
, as Alice never allowed anyone on the premises. The home slipped into ruin=
 Forty-five years later, the property still sits waiting for Mrs. Johnson?=
s return. However, each day that passes takes a toll on the weatherboard st=
ructure. As the paint peeled, the unprotected wood gave way to rot and deca=
y.=20
The inside of the house was intact; Alice abandoned her belongings. She too=
k some of her clothes and left the home unlocked. The local authorities tri=
ed to keep the migrant workers out but failed. As the years passed, the old=
 house succumbed to a slow death. Dirt, dust, and filth overtook Alice?s be=
loved possessions. They, too, felt the effects of abandonment.=20
I walked up the drive. The drive had two concrete lanes for the tires, and =
I thought how different it looked. If I was going to enter the house at mid=
night, I needed to know something about it. I stepped up on the back porch.=
 The knob on the kitchen door would not turn; locked, I thought. I checked =
the window, and to my surprise, it slid up. I stepped into the kitchen.=20
I checked the door; it had a turn-key lock and an old version of a deadbolt=
 I unlocked both locks and opened the door. The hinges gave way to the pre=
ssure and made a soft squeaking noise.=20
The large windows allowed the sun to flood the rooms, lighting up the house=
 The bright light relieved my fears; it wasn?t scary at all. I walked thro=
ugh the kitchen, dining, and living rooms. At the front door was the stairc=
ase. I headed toward it.=20
My hands were sweating, and my heart was pounding. I was nervous, but littl=
e by little, my anxiety surrendered to a more peaceful feeling. The house w=
as old, lonely, and dusty. I didn?t feel anything dangerous or ghostlike. Y=
et, I?d never been in a situation like this, so how would I know?

I stood at the entranceway, studying the staircase. It was magnificent. To =
my left was a parlor decorated with sofas, chairs, lamps, and at one time, =
a beautiful area rug. Dust consumed it all now. I pulled the pocket doors s=
hut.=20
The staircase rose to the second floor and allowed access to a hall bath an=
d four rooms. As I stepped onto the landing at the head of the stairs, I pe=
ered into an old bath. It was empty, and that delighted me. I closed that d=
oor too. Two bedrooms were facing the back of the house; I glanced inside a=
nd closed those doors. The old beds, curtains, and chests were dusty from y=
ears of neglect, but I realized the dust wouldn?t kill me.=20
My hands were sweating, but my heart had slowed. I fought off the urge to r=
un, and the more I explored, the less frightened I became. There were two m=
ore rooms to check, and both faced the front of the house. The room on the =
right surprised me; at one time, it was Alice?s sewing room. Three large wi=
ndows in the front and on the side of the house allowed the sun?s rays to p=
enetrate the room. The light chased away the shadows and created a brillian=
t glow. I could see why this was the sewing room. Stacked on shelves were b=
olts of material and sewing supplies. I stood thinking how hard it must hav=
e been for her to leave her belongings.=20
Standing in the corner was a dress form. It appeared Alice had made arms an=
d attached them to the form using long pins. It freaked me out, and I wante=
d to run, but the sunlight in the room calmed my nerves. As my hands trembl=
ed, I took a deep breath; it was a dress form, that?s all.=20
The last room was another bedroom. I assumed it was the Johnson?s bedroom. =
There was a full-size bed, dresser, and two wardrobes; I took a deep breath=
 and opened up one of the cabinets. Several long dresses remained on hanger=
s. Alice?s clothes, I assumed, left here over forty-five years ago.=20
I checked the second wardrobe; old man Johnson?s clothes still hung there. =
I pushed the door closed. I could feel my hands, brow, and underarms sweati=
ng; I wanted to run but didn?t. For some reason, seeing Alice?s clothes mad=
e me feel sorry for her; it was as if I could relate to her. Seeing Clyde J=
ohnson?s clothes frightened me. After all, Clyde was dead, and Alice was st=
ill alive.=20
This was the room where I would shine my light, alerting my friends I was o=
n the second floor. I kept reassuring myself I could do this. I begin clear=
ing things from my path. I closed all doors. As I started to shut the door =
to Alice?s sewing room, I had an idea. My burdens lifted.=20
As I went down the stairs, I checked the lock on the front door; it was ope=
n. This would be my entrance, then up the stairs, and shine my light out th=
e window. I had closed all the doors upstairs except the two facing the fro=
nt of the house. I knew my friends would be standing on the city walk.=20

A quarter to midnight on Friday night, my friends and I stood facing the Jo=
hnson?s house. I could feel the anxiety flowing from my friends; just stand=
ing in front of the old place sent chills up my spine. I knew my friends wa=
nted to run, but no one attempted to do so. There were nine of us, and the =
smell of fear flourished.=20

?Well,? said Jimmy, ?You?re up.?

?Want to come with me?? I asked.=20
?No,? snapped Jimmy.=20
I walked toward the front door. The door opened, and I stepped inside. I tu=
rned on my flashlight, and it lit up the room. I turned the latch on the fr=
ont door; I didn?t want anyone coming into the house behind me.=20
I hurried up the stairs and toward the two rooms I?d left open. The doors t=
o the bath and the two back bedrooms were still closed. I felt a sense of r=
elief. I shined my light around and around, pretending to be nervous, lost,=
 and disoriented.=20

I pulled out a small light from my pocket, took a deep breath, and entered =
the sewing room. I turned off my floodlight. I pushed the dress form in fro=
nt of the window and went back toward the door. I pocketed my small light a=
nd turned on my floodlight. I went into the Johnson?s bedroom and shined my=
 light out of the window. I could see my friends standing on the walk.=20

I headed back toward the sewing room. I flashed my light up, down, and arou=
nd as I was leaving the room. It appeared I was searching every corner and =
crevice. When I stepped back into the hall, I turned and focused my beam on=
 the sewing dress form. It sent the eeriest silhouette out of the window.=
=20
I stepped back into the hall and let out a blood curling scream. It was so =
loud it frightened me. I ran toward the head of the stairs. Coming to my se=
nses, I stopped and flashed my light once more around the upstairs. Ensurin=
g it entered both rooms. I screamed as loud as I could. I will tell you; it=
 was most frightening.=20
I went down the stairs and into the living room. I let out one more scream =
and headed toward the kitchen door.=20
I slipped out the back door and headed down the drive. The streetlights con=
firmed my thinking as I saw my friends running down the street. I watched a=
s they turned down a side street, heading for their homes.=20
I walked to the front of the house and stood for a moment staring at the ab=
andoned home. I nodded and whispered, ?Thank you.?

I strolled toward home, knowing after this night, my life would never be th=
e same, and it wasn?t. I didn?t feel scared anymore; I felt a fresh breathe=
 of air as I walked toward home. I knew the teasing would end. I had faced =
and overcame an awful dilemma. It was difficult for me but well worth the s=
acrifice.=20
I?d heard many times in English class that Shakespeare once wrote, ?Cowards=
 die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but o=
nce.=20
I smiled and then laughed aloud. If ole Shakespeare knew what he was talkin=
g about, I guess all my friends died tonight. I?m sure I scared the dayligh=
ts out of them.--->
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=09=09=09=09Decmeber 31st, 2020
=09=09=09</title>=20
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  <!--This is a real story, as far as any story can be real, not made up. B=
ut who makes up stories, since it is already History? - Historians, of cour=
se. And if History is at odds with reality, who should we turn to? - Right,=
 to historians. The correct and interpret everything in the light of curren=
t events and trends. It is not worth getting upset about such insignificant=
 things because our past is still unpredictable, and our future is in a thi=
ck, impenetrable swamp. You know as well as I do that we are living in time=
s far worse than ancient History, and the Apocalypse looms on the horizon f=
or all of us.=20
When did all this happen? How did I ever get to The River House, the venera=
ble The River House? You'd better not ask. I still won't tell. Let's skip t=
hat part of my secret file; I didn't read it myself. I had already been ret=
ired from active duty due to age. In our diocese in Legoland, we retire lik=
e ballerinas at forty-something. It's hard work. It's hard work. The bosses=
, God bless them, understand this and dismiss them in time so that they don=
't make a mess at the finish line. The bosses want young, healthy, romantic=
, full of hope and self-confidence. And we... We're like old horses: worn o=
ut both morally and physically, although, if - as said Mr. Raikin - if you =
lean us against a warm wall, even wow! But it's a sin to complain. I stayed=
 in shape and was always ready. Therefore, apparently, and was honoured, an=
d summoned me to his Tommy. Tommy-Mee is the administrator on duty. The gho=
st man. Nobody knows his real name. Nobody's seen his face. How come? Very =
simple: he changes his mask every day. Like a Sikh turban on his head in th=
e morning: blue, red, purple, yellow... They're printing them on 3D printer=
s nowadays, like nothing to do. Not Sikhs, of course, but face masks, so no=
 one knows who's in front of you. That's what the administrators of Her Maj=
esty's Secret Service are for. They're invisible and indispensable. Their n=
ames are never mentioned anywhere. They probably don't even leave fingerpri=
nts. That's the nature of the job.=20
The message came with a deliberate letter. A polite letter that reeked of a=
rctic cold and made my heart skip a beat like the night before. I, a vetera=
n of the Service, had been summoned by the Center.=20
- To what do I owe the pleasure, sir?

- Thanks for asking. What's up, buddy?

"How's it going?" - is an informational meme, a question to which you don't=
 have to tell me how you're doing, what you do, what you do for a living, w=
hat you drink, and who you sleep with. You should politely answer in the sa=
me way, "How are you?" and the decorum of the encounter is maintained. That=
's how it's done. If you start blabbering on about what's going on, you'll =
be looked at best as a weirdo or mentally handicapped. And you're screwed. =
They'll shut you down for good.=20
- How's it going? - I ask you back. - "Buddy" is better than "son." And wha=
t the hell kind of son am I if I'm twice your age?

In general, these meetings in the personnel department of their mysteriousn=
ess every time remind me of a gathering of anonymous sociopathic alcoholics=
 in a secret safe house.=20
- Hi! My name is Alex...=20
 - Hi, Alex!

 - I have 34 souls killed by firearms, not counting those strangled and dro=
wned by these hands.=20
I am rolling up my sleeves and showing off the blood on my elbow.=20
- But I'm trying to get out of my criminal past.=20
- So are we, Alex... We've talked to the management.=20
Oh, I don't like the "we've consulted with management..." introductions. Ex=
pect something nasty. I'm a bit of an adventurer, I don't care about the ru=
les, but you have to know the limits. I'm not a show-off. Yes, I do. Yes, I=
 confess, sometimes I have to. But not everyone, just people I don't like. =
Yes, I avoid people with whom I am disgusted. But I don't need much: I want=
 freedom, I want justice, and I want wi-fi everywhere I put my "foot" in th=
e door. But the price of freedom for people in our profession is well known=
 to me: vigilance and caution. Administrators always consult with the manag=
ement, the board of directors and the president. The responsibility is exor=
bitant, so is their salary. Why should they take risks? They are changed, t=
hey are removed, they are poached from other services, they have moved arou=
nd like checkers on a checkerboard. Today there was a big, rosy-cheeked fel=
low sitting in front of me, with lush hair on his head. Redheaded, as a Sco=
tchman should be. Blue-eyed, with visible two-day stubble. He did not shave=
 his legs, but he wore the latest fashions so as not to be mistaken for a w=
oman. Like, I'm a real man. Here. I have a mustache and a beard. But of cou=
rse, I knew that I was in front of a mask. A chameleon called "Tommy." Besi=
des, I'd learned to take people as they were, not by their clothes or their=
 looks. The ugliest of them can look more humble than the Pope and even be =
sympathetic.=20
Tommy didn't pull the cat by the tail but got right to the point. I appreci=
ate that quality in a man: Why argue when fate is blowing its horn and call=
ing for exploits? And, frankly, we don't know him well enough, to begin wit=
h, a discussion of recent National Football League games or the Warriors' h=
andling of someone who's been dealt a blow. So let's cut to the chase.=20
- You have an impressive record, Alex. Can I call you that? - he asked poli=
tely, more as a matter of courtesy than permission. - We're in a bit of a p=
ickle, and I'd like your help with a delicate.=20
- Special operation," I came to his aid. - It's mine. You are very kind to =
me.=20
I've often had to do things I didn't want to do, but that's the life of an =
agent. We are like paper ships in a stormy sea. We are tossed back and fort=
h. I totally agree with the Almighty: if you want to make Him laugh, tell H=
im your plans. That's why one of my rules is to stay calm and go with the f=
low in any situation. Do amateur fishermen have a good joke about that: The=
 Rules of Fishing? - Relax...Relax...Relax...=20
- Yes, that's right. Operations. It's embarrassing to admit that our resour=
ces are running out, active agents are busy, and the Cabinet is cutting int=
o an already impoverished budget. In short, we have a job for you.=20
I began to wonder why Tommy had chosen me for his dark business. What diffe=
rence does it make? Because I'm not worth wasting: I'm a half-finished prod=
uct for the Service, I'm retired, and I'm not likely to be counted out by a=
n adversary. On the other hand, there are some things I can do that younger=
 people can't do, and I'm well known in small circles. And I know how to ke=
ep my mouth shut, even in bed.=20
- I understand. It's always been that way, as far as I know. A living wage =
and a ridiculous pension.=20
- Don't exaggerate, Special Agent Alex. Don't be capricious. We know how mu=
ch you've set aside in a closed bank account for a funeral. Don't forget th=
at many in and out of London would like to honour them with their presence =
because you've "annoyed" everybody with your drunken escapades. But we don'=
t forget for a moment that we owe you a debt of gratitude. You are our prid=
e. And you are a patriot, aren't you?

When your patriotism is appealed to, it's not clean. It's been tested. I'll=
 give you that. I want you to be quick about agreeing to it. It is not for =
nothing that the Lord gives us strength for exactly one day and then comes =
night so that we do not plan what will happen tomorrow. But shouldn't we th=
ink before we do something? And then, I don't wish to die of boredom at all=
=20
- Uh-oh. No problem. You have your orders.=20
I'm not the kind of moron who can just say, "We'll do it, Daddy, in the bes=
t way. MI6 doesn't take fools and oafs.=20
- I can't give you orders. You're a civilian but ask.=20
- Whatever you want, Tommy.=20
- You'd better get out of London. It's in your own interest. Say, why not v=
isit a nice southern country where no one knows you? You haven't been there=
 yet, have you? Or have you?

No, I haven't... The Dominican Republic. The Saman=E1 Peninsula. A five-sta=
r hotel, everything is taken care of and paid for. How can you forget that?

- You'll start a new life. Maybe you'll finally find yourself. Especially s=
ince beautiful women - they are beautiful on the equator. How many married =
women have you made happy here, Alex, and how many widows? You want a new e=
xperience, don't you? Do you want to change the world? Then go for it. The =
best way to do that is a change of scenery. Your goal is Argentina. How's t=
hat?

The best form of courtesy," says Charles Dickens, and he, as an English gen=
tleman and my countryman, can be trusted, "no matter where a man was brough=
t up, not to pry into other people's affairs. But Tommy, I suspect, was not=
 personally acquainted with Dickens.=20
- Latino? But I don't know a thing about Latin.=20
- Odd man out. They speak Spanish there.=20
I've been dreaming my whole life. No, really, no irony. My coworkers who've=
 been there have told me how temperamental the women are in the streets. An=
d what inviting glances, they throw to the left and right. And the tango...=
 Just look at the tango! To die is not to get up. It's all Argentina. Lucky=
 it wasn't Brazil, I'm not afraid of anything, but I'm terrified of Brazili=
an banana nova spiders. They're worse than the Black Widow. And what about =
having to live in a new place. We, spies, I mean, are sort of strangers to =
every one. Alien. So what difference does it make? They say it's all right =
where we are not. We should look around, check it out. On the other hand, w=
hy run if no one is chasing you? - That's right, too.=20
- Anything else you wanted to ask, Alex, or ask for?

- A raise.=20
- No. That would look pretentious and trite. Everybody wants a raise. The a=
ccounting department can't keep up with the rejections.=20
- A company car, then? Maybe a used one.=20
- Bad luck again. As luck would have it, they're all on the road. Not a sin=
gle one that's out of order.=20
- How about a diplomatic passport? In case we have to shoot back.=20
- Not. You're travelling incognito. And don't forget: Poison is safer than =
a bullet.=20
- You have a terrible sense of humour, Tommy, didn't I tell you? But at lea=
st something. Before you go. Why don't you lend me your machete, huh? Being=
 a target, changing your passport, isn't that worth nothing? And if you hav=
e to invade someone's privacy, risk your unblemished reputation? Personally=
, for me, to be deprived of rides on the London omnibuses and stops on the =
way home at The Drayton Arms, my second home, if you ask me, where you can =
get drunk on local brewery products and eat fish-and-chips, is like a knife=
 in Tommy, do you know that half of the hundred and fifty thousand Russians=
 in London City are KGB informers? Did you know that there are streetcar ca=
ts, bus cats and station cats in London? - No? And that they're my best fri=
ends?

- Don't be sarcastic, Alex. We'll manage with the Russian spies without you=
 If it's any consolation, you'll have to stop in Madrid on the way. Stay a=
 couple of days, learn the language, look around. But your contact is to me=
et you in Perpignan, a quiet little place known as "Spanish France," where =
he will give you the directives. You won't have to go through the cistern i=
n the men's room at the station looking for a bookmark.=20
- Well, I don't mind if you give him a good dez-infection. I mean the ciste=
rn, not the whole station.=20
Tommy, however, didn't notice the irony. I even imagined for a minute that =
he was a robot, for he went on ranting like a grouse in the woods; he didn'=
t care whether I listened to him or not.=20
- You understand, we wouldn't want you to risk bringing a "tail" with you. =
As they say, God protects the well-to-do. I hope you enjoy your trip. I won=
't keep you any longer. You'll get your papers, cash and tickets from Margr=
et's office, as always. You know her. And good luck, you'll need it. Would =
you like to have a drink with me, as the Russians do? You work for us now.=
=20
For you, so for you, I agree mentally. My father - may his memory be blesse=
d - told me never to drink alone. In our profession, it doesn't matter who =
pulls the trigger. What matters is who pays for the drinks. Wish yourself l=
uck, Captain America! You'll need it more than once.---> =20
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