Received: from nobody by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with local (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cJlis-0006eq-1d for lojban-newreal@lojban.org; Wed, 21 Dec 2016 10:34:42 -0800 Received: from [192.3.92.172] (port=42269 helo=theidealrewards.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cJlim-0006df-UZ for lojban@lojban.org; Wed, 21 Dec 2016 10:34:41 -0800 Date: Wed, 21 Dec 2016 11:58:08 -0700 From: SamsClubReward Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Mime-Version: 1 Message-ID: <4c2c7e55fbfda4353ca10c7b6e541eeed-14731553665c2c7e55fbfda4353ca10c7b6e541eeed-lojban@lojban.org55803> Subject: You're merry Christmas-rewards are ending: (alert-14731553) To: Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Spam-Score: 3.5 (+++) X-Spam_score: 3.5 X-Spam_score_int: 35 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: make it simple and was aware that he was crying for what once had been, and for what had passed. More than anything now, he wanted to see his Hepzibah, and he willed her to him with a force so strong that his knees released their grip and his throat loosened. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he could feel the stone cracking to release him. He moved first a hand and then an arm. Then, carefully, he took a step away from the wall and toward the dow. When he was able, he began his daily work. His strength grog, he raised his shutter and opened the cent shop. It was not Hepzibahs shop, the one he had created in the book; it was not even a bad rendering of it. But it was the best an old man could do. The customers bought what he put out. One by one they came, shyly at first like the little in his story, but then more boldly. ZEE COULDNT FIND A PARKING place on Turner Street. Tour buses lined the lot at the House of the Seven Gables, and the tourists who came in their own cars parked on the sidewalk, ignoring the RESIDENTS ONLY sign in favor of a tendollar ticket they would never pay. She finally parked on the small patch of green where Finch kept his bird feeders. As she got out of the car, she noticed a tourist walking away with an antique ships model, which seemed to fly through Finchs firstfloor dow and into his hands. Her first thought was that Finch was being robbed. Then she noticed the tourists bags hanging from the guys arm, a small at his side. As she got closer, she spotted the handlettered sign in the top of the dow: HEPZIBAHS CENTSHOP. And underneath it a smaller sign, also handlettered: EVERYTHING MUST GO. Finchs hair stood up in white tufts. His voice was hoarse. He didnt recognize her until she stood directly in front of him, and when he did, he immediately started to cry. The tourists moved back, out of the way. Dad, she said. Whats going on here? Hepzibah, he said. My Zee. He reached out for her, gripping her hand as hard as he could. I willed it so, he said, and then turned to his audience, his faith in life [...] Content analysis details: (3.5 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: theidealrewards.com] 3.3 RCVD_IN_SBL_CSS RBL: Received via a relay in Spamhaus SBL-CSS [192.3.92.172 listed in zen.spamhaus.org] 0.5 RCVD_IN_SORBS_SPAM RBL: SORBS: sender is a spam source [192.3.92.172 listed in dnsbl.sorbs.net] -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 0.8 RDNS_NONE Delivered to internal network by a host with no rDNS make it simple and was aware that he was crying for what once had been, and for what had passed. More than anything now, he wanted to see his Hepzibah, and he willed her to him with a force so strong that his knees released their grip and his throat loosened. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he could feel the stone cracking to release him. He moved first a hand and then an arm. Then, carefully, he took a step away from the wall and toward the dow. When he was able, he began his daily work. His strength grog, he raised his shutter and opened the cent shop. It was not Hepzibahs shop, the one he had created in the book; it was not even a bad rendering of it. But it was the best an old man could do. The customers bought what he put out. One by one they came, shyly at first like the little in his story, but then more boldly. ZEE COULDNT FIND A PARKING place on Turner Street. Tour buses lined the lot at the House of the Seven Gables, and the tourists who came in their own cars parked on the sidewalk, ignoring the RESIDENTS ONLY sign in favor of a tendollar ticket they would never pay. She finally parked on the small patch of green where Finch kept his bird feeders. As she got out of the car, she noticed a tourist walking away with an antique ships model, which seemed to fly through Finchs firstfloor dow and into his hands. Her first thought was that Finch was being robbed. Then she noticed the tourists bags hanging from the guys arm, a small at his side. As she got closer, she spotted the handlettered sign in the top of the dow: HEPZIBAHS CENTSHOP. And underneath it a smaller sign, also handlettered: EVERYTHING MUST GO. Finchs hair stood up in white tufts. His voice was hoarse. He didnt recognize her until she stood directly in front of him, and when he did, he immediately started to cry. The tourists moved back, out of the way. Dad, she said. Whats going on here? Hepzibah, he said. My Zee. He reached out for her, gripping her hand as hard as he could. I willed it so, he said, and then turned to his audience, his faith in life itself renewed. I willed it so! he cried.


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FINCH PRACTICED TOUCHING HIS thumb to his middle finger as rapidly and accurately as he could. He had succeeded fairly well with his right hand but was slower and clumsier with his left. Theres usually one side thats weaker than the other, the doctor said, taking notes. Im aware of that, Zee said. Theyd been through the routine at least a dozen times. Were here about his medication. Unfortunate, he said. But we did know that this one might not work. This particular medication came with warnings. It causes hallucinations in some people. And clearly hes one of those people. He thought he was Nathaniel Hawthorne. The doctors eyebrows raised. Creative. Of course, considering his background... Zee fired him a look. Often men believe theyre working for the CIA, some covertops kind of thing. Womens hallucinations often tend to be more ual in nature, he said, grinning at her. Zee ignored his remark. Neurologists have a rather warped sense of humor, Mattei had told her more than once. Well take him off it. Ive already done that, she said. When she hadnt been able to reach the doctor by phone, she had checked the PDR and had called a friend of Michaels who was also a neurologist. There was no danger from sudden withdrawal, no weaning period. Dont talk about me as if Im not here, Finch said. His voice, once loud enough to be heard unmiked in lecture halls of a hundred or more students, was now barely audible. Sorry, Dad, she said. The hallucinations are not usually unpleasant. Theyre generally more alarming for the family than for the patient. Nevertheless, she said, ending any possibility of continuing the meds. It seemed astounding to Zee when she thought of the side effects some doctors expected their patients to contend with. Any television ad for pharmaceuticals these days came with a list of contraindications so long it sometimes seemed amazing to Zee that people would dare to take so much as an aspirin. The doctor stood up. Can you walk for me, Professor Finch? Finch stood shakily. Her first impulse was to help him, but she willed her hands to stay at her sides. With great effort Finch shuffled fifteen feet across the doctors office. Zee could tell how difficult his effort was only by his breathing. His face was masked, a classic sign of Parkinsons. Once a reserved New England Yankee, Finch had become more emotional with the progression of his disease. But his emotion showed neither on his face nor in any vocal inflection. It was a more subtle energy that told Zee how frustrating and impossible this short walk had become for her father. She had often dered at the fact that Finch didnt have the shaking so common to Parkinsons. Ten years into the disease, he had only recently developed any kind of resting tremor, and even that was so slight that anyone who was not looking for it would never notice. Curiously, none of these symptoms had been the first signs of Finchs illness. The first cause for concern had happened in a restaurant in Boston, the night Finch had taken them all out to dinner to celebrate the release of his new book based on Melvilles letters to Hawthorne. The book was aptly titled: An Intervening Hedge, after a review that Melville once wrote for one of Hawthornes books. Finch had been working on the book for the better part of ten years. The fact that he had finished it at all was cause enough for celebration; the fact that someone had actually published it represented job security. Finch didnt need to work. His family had left him money. But teaching was something he loved, and teaching Hawthorne and the American Romantic writers was his greatest joy in life. Finch presented a copy to both Zee and Melville, the name of the man for whom Finch had left Zees mother. Thats what Zee often told people who asked, though neither statement was very accurate. Actually, Finch never left Maureen, though he had met Melville for the first time during one of Maureens extended hospitalizations. And Melvilles name was really Charles Thompson. Melville was a nickname Finch had given him, one that stuck. Zee

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