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I first
came into contact with Terence
McKenna some time around 1990. A friend had returned from San
Francisco and brought home the usual stack of underground books,
movies, records, information & gossip. All of it was processed
and discussed over the course of a few stoned weekends, and our
local frame of reference was updated with a sliver of Bay Area
buzz.
Among the items up for scrutiny was a commercial video featuring
Terence McKenna giving a lecture, augmented by psychedelic
graphics. I already knew McKenna's name from somewhere, but this
was my first encounter with his trademark monologues, and
combined with the inventive acid visuals, the video had us
nailed to our stoner sofa for the full duration.
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Almost 20 years later, I still remember this so clearly that I had no problem identifying the old VHS release
via Youtube clips (it turned out to be The Petaluma Experiment).
At that time, my main preoccupation was with 1950s and 60s psychedelia, and
I filed McKenna's name away for future examination. "Filing
away" soon proved to be unwarranted, seeing how McKenna burst out
of his California cult status onto the global arena, with special love
extended from the European rave scene. Observing this, my internal contrarian -- who
sometimes screws things up for me -- told me that interviews with
Terence in London's über-hip i-D magazine was a sign for me to
stay away, and thus it happened that my real, deep interest in the man
and his work didn't come about until the 2000s, when he had already left
our planet.
One of the most remarkable things about Terence McKenna is the constancy
and internal consistency of his ideas. Thoughts and phrases presented at
the height of his fame in the mid-1990s can already be found, sometimes
verbatim, in his earliest works from the mid-70s. It seems that what
McKenna learned during the fabled sojourn to the
deep Amazon in 1971, and in the subsequent years when he and brother
Dennis were perfecting the art of home-growing psilocybin mushrooms,
opened a mine of concepts and language from which he could draw material
for the rest of his career. It is a very rich and varied palette, but as you familiarize
yourself with McKenna's catalog, you will discover a distinct set of
ideas, criticisms, people and terms, that keep recurring.
The first sign of life from McKenna as a thinker, The Invisible
Landscape (1975) which he co-authored with his brother Dennis, is dominated by Dennis' advanced technical ideas about
consciousness, hallucinogens, and DNA. Although the book could only have
been written and published in the strange and free-spirited mid-70s, it
remains an interesting read. Terence's main contribution is the second half, which deals with his numerological re-interpretation of
the I-Ching. He claims to have found a previously
unknown structure in the ancient Chinese book, which predicts and
identifies 'ingressions of novelty into time', on multiple temporal
levels. The 'Timewave Zero' theory is
essentially a graph, applicable on all human history, as
well as on briefer local phenomena. The lowest points of the graph indicate
important events and changes, and somewhat ominously it indicates
an 'end of history' in 2012 -- a date which McKenna later found was also
the end of the ancient Mayan calendar.
The 'end of history' received plenty of mainstream attention in
the early 1990s, following Francis Fukuyama's observations on the
collapse of all ideologies except liberal democracy. At that time, fans of
Terence McKenna had already heard it discussed for at least a decade. Of course, McKenna's
perspective concerned humanity and our world in toto, and this
eschatology remained one of his central ideas. It is repeatedly invoked
as a visualized idea, a metaphysical hallucination, where the End
Of The World is an attractor (sometimes called 'the Eschaton') which pulls evolution and human events
towards it. Connected to this notion are two other central concepts of
McKenna's; space migration from our planet into the stars, and the
recent progress of human history as a concresence.
The term concresence comes from the British
mathematician-philosopher A N Whitehead, who is most famous for writing
Principia Matehematica with Bertrand Russell. Moving from
mathematics to philosophy, Whitehead had published a few works which
influenced McKenna a great deal. Like many of McKenna's sources, it is
somewhat outside the mainstream of current intellectual thought, and
even with that in mind, 'concrescence' is hardly a key term in
Whitehead. In Process And Reality, Whitehead wrote that
"...the 'production of novel togetherness' is the ultimate notion
embodied in the term 'concresence'".
What McKenna developed from this is -- once again clearly visualized
-- the notion of the era, meaning our era, as the coming-together of
ideas and events toward an end-state at its center, like the tightening
of a spiral around its axis. |
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It is not a giant step from eschatology to apocalypsis, and it's
interesting to note that McKenna would often settle for leaving the
nature of his envisioned end-state open. At other times, the listener
finds that the end-state is not nuclear war or the collapse of
capitalism, but rather the human race's migration into space. To
McKenna, this was the natural evolution of man, "a monkey climbing
aboard a spaceship" in his typically compressed metaphor. Yet, the
specific contents of this space-travel vision remains one of the least
elaborate in the many hundreds of hours of recorded lectures
McKenna left behind. At times it even appears as a purely cerebral
development, describing an internal state rather than any actual
space-flight. In speeches given many years apart, McKenna mentions
"the interorization of the body, and the exteriorization of the soul" in
connection with these events in mankind's near future.
A reason for McKenna's vagueness on the nature of his eschatology may be
that it could be seen to contradict another of his key themes,
which is mankind's immediate connection to, and responsibility for, our
natural environment. This is an idea where we today find him at his most
prescient , and it's also an idea that developed naturally from his
great love for plant-life in general and hallucinogenic plants in
particular. His brother Dennis is a formally trained botanist, and some
of Terence's works reflect an interest in flora that extends far beyond
those of the average entheogen aficionado. This brotherly fascination
reached its most fruitful expression in the underground classic
Psilocybin,
Magic Mushroom Grower's Guide
(1976). Originally published under the pseudonyms O. T.
Oss and O. N. Oeric, the slim but information-packed volume has since
been reprinted with the proper author names credited. While mainly a
technical handbook on how to grow magic mushrooms in your own backyard
(rather than in tropical pastures), some passages in the book reflect
Terence's metaphysical ideas, and will be revisited farther down.
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A
more artistic expression of
McKenna's love for
nature and exotic plant-life can be found in his most ambitious work,
the 'talking book'
True
Hallucinations
(1984).
The printed
version (1993) of the same title is more commonly seen today, but its
original appearance was as a set of 8 cassettes in a custom-designed
clam-shell box, with a cover price of $80 (a lot
of money at the time). Original rock music, environmental ambience and
psychedelic sound effects expand the spoken word recording into
something uniquely memorable; an experience of atmosphere as much as the
re-telling of a "ripping good story". |
Clocking in at about 9 hours,
True
Hallucinations
describes a trek deep into the Amazon basin in Southern Colombia that
McKenna undertook along with his brother Dennis and a few fellow
travelers in 1971. It is the most detailed account McKenna ever gave of
his life-altering experiences in the tropical rain forest, which seem
fuelled as much by personal circumstances and the milieu, as by the
mushroom and ayahuasca experiment around which the storyline is built.
Much of the work's strength comes from the well-written and arresting
descriptions of the natural environment and the co-explorers.
Parts of the material seems to come from a book manuscript with
literary (not just documentary) aspirations, but given Terence's extraordinary
qualities as a spoken word performer, the audio format is the best
imaginable presentation of it. Other parts seem ad-libbed
before a small circle of listeners, and the mood is occasionally
loosened with laughter.
The La Chorrera journey has taken on somewhat legendary proportions over
the decades, but a brief summary may be in order. In 1971 Terence
McKenna, unpublished and unknown, found himself with a non-descript
Berkeley degree in shamanism and no clear prospects for the future. He'd
been in on the hippie seeker trail to the East, dabbled in spiritual
work in India, collected butterflies in Indonesia, taught English in
Japan, and was -- according to a comment made much later -- "wanted by
Interpol". A friend's suggestion to go down to the Amazon to look for aboriginal
drugs suddenly seemed attractive, and a small travelling party was
assembled, including Terence's younger brother Dennis (21 at the time). The McKennas had
lost their mother not long before, an event which brings a subtle undertone
of melancholy to the
True
Hallucinations
storyline.
After an ardous journey via plane, river-boat and a 110-mile walk
through the Colombian jungle, the destination is reached; a small
village/mission deep in the Amazon basin near the Peruvian border,
completely cut off from the world. McKenna's obvious rapport with the
rain forest helps create a vivid, arresting picture of the environment
they pass through, and the often strange characters they meet. The
atmosphere is thick, and there is an underlying tension that slowly
mounts. Except for an idea to examine a few loose ends in the works
of ethnobotanists such as Richard Evans-Schultes, the purpose of the
expedition appears to have been a quest for adventure, and this would
soon present itself.
The McKenna brothers had come looking for yage (ayahuasca) and the
obscure hallucinogenic admixture okojee, but upon arrival at La
Chorrera, the focus rapidly shifted. A pasture near the village was full
of psilocybe mushrooms, and a steady intake of these powerful agents
had a profound effect on the small party of Americans. Dennis McKenna,
who is in many ways the main character of
True
Hallucinations,
was particularly affected. After several days with mushrooms and
increasingly odd behavior, he had developed a theory on how the
psilocybin, combined with the harmaline in an ayahuasca brew provided by
friendly tribesmen, could effect a permanently altered state of
consciousness, which would allow for direct readouts from DNA, and
change the course of human history. This theory, which also informs the aforementioned
The Invisble
Landscape, is described in
great
technical detail on the audio tapes and makes for a somewhat awkward clash with the poetic
rainforest descriptions that surrounds it.

Dennis & Terence McKenna, 1975 |
As tensions within the expedition mount, "the experiment at La Chorrera"
is performed, and an increasingly dissociated Dennis McKenna proclaims
it a success. Brother Terence is unsure of what exactly has passed, but
the following two weeks finds Dennis in a schizophrenia-like state of
withdrawal and delphic utterances, while a bewildered but somehow
euphoric Terence discovers that he no longer needs any sleep, and spends
his days and nights listening to his brother, and thinking. The I-Ching
reinterpretation described above emanates during this strange period, as
do a lot of other novel ideas that McKenna later would propagate. As the
days pass, Dennis McKenna slowly returns to a more conventional frame of
mind, and not long after, the group leaves La Chorrera to return to
civilisation. |
One thing that makes
True Hallucinations unusual in McKenna's oeuvre is
that it's relatively free from the fringe science speculation that would
make him famous. It is mainly a documentary-literary work whose emphasis
is on milieus, events and people. The technical and philosophical
elements that do occur are connected to the "experiment" and its
tangents. Although not presented until 13 years later, this suggests
that while McKenna's vast knowledge of esoterica and science was already
in bloom, he had not yet found his creative thinker muse. Yet, given the
importance that McKenna would assign to the La Chorrera expedition
throughout his career, it must have been there that he found his calling
as a freewheeling philosopher, a role that would be elaborated and
expanded during his mushroom experiments for the rest of the
1970s. Entering the '80s, Terence McKenna's sharp and witty mind was
filled to the brim with original ideas, for those who were willing to
listen.
A notion already present in Colombia 1971, and given substantial room
in
True Hallucinations,
is the UFO phenomena. As McKenna would later describe it, his UFO
interest was piqued by Carl Jung's
Flying
Saucers: A Modern Myth of Things Seen in the Skies
(1959). Jung was interested in the flying saucer reports as a mass
psychic phenomena, and their potential connections to his theories about
the collective subconscious. McKenna describes personal UFO and alien
sightings in both Colombia and Hawaii, yet much like Jung, he seems
uninterested or unconvinced of the physical actuality of these
visitations. With typical diligence, he scrutinized the UFO literature
until he found a writer worth taking seriously, the Frenchman Jacques
Vallée. While UFO:s were in vogue in the late 1970s and early 1980s, it
is surprising to see how this aspect was made a key
element in the presentation of
True
Hallucinations,
highlighted by the cover drawing as well as the concluding chapters.
McKenna would return to the UFO issue many times, but like space
migration, it's not a topic where he would elaborate much beyond a
few specific viewpoints. As the '80s rolled on, public interest in flying
saucers declined, which surely affected his orientation. In the
Tree Of
Knowledge
workshop series from Colorado 1992, he refers to "my extraterrestrial
phase" as a thing of the past.
Connected to both UFO and space migration is another field in
which Terence McKenna's interest never would fade: Evolution. Indeed,
cultural and biological evolution became his central themes
during the final decade of his career, and they form a
cornerstone of his most mainstream work,
Food Of The
Gods
(1992). This evolutionary theme has proven fruitful with later
writers, such as Graham Hancock's best-selling
Supernatural,
where the debt to McKenna is clearly and generously stated.
An early expression of McKenna's interest in evolution can be found in
the
Psilocybin - Magic Mushroom Grower's Book
from 1976. An introduction describes McKenna's contact with a mushroom
spirit, whose dramatic 'message' contains much of what he would later
reiterate and brood upon:
I am old,
older than thought in your species, which is itself fifty times older
than your history.Though I have been on earth for ages I am from the
stars. [...] Since it is not easy for you to recognize other varieties
of intelligence around you, your most advanced theories of politics and
society have advanced only as far as the notion of collectivism.
But
beyond the cohesion of the members of a species into a single social
organism there lie richer and even more baroque evolutionary
possibilities. Symbosis is one of these. [...] Symbiotic relationships
between myself and civilized forms of higher animals have been
established many times and in many places throughout the long ages of my
development.
These relationships have been mutually useful; within my
memory is the knowledge of hyperlight drive ships and how to build them.
I will trade this knowledge for a free ticket to new worlds around suns
younger and more stable than your own [...]. |
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This speaking voice "in the head" is a phenomena specific to psilocybin,
and one reported frequently by mushroom trippers. McKenna referred to it
as the Logos, drawing his meaning of that term from the
ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus. The Logos is a friendly, wise,
occasionally impatient teacher, with whom McKenna would carry on many
conversations over the years. As he himself remarked, contemporary
society would deem this a kind of mental illness, while in another age
it would be the mark of a saint. A
1996 study showed a remarkable consistency in the characteristics of
this mushroom voice, and the phenomena remains unexplained. McKenna did
not concern himself with the how and why of the Logos communication, but
focused upon the contents of its dialogue.
In terms of evolutionary biology, the Logos' self-declaration above
resembles certain theories that have been bandied about in mainstream
science. Nobel Prize-winning biologist Francis Crick developed the
theory of
directed panspermia , which suggests that the
earliest developments of life on earth may have been caused by the
distribution of biochemical agents from other parts of the universe. Due
to certain unexplained jumps in the development of primitive organisms,
this theory and variants continues to be debated among evolutionary
biologists. As a sidenote, Francis Crick testified on his deathbed that LSD had helped him visualize the DNA
structure, the scientific breakthrough for which he is most famous
today.
Although Terence McKenna would often touch upon macro-evolutionary
issues, his main interest here was undoubtedly the cultural
evolution that the hallucinogenic agents may have caused. During the
last decade of his career the "stoned ape" hypothesis rose to become his
central idea, and one that he's strongly associated with. The
theory suggests, in summary, that the earliest socio-cultural developments
of man's ancestors was triggered by the consumtion of psilocybin
mushrooms. In prehistoric times in Africa, the emergence of nomadic
pastoralism would make available large quantites of these mushrooms,
which grow naturally in cattle dung. The evolutionary advantage they
bring works on three distinct levels, according to McKenna: 1) small
doses increase visual acuity, which is an advantage for hunters; 2)
medium doses triggers sexual arousal and lead to uninhibted mating (i e,
group sex orgies), which accelerates reproduction; 3) high doses lead to
spiritual experiences and glossolalia, which lead to the invention of
religion and the invention of language.
In addition to these aspects,
McKenna suggested that the group mating created a non-patriarchic,
genuinely collective society, as the issue of fathership was unclear and
meaningless. In other words, all children were raised by the entire
collective, and strong internal bonds came from this. The embryonic
religious orientation in this environment McKenna describes as feminine,
experience-oriented, and informal. Then, due to climate changes in the
African grasslands, the nomadic groups moved north, and somewhere along the
way they lost the companionship of the coprophilic psilocybe mushroom. In
Food Of The
Gods,
this casting out of paradise is discussed in great detail, although the
historical-archeological proof that McKenna presents (from Northern
Africa and Asia Minor) is sporadic and limited. Occurring some 12.000
years ago, McKenna describes the era before this downfall as "the last
sane moment of man-kind". As recorded history began, what is called
"dominator" cultures arose, and the pastoral-collective goddess culture
of the stoned ape of Africa was lost, and things have been going
downhill ever since. According to the theory.

Backtracking some, there are not many cataloged works from Terence
McKenna between the mushroom grower's handbook from 1976 and the
True
Hallucinations
talking book from 1984. During this low-profile period he planted the
seeds of what would become his true forte, the spoken word performances.
From what I understand, McKenna's bardic eloquence was first heard on
late-night radio in California. In the early '80s, he gave his earliest
(recorded) lectures, New And Old Maps Of Hyperspace
from 1982 being the first one listed in
the most
thorough bibliography. There would be hundreds, literally, over the next 17 years.
McKenna's strength as an orator is unique in psychedelic history, or in
contemporary pop culture. His books, although highly recommended, are a
pale reflection of the inspiration and mental quickness on display in
these recordings, and arguably his writing is the most effective
when it's closest to his speaking voice (as in The Archaic
Revival). As a speaker he works best
in a semi-informal workshop format, in front of a graspable audience,
and at least to my ears, he was most at his forte prior to the
breakthrough into the mainstream that occurred in the early 1990s. In
formal lecture situations, a certain academic stiffness creeps in that
stifles his natural stream of consciousness. In the '90s, as the rave
and cyberpunk sub-cultures embraced him, he would occasionally seem to
adjust his persona to the scene he was in, which probably was fun
for him, but may seem to veer too close to Tim Leary territory on
occasion. In any event, most of my favorite McKenna recordings date from
the mid-1980s.
One way to approach Terence McKenna's oeuvre is to regard it as
play, on an advanced yet reasonably accessible intellectual level,
with a distinct set of unorthodox building blocks. The blocks are arranged in
different ways and sequences, brought in and out of focus, rotated,
tossed in the air and elegantly brought to rest. Using a fishing
metaphor, McKenna encouraged psychedelic explorers to search for
"medium-sized ideas"; novel notions which are significant, but not big
enough to drag you down into the metaphysical depths.
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In addition to those colorful
idea "blocks" discussed above, one needs to consider classic alchemy, a field from
which McKenna drew vast amounts of inspiration. In the La Chorrera
experiment of True Hallucinations, the alchemical concept of 'the
philosopher's stone' is invoked (at times via the latin 'lapis
philosophorum') as a key perspective of the spiritual-cerebral
breakthrough outlined by the McKenna brothers. Alchemy was an early love
of Terence, and his reading in that esoteric area was deep and wide,
even by his own bookish standards. |
Additional to the attractive mystique and
obscurity of alchemy, there is no doubt that its antithetical status to
conventional science raised McKenna's interest. While alchemical terminology and references are downplayed in the later
phases of his work (perhaps because their obscurity
alienated his audience), the attacks upon science became more
pronounced, if anything. This was a timely quest, emerging out of the
shadows of doubt that quantum physics, evolutionary biology and chaos
theory threw upon the presumed 'facts' of 19th century science; a
similar paradigm was popularized via modern works such as Fritjof Capra's
The Tao Of Physics. But even with the emergence of New Physics,
McKenna would continue to question most ideas cherished by the
scientific community, unless they seemed to confirm his own notions in
some unexpected way. Science, as it had evolved from Descartes and
Newton, was linked by McKenna to 'dominator' culture, and yet another
facet of the general descent of the human project into a
rationalist, reductionist, materialist, prison of the mind. One might
detect a personal undertone to McKenna's attacks on science, which may
derive from early career frustrations. Towards the end of True
Hallucinations, he describes visiting a highly respected professor
of biology to present the theory he and brother Dennis had developed at
La Chorrera, and being dismissed in the most unambiguous way. Although
littered with interesting notions and phrases, the critique of science
is not one of McKenna's most stimulating blocks of play, especially not
when coupled with his increasingly pessimistic view of western society
in general. Arguably, he came too near the trap of 'too big ideas that
drag you into the deep' that he himself had warned about.
As his star was rising, McKenna would be exposed to a number of in-vogue
ideas that were more or less connected to his work. Sometimes the fit
would be excellent, as in the merger of feminist anthropology (via Riane
Eisler's The Chalice And The Blade) with his 'stoned ape' theory,
to form the more comprehensive theory presented in Food Of The Gods.
On the other hand, McKenna's embracement of virtual reality technology
seems trendy and ill-advised in retrospect, although he was certainly
not the only big brain to be enthused by the early promises of VR around
1990.
McKenna's ambivalent relationship to DMT falls between these two
poles of influence; while he seems to draw vital inspiration from his
encounters with the 'jewelled self-dribbling basketballs', his
multimedia performances from '90s rave events where DMT is praised do
not offer much beyond Learyesque 'turn on, tune in, drop out'
cheerleading. His personal, highly specific experiences with the drug
would be recounted in detail, even though (as a survey of DMT trip
reports shows) the focus on linguistic creativity that he describes was
hardly typical. In smaller forums, he would sometimes suggest that DMT was
'simply too much', at other times it was described as the center of the hallucinogenic
mandala. DMT is a rare case where McKenna couldn't find a clearly stated
position, which in itself may say something about this extreme
psychedelic.
Looking at influences, a few more names need to be discussed. James
Joyce was a much-loved companion to Terence McKenna, Finnegans Wake
in particular. Joyce first pops up, like so much else, at La Chorrera
back in 1971, where brother Dennis proclaimed that a couple of hens
strolling around the small village were in fact James and Nora Joyce!
Beside the dynamic and unorthodox ideas about language, there is an
Irish, bardic connection between the two that Terence would refer to
with some delight. Related to Joyce we also find Marshall McLuhan,
who McKenna would laud even though McLuhan had disappeared into foggy
memory. When McLuhan was rediscovered in the 1990s, McKenna had already
been championing him for a decade. He learned a lot from the Canadian
media theorist, both in terms of ideas and terminology. This infatuation
with McLuhan is very much McKenna; it's unconcerned with mainstream
trends (i e: 'McLuhan is passé'), it's productive, and it's ultimately
prescient.
Ethnobotany is a
frequently used tool in the Terence McKenna workshop, and one
which he applied with effortless delight. His brother Dennis would
become a highly respected authority in the field (still active today)
and must have been a vital sparring partner over the years.
Terence's
ability to rattle off complex taxonomies and molecular structures in
spontaneous Q & A situations illuminates one of the unique
properties of his public persona, the seemingly limitless and
near-photographic memory. Fine points between several types of
shamanic plants, exact years and even dates for some obscure event in
the Italian renaissance, long verbatim passages from Shakespeare, can
all be summoned and presented on the spur of the moment. |
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Beyond his eloquence, the exceptional memory,
and a profound learning in matters both esoteric and exoteric, the most important
attribute of Terence McKenna may have been his
fearlessness. Lack of prejudice and an openness to new ideas is
invigorating, but beneath these qualities was a more profound drive that insisted upon
novelty, and demanded change. McKenna was easily bored, and his somewhat
controversial dismissal of classic Eastern spiritual paths (as opposed
to his own tryptamine shamanism) seems to have come about from
impatience as much as a lifelong interest in hallucinogens. Fortunately, boredom
wouldn't allow him to cheat on his rational skepticism -- he described
himself as the most skeptic member in the La Chorrera expedition -- and
even while his fertile creativity was soaring, he kept a steady watch on
himself, which is why there is such a consistency and internal
logic among his ideas.
This lack of fear also makes him a typical representative of his
generation. It's easy today to forget that Terence McKenna was a child of the
'60s as much as any elder hallucinogen spokesman out there. When he
emerged out of obscurity in the mid-1980s, the self-confidence and
iconoclasm of the Baby-boomers was there, but their pomposity and
naiveté were not. Looking constantly towards what lay ahead, he rarely
spoke of the '60s, or hippies, and he treated the softened 1970s
spiritualism with light sarcasm. Due to this, he seamlessly bridged the
gap to the jaded, irony-fed indivualists of Generations X and Y, and
will probably continue to bridge gaps as the 2000s roll on. In one of
the
later lectures he summed up his work: "Reason, but a willingness to explore the
edges, has been the method".
1. Here is
a
print collection of Terence lectures, including some of the earliest
ones, along with interviews and more.
2. Podcast collection of
free lectures
3. The Terence McKenna
bibliography
4.
Wikipedia entry
5. The 1992 i-D magazine interview mentioned above (click image to
read):

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