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sometimes after a day like this when i've been staring at the blinking red bloomberg screens for like six straight hours and ignoring all the fancy advice about greed and fear and tapdancing from that guy named after a luby's spread i briefly remember what it was like to be a kid and white knuckling the arthritis generating invention called an atari joystick starting from right after a three's company rerun ended until a cheers rerun started several hours later and quite honestly a good bit past that feeling extremely desperate to break some sort of score in missile command that might hopefully do something really strange to the screen because that sort of success wasn't really anticipated by the missile command folks and in the process kind of lost all sense of time and space and thinking i could have played dennis miller's character in rush only as an eight year old but then some outside force would lurch me almost one quarter of the way to my senses and i'd briefly wonder if the world around me was still there but then go see if i could grab some of those fruit in a pouch snacks that i don't have to explain because they still sell them. be honest how does it seem like i'm handling the vol?
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