Carry on Camping

Once again the end of the world didn’t happen. Well, it was the end for a few people these past three weeks. Good ole Bin Laden, allegedly sent to a watery grave, Obama the expert orator, blowing it in front of the Queen of England. Not forgetting the other kind of blowing going on over in an upscale Manhattan hotel with ex-IMF Chief DSK.

It’s been ‘sayonara baby’ all the way from the Sea of Japan to Joplin, Missouri. Iceland’s Grimsvotn Volcano just added some extra trepidation for those who were disappointed the Rapture didn’t take off as… scheduled.

I’ve taken some time away from the blogging universe due to my unexpected brush with death. That’s right, I almost died. At least I thought I was going to die, for about 48 hours. My entire body went into shock, unable to eat or sleep, or stop physically shaking, even after all manner of injections and treatments.

The doctor’s couldn’t find out what exactly was happening to me. Thank God I seemed to recover miraculously within a week. I still have pain in my upper arm, and occasional numbness in the soles of my feet, I’m 90% recovered.

Stress can bring on a lot of things people tell me, and I guess that stress played a part in this. But I can’t help wondering if my lower back injury, brachial nerve problem, and bad acupuncture, had something to do with it! I was seen by four (highly qualified and expensive) independent doctors, and they all said that they couldn’t say what was wrong with me!

While I paced from one end of the room to the other at 4.00am, trying to stop myself from actually collapsing to the floor, it occurred to me that if I died that night, I would not be a very nice sight. So I decided to fix my hair, put on some clean underwear and decent dress, brush my teeth, and apply some make-up, just in case the emergency room doctor was cute. Up to now, I had been quite unlucky in this respect.

Well, if you’re gonna go, you ought to do it with a measure of style. As I stood in the middle of the living room at 5.00am, still pacing up and down in my heels, I prayed to God and asked him to forgive my sins and to help me – if I was going to die please, make it quick! But as it turned out, the end didn’t come for me yet.

Three days later, after another visit to a new doctor, I walked along a street in the ‘old town’ and came across a man giving out pamphlets. He was standing next to a sign that read, ‘If you died tomorrow, where would you go?’…

I laughed out loud, more out of fear than anything else. I thought of this as a good sign. I continued laughing, but it was at the pure irony of it all.

Back home I tried to capitalise on my experience (what?) I thought that for such an event to have occurred to me, a person that is always proclaiming that they are not afraid to die, must surely have some kind of meaning, a message perhaps, that I should be heeding.

I searched on my desk for some paper to write on and noticed that some books had been disturbed on my shelf. Two books I started to read but never finished. The back cover of Gods of the Dawn, by Peter Lemesurier has, ‘Truth is often stranger than fiction’. The other was a sci-fi novel by Iain M. Banks, called Against a Dark Background. Irony was fully in overdrive.

Now I’m laughing at myself over the situation, but at the time it was anything but funny. Real fear is not a fun feeling. The folks on that Youtube video of the Joplin tornado can testify to that.

Waiting to die, or rather thinking that you are about to die, can be a life-altering event. The Libyan people are wondering what is going to happen to them. The Syrian’s are wondering too, the Japanese, and countless others around the world suffering through war, natural and not so natural catastrophe, or illness. I am still trying to figure out exactly how fear has altered me.

If I died tomorrow, where would I go?

Until the End of the World

Turning on the TV or radio news is like tuning into some Hollywood disaster movie trailer. At a safe distance we glimpse apocalyptic footage of a devastated landscape somewhere on planet Earth, and momentarily wonder if all the prophets of doom have got it right about 2012.

In this strange universe, I find myself yet again pondering the meaning of my life, the escalating coincidences, and weird way everything is connected. I sit in on a hedge fund managers meeting, as the Mayan Long Count Calendar and the end of the world is discussed. Half-heartedly believed by some members in the room, while others sip their espresso, snivelling under their breath, or gulp their Perrier in amazement, and I narrowly avoid choking on the surreal.

Once again, tricked by that old Cosmic Joker – LMAO – he seems to say – as I have to pinch myself into the realisation that God does move in mysterious ways. As it turned out, the RGB wasn’t such a BIG deal after all. Now hired as a general all-in-one Admin, I’m back where I started . This time I get my Herman-Miller chair and underground parking space again, but no corner office or staff to supervise. Sounds good? Well remember, the Cosmic Joker always gets the last laugh.

Someone once said, and I can never remember who, to punish us God gives us what we wish for. Indeed, I am finding this to be close to the truth. Not to bore you with details, each day, each week my progression swings on a pendulum, along with my fears and regrets. Some days I feel good, others not so much. I go from discussing HR issues with the CEO one moment, taking out the office garbage the next. What does ‘dogsbody’ mean? (We use to call idiots that back in the U.K.)

It’s true, I do get depressed quite often now, because I fear that 2012 isn’t going to happen, and I am destined to spend the rest of my life poor, and being someone or other’s general dogsbody/PA/Admin/maid/slave. Where are those cinematic promises of joining a resistance guerrilla army, to fight the New World Order, or Aliens, whichever comes first?

I know it’s up to me to make a decision to change but… just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in. No longer struggling with the morals and ethics of the abortion ‘industry’, I’m back to showcasing my talent as the most highly organised Admin. Manager this side of the Med. So, why am I not satisfied?

I’ve been looking for an agent to sell my writing, struggling with self-doubt, self-esteem, and self-pity. Will I ever do anything with my crazed autobiography, book on dreams, or sci-fi screenplay converted into a novel? Up to now I’ve had little time to concentrate, working late most days, the freelancing stalled on the backburner.

“Enough of your procrastination Marie, what about hedge fund managers and the end of the world, what are they saying?”

Sceptics abound, but when you hear a reputable stock market trader talk about how much the US government is spending on underground bunkers in preparation for ‘something big in 2012’, you’ve got to ask yourself, "Should I be doing anything about it?"

Then your M.D. drops a book on your desk called, ‘How to Live in a Dangerous World’, and says “It’s yours, take it home and read it!” Do you start to worry? Should I sell everything and move to Australia?


I don't know if you would call this predictive programming back in the 50s, but the below trailer is a MUST SEE!

Japan's Plan B

Something VERY strange is happening. I took a leaf out of the EnterTrainment Blog's book (http://g8ors.blogspot.com) and similar sites, not to forget MK Culture and The Celtic Rebel's blog, on the growing Syncro path to enlightenment. I decided to see if I could sync the events in my life since Friday, with the Japanese Quake... this is what I discovered. Please tell me if it's just me?

On Thursday I began to listen to some great music, and was suddenly mesmerised by a certain band. Friday I began to message friends (I don't tweet) before I knew anything about Japan, talking about my favourite music of the moment. A British band and singer that has really captured my imagination, called 'Plan B'.

I spent a lot of time reading about, watching, and listening to Plan B... I'm a writer in my spare time so I was inspired to write all sorts of things. Thinking about my recent comments like, 'they shake the planet', 'they hit like a meteorite', 'you can feel the earth move', 'it's a mass extinction event', etc. (I was having fun) BUT I suddenly noticed some strange connections.

I looked for pictures of the quake, and I happened upon the logo used of Japan for the new relief T-shirt - not the Red Sun, but the JP intertwined... It reminded me of the Plan B logo of PB intertwined, only reversed...it also directly converts into a J P logo... I thought it was just plain weird.

Then I noticed the big B in the 'Brits' logo, which is directly related to Plan B's recent award. J, B, P suddenly prominent letters. Then I noticed the big 'M' on clothing in various video clips. I found the logo of the Marounouchi Building in Tokyo, Japan matched almost exactly with Plan B's 'M' and Mobo Awards video clips. What does it mean... except that it was some sort of 'warning'... Perhaps?

Can the collective mind really will something into existence like this? Do we all really have THIS MUCH power in us? The photos below illustrate what I discovered. Notice the thumbnail image for Plan B's single 'Love Goes Down' located on various websites around... it doesn't take much to realise it is the Japanese Navy flag. Taking it even further, remixes of Plan B music come with some tantalizing graphics... as the video below demonstrates.







Watch with the sound off!


I am now on the look out for other similar warning signs. However, the problem remains, how do we recognise them before it's too late?

Sending love to the courageous people of Japan at this time.

Update: Today a so-called friend tried to sell me on joining a pyramid scheme, thinking I am dumb and powerless. She showed me an online presentation, which ended with the words...What's your Plan b ?

Gaddafi and Friends - Smiley Happy People

What a day it’s been today. A cold, wet, and rainy Bank Holiday for Cyprus. But I shouldn't complain.

With all their troubles, like the rebels, the un-sellable oil, having to release the British S.A.S. team, those VIPs (that I always seem to attract) found time to think of me and my predicament.

It appears that Gaddafi heard I was looking for a new job, as I opened my e-mail box today and was stunned to receive this wonderful offer from one of Muammar’s sons…reproduced below. What do you think? Should I reply?


To: undisclosed-recipients:

Date: Mon, 07 Mar 2011 14:20:21 +0200

Subject: Effort to Contact You...Reply Back Asap Status: Normal

CC: From: Muhammad Moammar Gadhafi


Reply-to: muhamgadhafi@gmail.com


Hello
Good Day...

I am urgently in need of your assistance and commitment on this Business that will benefit both of us, If you are interested and willing to be of assistance and support, then contact me on this email below for more details.

Thank you for your understanding.

From,
Muhammad Moammar Gadhafi
(Son Libyan President)
Email: m_mgaddafi@msn.com


Perhaps I'll wait for Mr. Blair to call instead. I heard he's in the area. Israel I believe, on some kind of... peace mission.

Three Colours Red, Blue, or Nothing... You Choose

Today, the last day of the month, saw me being interviewed for a very high-calibre job where I.T. skills are a must, driving to the airport to send off relatives that had over-stayed their New Year’s welcome, and attending my uncle’s funeral. Squeeze in a half hour for lunch.

Does anyone know what ‘the RGB’ is? This is my thousand dollar question for the day, for the month, for the year even. I just lost a lucrative position because I didn’t know what ‘the RGB’ is. I pondered this question while sipping coffee at my Uncle’s wake, and reminiscing about the ‘good old days’, with long-lost and re-discovered cousins.

I’m searching for a new avenue to wander down on the disillusion road, and suddenly find myself thrust back-in-time, as I interview for jobs I use to do a long time ago, and that I am over-qualified for now, only because money talks. Without money in our pockets, we’re dumb and powerless, as opposed to just dumb.

Today, I was made to feel very dumb by a twenty-something over-paid mathematics graduate, because I didn’t know what ‘the RGB’ was. I know I can do just about any job given to me, I can put up with unprofessionalism, and events and scenarios that are contra to my personal values. I can survive the insults; ignore the injustice, all because of the money. What a sell-out I am. What a hypocrite.

If you say to me, “Choose a colour”, I think I can pretty much decide on one without much thought going into it. If you say to me, “Now change that colour”, I’m sure I can make that decision without too much weight on my conscience. It’s not exactly a life or death question. If you instruct me to change ‘the RGB’…well that’s where I stumble.

I realised how colour and light when mixed can affect everything around us, people’s faces, their moods, nature, the cosmos, that feeling in the pit of your stomach. How important is colour in your life? I noticed the sun-weathered faces of the old-folk, the pink skin of the baby, the black suits, the white table cloth, and the blood-shot eyes.

Being selfish, I thought about my own problems. I’ve simply had enough of the abortion clinic now, and the unprofessional way my current employer treats a person, which includes me. I’m sick of seeing those blue and yellow baby blankets, the shiny silver needles, and see-through sample- tubes, white latex gloves, and towels with blood-red accents.

What is ‘the RGB’? It’s the three primary colors of Red, Green, and Blue. Incidentally, when mixed they make white, or as some people like to point out, ‘nothing’.

Nothing cost me a thousand dollars today. What does ‘the RGB’ have to do with business administration or accounts management you may well ask? Absolutely nothing would be my answer. So now I am left, stuck in the box, or matrix, again, nothing really has changed.

I watch the news and see more bodies pulled out of the rubble in Christchurch, New Zealand. I realise that the colour spectrum, and ‘the RGB’, is pretty inconsequential now. I noticed the local airport fill with refugees from the troubles breaking out all over the Middle East, and say to myself, does colour make that much of a difference?

It’s the first day of March of another year, and I’m still questioning myself and my motives. Does ‘the RGB’ really matter? What a crazy immoral world we live in when ‘nothing’ can be more upsetting than the sight of a dead body in the morning. I'll shut up and swallow my pill now.

UPDATE
As it turns out, I've just discovered that the M.D. of the company with the high-calibre job I didn't get because my nerves got the better of me, was a former analyst and associate for ENRON... now there's a nice sync for you!

The Christmas Tree of Life and Knowledge - Good and Evil

The Holy Thorn tree on Wearyall Hill in... Glastonbury, Somerset, is regarded as one of Britain’s most important symbols of Christianity, stretching back for centuries.

According to legend, Saint Joseph of Arimathea travelled to England, landing at the Isle of Avalon, after Christ was crucified, bringing with him the Holy Grail of Arthurian folklore.

He is said to have stuck his wooden staff – which had belonged to Jesus – into the ground on Wearyall Hill before he went to sleep. When he awoke it had sprouted into a thorn tree, which became a natural shrine for Christians across Europe, the Glastonbury Holy Thorn. The tree is renowned for flowering twice a year at Christmas and at Easter.

Because of its associations with Joseph, (he was the Virgin Mary’s uncle), the Holy Thorn is of important spiritual significance for Christians and has come to be regarded as sacred by many others.

The original Holy Thorn was a centre of pilgrimage in the Middle Ages but was chopped down during the English Civil War. A replacement thorn was planted in 1951 on Wearyall Hill, but it had to be replanted the following year. Other examples of the thorn grow in the grounds of Glastonbury Abbey and St Johns Church.

Each year a sprig from another one of the Holy Thorn trees in the town is cut for the Queen, a tradition which dates back more than 100 years. The Queen places the sprig on her dining room table on Christmas Day.

On the morning of 9th December 2010, Glastonbury locals found the sacred tree hacked down to a stump by ‘persons unknown’. A sacrilegious act of violence that has left many Christians shocked and distraught.

The owner of Wearyall Hill is Edward James, 70, who was arrested this week in connection with the collapse of Crown Currency Exchange, of which he is a major shareholder. The company, which has 8,000 creditors, collapsed in October, owing £16 million.

One possibility is that the attack may have been part of a vendetta against Mr. James, who is on police bail. There is no proof; this is just one of the many theories. Another is that anti-Christian groups could be behind the vandalism, an act of defiance during the Christmas season.

Whatever the reason, we can be sure of one thing, whenever a sacred place of pilgrimage is desecrated in this way, terrible tragedy soon follows. I will cite the Buddas of Bamyan in Afghanistan as a prime example of this.

In the encyclopedia of mythology we can read about how trees of all kinds held great spiritual significance. In legends from around the world, trees appear as ladders between worlds, as sources of life and wisdom, and as the physical forms of supernatural beings…

With its roots buried deep in the earth, its trunk above ground and its branches stretching toward the sky, a tree serves as a symbolic, living link between this world and those of supernatural beings. In many myths, a tree is a vital part of the structure of the universe. Gods and their messengers travel from world to world by climbing up or down the tree.

Providers of shade and bearers of fruit, trees have long been associated with life and fertility. Evergreen trees, which remain green all year, became symbols of undying life. Deciduous trees, which lose their leaves in the winter and produce new ones in the spring, symbolized renewal, rebirth after death, or immortality.

Many creation myths draw on trees as symbols of life. In some versions of the Persian creation story a huge tree grew from the rotting corpse of the first human. The trunk separated into a man and a woman, Mashya and Mashyane, and the fruit of the tree became the various races of humankind. Norse mythology says that the first man and woman were an ash and an elm tree given life by the gods.

The tree of life, with sacred animals feeding on fruit-bearing branches, is a common image in the art of the ancient Near East. The tree was associated with palaces and kingship because the king was seen as the link between the earthly and divine realms. Through him, the gods blessed the earth with fertility.

Traditional Persian and Slavic myths both told of a tree of life that bore the seeds of all the world's plants. This tree, which looked like an ordinary tree, was guarded by an invisible dragon that the Persians called Simarghu and the Slavs called Simorg.

For fear of cutting down the tree of life by accident, Slavic peoples performed sacred ceremonies before taking down a tree. The Persians cut no trees but waited for them to fall naturally. In the mythology of the Yoruba people of West Africa, a palm tree planted by the god Obatala was the first piece of vegetation on earth.

Trees and the fruit they bore came to be associated with wisdom, knowledge, or hidden secrets. This meaning may have come from the symbolic connection between trees and worlds above and below human experience. The tree is a symbol of wisdom in stories about the life of Buddha, who was said to have gained spiritual enlightenment while sitting under a bodhi tree.

A traditional Micronesian myth from the Gilbert Islands in the Pacific Ocean is similar to the biblical account of the fall from Eden. In the beginning of the world was a garden where two trees grew, guarded by an original being called Na Kaa.

Men lived under one tree and gathered its fruit, while women lived apart from the men under the other tree. One day when Na Kaa was away on a trip, the men and women mingled together under one of the trees. Upon his return, Na Kaa told them that they had chosen the Tree of Death, not the Tree of Life, and from that time all people would be mortal.

In 723, a Christian missionary named Winfrid (Bishop Boniface) cut down an oak tree sacred to the god Thor. This action is said to mark the beginning of the Christianization of the Germanic peoples. He stripped to the waist, took an axe, and chopped the tree down. As the god Thor did not strike Winfrid dead with a lightning bolt, the German soldiers fell to their knees in reverence and were baptized into the Christian faith.

When I was much younger I visited Glastonbury many times as it was close to my home town. The air is thick with mystery and magic. The area holds a special place in my heart, so I guess this is the reason for today's post. The cutting down of the Holy Thorn tree is clearly a very un-holy thing to do. I hope it does not herald some kind of un-enlightened new age.

Merry Christmas to all!


Sources: Encyclopedia of Mythology, various UK online news sites

From ENRON to Armenia - The Inhuman Network: Part 4

The Armenian Diaspora is thriving in Cyprus, but not so much when it comes to the music industry. You could say it’s non-existent. So this company, that had just acquired one of the most prestigious plots of land in the capital, must surely have a pretty good revenue stream to afford something worth millions of Euros. If there isn’t much money to be made in sales of Armenian folklore music, either home or abroad, what else does the company do?

Looking into the files at my disposal, this little shiny gem of a company immediately turned opaque. Institutions such as ‘Ernst & Young’, ‘KPMG’, were mentioned, but there was nothing seemingly unusual in this. As an employee, I had every right to know if the IRS or any kind of ‘agency’ was about to knock on the door, didn’t I?

The company appeared not to be involved in anything other than DVD and CD production, with an odd concert tour now and then. Those must be pretty expensive CDs, and the tickets for concerts must sell for a pretty penny? Well not so. I knew that the Armenian music we sold was cheap, and concert tickets, as evidenced by a recent tour of Syria, changed hands for mere peanuts.

Does anyone have an idea what it takes to ship over 400 people, and concert equipment, and filming equipment, hundreds of miles to the Middle East, in the middle of July? Especially from Lebanon into a country like Syria, where you need a visa to walk from point A to point B at the airport? Seriously, it’s as crazy as going hiking in Iran. You just don’t do it. Not for a concert ticket with the face value of twelve dollars.

When equipment brakes down in the middle of a public performance, how is it possible to get new equipment shipped into the country overnight, crossing border checkpoints and custom clearance agents to reach the stage by 2.pm the following day? So quick and easy, no questions asked.

Lebanon, Syria, Armenia, interesting countries with plenty of connections to Cyprus no doubt. It’s reasonable to assume that the revenue stream must originate from one of these areas.

The Lebanese Connection

Before ENRON, there was a financial accounting scandal that rocked the upper echelons of the corporate finance world, and caused many high-flyers to literally jump out of the penthouse window, but it’s all forgotten now. Lost under a deep pile of mud, I was caused to dig it up one day while curiosity got the better of me again. I discovered something quite bizarre in the process.

To get back to the original question of who or what this company really is? To understand this you have to ask another question. Who is this Client? It’s relatively easy in the digital age, where the Internet speeds the access to information. Not like the old days of quiet libraries and dusty old parchment. There is a wealth of information at our fingertips and you don’t have to be a research scientist to decipher it anymore.

Reading through some online newspaper articles penned by reputable investigative journalists, and some tedious court papers, and US government documents, a picture began to emerge. Coupling this with the ‘chatter’ on various web forums, I picked up on some unflattering things being said about him. I won’t repeat them here nor will I mention his name. There are a lot of sources of information which make for interesting reading (see end of article).

Apart from being the Godfather of my old boss, he is the CEO of a myriad of companies based in Lebanon and Armenia. He’s involved in diverse industries like carpet manufacturing to hot water boilers, and imports and exports for various industries. He owns a few hotels, and a couple of restaurants. He is 100% shareholder of the company I use to work for, and has links to the USA, Canada, France, and Singapore. He started out, together with his brother, inheriting their father’s business interests, and slowly building a quiet empire in the middle-east, a post-1982 Beirut as his command centre.

On reading the articles and court papers things started to click into place, but in a most unexpected way. In my fervent search for more information I stumbled upon an article over at whatdoesitmean.com on April 9th, 2009, not the most reliable site I will admit, outlining among other things, news about the world’s elite controllers in the process of building underground bunkers to protect themselves from the coming destruction.

Did I hear someone say conspiracy theorists? That maybe so but stick with me… I remembered the approximate date (around January 2009) when building started on our expensive underground recording studio in Armenia. Work was abruptly halted in May when, strangely enough, noise problems from an underground (metro) tube connection were detected. Apparently nobody thought to test the noise level from the nearby trains before giving permission to build a ‘sound studio’ below. Incompetence or something more sinister?

I knew we bought expensive recording and editing suites, we hired freelancers to travel from Germany to test our systems, and we commissioned world renowned music producers to film our concerts. The boss would travel to France and Germany, to London and back, to Lebanon and back, all in the name of Armenian folklore music.

I read an e-mail that was freely available to me in my inbox where the client had filed a law suit in a California court to recover monies lost from a past concert tour organiser. The lawyer for the defendant mentioned ‘all that stuff on the Internet about you’. What could he mean? Like a ‘no trespassing sign’, I had to take a look. This is where things get really weird.

The client, our benefactor, was also embroiled in the Lernout & Hauspie scandal of 1996 as a private investor. It was the biggest fraud case pre-ENRON, where KPMG were accused of ‘creative accounting’. His name is mentioned along with the unflattering term ‘money-laundering’, on blogs and news articles surrounding the scandal. In brief, he made a 36 million dollar bank transfer on behalf of the speech recognition company.

Now it gets really really weird. The sloppy accounting led to further investigation. It has since emerged Lernout & Hauspie’s revolutionary listening, recording and deciphering technology (some of which has been used by Microsoft) was developed primarily for German Intelligence to spy on the Middle East – a story that was broken by the Belgium newspaper De Standaard in 2001.

Accountants had made a mistake trying to hide the huge sums of money moving around front companies. Nobody thought anyone would notice the link between the Western intelligence agencies and a new tech company like Lernout & Hauspie.

I began to wonder if the crazy underground recording studio that my boss was building was actually a secret bunker, or even a government listening/deciphering station. Had I seen too many movies and this was just another one of those strange coincidences? Why was the recording studio big enough to house ten large families? What was really under that raised access parquet floor?

It was Christmas 2009, and shortly after discovering the link between our Client and German intelligence I was ‘made redundant’. Another coincidence? One can only speculate. How do I get myself into these situations? Why does my curiosity get the better of me every time? I continually find myself drawn into strange circumstances by accident or design.

Now my career direction has taken a different turn, and I work for a ‘family clinic’ which regularly carries out abortions. Yet again, no one asks questions, everything is done matter-of-factly; no one is looking or saying much, as babies are vacuumed, or scooped up, and put in a green bag to be collected on Monday mornings. Just like the empty suitcases at the old job, no one touches them nor looks inside, nobody asks questions. It’s obvious they’re destined for some other place far far away. I wonder… is anyone listening?


Online Sources/Links:

http://www.heise.de/tp/r4/artikel/4/4607/1.html
http://web.archive.org/web/20060420133237/http://www2.gol.com/users/coynerhm/how_high.htm
http://www.computer.org/portal/web/csdl/doi/10.1109/HICSS.2004.1265626
http://www.nytimes.com/2004/10/08/business/08audit.html?_r=1
http://www.the10b-5daily.com/archives/000311.html
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB107930245364754839-search.html?collection=autowire%252F30day&vql_string=lernout%253Cin%253E%2528article%252Dbody%2529
http://www.ca1.uscourts.gov/pdf.opinions/03-2704-01A.pdf
http://www.sec.gov/litigation/litreleases/lr17782.htm
http://www.sec.gov/litigation/complaints/comp17782.htm
http://www.coursehero.com/file/2891046/2003819f01c0311566/