Springfield too close to call. But I bet Capital City tends Democrat.
Also, there are other elements to consider. Springfield has a fundamentalist school, and despite Reverend Lovejoy's idea of a good church service, there seem to be a lot of churchgoers, particularly given that there are several other churches. So this suggests that the Ned Flanders factor may be rather hefty in Springfield. This suggests that there's a hefty Further, I think Krusty is explicitly a Republican in one episode (as is Dr. Hibbert, but they got him right). Springfield also used to have a nearby military base, but as it has since closed, there might not be any lingering after-effects. But Birch Barlow, a Rush Limbaugh figure, apparently has a very large audience in Springfield; and Rainier Wolfcastle would, no doubt, be a major fundraising force for the Republicans. Carl and Lenny, though, are certainly Democrats (Carl admires Ted Kennedy for his integrity, for instance).
This all reminds me of my two favorite Simpsons politics one-liners:
No children have ever meddled with the Republican Party and lived to tell about it. - Sideshow Bob
Oh my God...the dead have risen and they're voting Republican. - Bart
Both of these, of course, are from the Sideshow Bob Roberts episode.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Augustine and the Measure of Time (Part III)
If time is not something mental, then we would have to give some reason for considering it as something more than a measure. The basic Augustinian point, however, would still remain, since our only way of measuring time out is purely mental (and, for any given time, purely present). This raises some interesting questions if we apply it to the A-series and B-series perspectives. Both would have to regard temporal measurement as being carried out entirely by mental operations in the present. We have no instruments for directly measuring temporal variation; even clocks only present regular motions for comparison with other motions, and the 'time' dimension of clocks is measured out by mental remembering, attending, and expecting. We have no acquaintance with temporal differences outside these mental operations.
Does this mean, then that the A-series view is right in putting all the emphasis on the existential priority of the present? Some might argue that, inasmuch as all time is measured only in the present, the present clearly has a certain degree of priority. However, Augustine's position, as was noted above, is perfectly congenial to a tenseless view that makes all times to be on a level, and simply holds that times only are inasmuch as they are when they are present. Time's being measured in the present only means that to have a measure we must be able to attend to it, and operation which marks out the present as a measure of the way in which things are ('present' marks out those things that are present to us). As some proponents of a tenseless view of time have noted, the A-series measures of past, present, and future can be accounted for in terms of belief or mental attitude; and this, in fact, is precisely what Augustine does.
On such a note one might be tempted to say that the Augustinian position leads us right into a B-series position. However, the tenseless proponent has to deal with the moment-bound status of our measurements. If we only are able to measure out the extesnion fo a time interval at some particular time t, then the tensed proponents seem to be onto something when they claim that we start with the present, to which alone we have direct access. This, too, is precisely what Augustine does.
All this is just to say that Augustine's argument doe snot require us to hold either an A-seris or a B-series view of time. The argument goes a little deeper, however, inasmuch as it raises questions for either side--and what is more, precisely the sorts of intuitive questions either side raises against the other. Perhaps more importantly, it shows tha tour measuring 'devices', i.e., our mental operations, with regard to time, do not give us any real clue as to the existence of anything in the world that is either tensed or tenseless. If the A-series or B-series proponents wish to argue that their view indicates something ontological about the world, independently of the manner in which we measure motion in the world, they have to answer the question, "How do we have access to this ontological something independently of the measuring operations of the mind?" For the measuring operations of the mind, if Augustine's position holds, would not seem to bias us one way or the other.
This suggest that there may be a third position, falling into neither the A-series camp nor the B-series camp. On this position the things of the world are neither tensed nor tenselessly time-indexed. Rather, they are potentially measured in either of these ways--they are not themselves tensed, but only tensible, not in themselves time-indexed, but only time-indexable. On such a position, the A-series and the B-series are just two methods of measurement that pick up on different features of this capability for measurement. Their truth-value differences, in turn, would be differences relative to the method of measurement. The two woul be indicating precisely the same reality in differnet vocabularies, and the dispute would then be largely a matter of talking past each other. I say 'largely' because it would still be possible to claim that one is a better method of measurement than the other; but on this position that would be the strongest claim that either side could make. Such a position has the advantage that it does not require a further step beyond Augustine's point about measurement, but simply holds that, as far as considerations about the ontological status of time go, that is as far as anyone need take it.
Does this mean, then that the A-series view is right in putting all the emphasis on the existential priority of the present? Some might argue that, inasmuch as all time is measured only in the present, the present clearly has a certain degree of priority. However, Augustine's position, as was noted above, is perfectly congenial to a tenseless view that makes all times to be on a level, and simply holds that times only are inasmuch as they are when they are present. Time's being measured in the present only means that to have a measure we must be able to attend to it, and operation which marks out the present as a measure of the way in which things are ('present' marks out those things that are present to us). As some proponents of a tenseless view of time have noted, the A-series measures of past, present, and future can be accounted for in terms of belief or mental attitude; and this, in fact, is precisely what Augustine does.
On such a note one might be tempted to say that the Augustinian position leads us right into a B-series position. However, the tenseless proponent has to deal with the moment-bound status of our measurements. If we only are able to measure out the extesnion fo a time interval at some particular time t, then the tensed proponents seem to be onto something when they claim that we start with the present, to which alone we have direct access. This, too, is precisely what Augustine does.
All this is just to say that Augustine's argument doe snot require us to hold either an A-seris or a B-series view of time. The argument goes a little deeper, however, inasmuch as it raises questions for either side--and what is more, precisely the sorts of intuitive questions either side raises against the other. Perhaps more importantly, it shows tha tour measuring 'devices', i.e., our mental operations, with regard to time, do not give us any real clue as to the existence of anything in the world that is either tensed or tenseless. If the A-series or B-series proponents wish to argue that their view indicates something ontological about the world, independently of the manner in which we measure motion in the world, they have to answer the question, "How do we have access to this ontological something independently of the measuring operations of the mind?" For the measuring operations of the mind, if Augustine's position holds, would not seem to bias us one way or the other.
This suggest that there may be a third position, falling into neither the A-series camp nor the B-series camp. On this position the things of the world are neither tensed nor tenselessly time-indexed. Rather, they are potentially measured in either of these ways--they are not themselves tensed, but only tensible, not in themselves time-indexed, but only time-indexable. On such a position, the A-series and the B-series are just two methods of measurement that pick up on different features of this capability for measurement. Their truth-value differences, in turn, would be differences relative to the method of measurement. The two woul be indicating precisely the same reality in differnet vocabularies, and the dispute would then be largely a matter of talking past each other. I say 'largely' because it would still be possible to claim that one is a better method of measurement than the other; but on this position that would be the strongest claim that either side could make. Such a position has the advantage that it does not require a further step beyond Augustine's point about measurement, but simply holds that, as far as considerations about the ontological status of time go, that is as far as anyone need take it.
Augustine and the Measure of Time (Part II)
Since neither past nor future things are now, when we are measuring time they must "somehow exist in the mind, for otherwise I do not see them; there is present of thigns past, memory; present of things present, sight; present of things future, expectation" (246). We are time-oriented creatures through memory, perception, and anticipation. This allows for the beginnings of a solution, since this fills out Augustine's claim that we measure time not as it is past but as it passes. We begin to say a word, say it, and finish saying it; before we said it, it was future. As such it could not be measured, since it did not yet exist; having finished it, we can no longer measure it. Measuring time,then, is something that happens while things are going on, which feeds into the key puzzle. When Augustine says, "Deus, Creator omnium," the verse has both short and long syllables. He can measure a long syllable by a short syllable and find it to be double. how then does he detain one syllable to compare it to another? The measuring of itnervals explicitly requires that the interval measured has already finished; and on this basis Augustine says, "It is not then themselves, which no longer exist, that I measure, but something in my memory, which remains fixed there" (253). He goes on to say:
The measurement of time, therefore, is due to our mental capacities for considering, remembering, and expecting in such a way that "what it expects, through what it considers, passes into what it remembers" (254).
Augustine's solution seems to make time something mental. Despite any of the apparent objectsion ("Do not interrupt me by clamoring that time has objective existence!"), there is a certain sophistication to the theory: time is simply a particular way in which we regard changing things. It has the advantage that under it we are not tempted to reify time; and it has the added advantage of fitting especially well with all those of our intuitions that treat time as a measure. If time is a measuring out of entities, however, and that measurment is accomplished entirely by the different attitudes of the mind, time is something mental precisely insofar as it is a measure.
(Part III)
It is in you, O my mind, that I measure time. Do not interrrupt me by clamoring that time has objective existence! I measure time in you. The impression which things cause in you as they pass by remains even when they are gone. This, which is still present, is what I measure, not those things which have passed by to make this impression. This is what I measure when I measure time. Either, then, this is time, or I do not measure time. (254)
The measurement of time, therefore, is due to our mental capacities for considering, remembering, and expecting in such a way that "what it expects, through what it considers, passes into what it remembers" (254).
Augustine's solution seems to make time something mental. Despite any of the apparent objectsion ("Do not interrupt me by clamoring that time has objective existence!"), there is a certain sophistication to the theory: time is simply a particular way in which we regard changing things. It has the advantage that under it we are not tempted to reify time; and it has the added advantage of fitting especially well with all those of our intuitions that treat time as a measure. If time is a measuring out of entities, however, and that measurment is accomplished entirely by the different attitudes of the mind, time is something mental precisely insofar as it is a measure.
(Part III)
Augustine and the Measure of Time (Part I)
[These are an extended set of rough notes that I came across when doing some housecleaning. They are several years old, and I don't know that I would say the same things today; but they seemed interesting enough, so I thought I'd post them. References to the Confessions are to the Helms translation put out by Paraclete Press. There will, I think, be three in all. For those who haven't a clue what 'A-series and B-series is, this provides a convenient slide-show summary.]
It is sometimes said that Augustine held a view of time in which only the present exists, on the basis of what he says in the Confessions. I would like to suggest that Augustine is actually engaged in discussing a much more fundamental issue, one that must arise for proponents of the 'A-series' or the 'B-series' alike. Considering this issue, which has to do with temporal measurement, raises interesting questions for both views of time, and suggests a possible third position.
The discussion of time in Book XI of the Confessions first sets out the problem in a general way:
As Augustine further develops this line of thought, it is clear that the issue that concerns him is bound up in the fact that we measure intervals of time. We call soem times short and some times long, whether those times are said to be past, present, or future. The question then arises, "in what sense is something long or short which does not exist? For the past is not now, and the future is not yet" (242). Augustine considers a response to this which says taht we should not say the past or the future "is" long, but "has been" or "will be" long; but, as he notes, this does not actually remove the real point at issue. The same basic question arises: In what sense can we ascribe extension ("long" or "short") to any time? Someone might be tempted to say that it had or will have extension when it was or will be present, but once again this fails to evade the major issue involved. How are we to take this present?
The trouble with all these attempts to geta round the problem is that all our measuring of time is itself time-conditioned. Unlike spatial measurement, in time measurement we cannot stand outside what we are measuring and stretch some measuring device along the whole of its extension. Our measurements of time cannot occur except entirely at a particular time. This is a problem any view of tiem will have to face. Suppose we mentally mark out when a race begins and when it ends. We cannot, as we could with spatial measurement, step back and compare the two marks, because we do nto have access to the temporal marks that we do with spatial marks. Any comparison of the beginning and ending mark will not be a direct comparison of marks. All our measurements of teh extension of time occur entirely in some present or at some time t. We seem to have no way of measuring time (in any clear sense of the word 'measuring') at all. It is nevertheless certainly true that we perceive and compare intervals of time. The question Augustine raises is that of how we do so:
This may sound something like the claim that only the present exists (where 'exists' is presumably understood tenselessly). I doubt, however, that htis can be any more than an anachronistic reading. Augustine, of course, is nto familiar with McTaggart's A-series/B-series distinction; and the most natural way of reading Augsutine's claim is simply that times are only when they are; and when they are what we call 'past' or 'future' they either no longer are, or are not yet--truisms on any perspective. Indeed, any theory of time that somehow failed to encapsulate these points woul be nothing more than the denial that there really is time--i.e., that there really is a difference between any given 'now' and 'then'. The 'now' or the 'then', of course, may be fixed in either A-series style or B-series style. In any case, denying that only the present exists would not remove the Augustinian problem; how we measure an interval of time without some sort of direct access to the whole interval remains a question. Even if Augustine were assuming an extreme view of time, the problem (and, I think, the solution) he gives are not limited to that view, because it is a much more fundamental problem than the problems that generate these different views. There is, however, evidence in the text that Augustine is not so clearly committed to the claim that only the present exists (taken tenselessly), since in several places he seriously considers the idea that past and future really are, and after much discussion denies that they do in a way that shows that he would take the 'exists' in "only the present exists" to be simply present-tensed, not tenseless. In particular, he notes that our memory's access to the past does nto give us access to past things, but only to present traces of things past, "words which are conceived from the images of things which they have left as traces in the mind in their passage through the senses" (245). Our measurement of the past and the future as if they were present is not an access to the past and the future as themselves present; hence the problem.
(Part II)
It is sometimes said that Augustine held a view of time in which only the present exists, on the basis of what he says in the Confessions. I would like to suggest that Augustine is actually engaged in discussing a much more fundamental issue, one that must arise for proponents of the 'A-series' or the 'B-series' alike. Considering this issue, which has to do with temporal measurement, raises interesting questions for both views of time, and suggests a possible third position.
The discussion of time in Book XI of the Confessions first sets out the problem in a general way:
Yet I say boldly that I know that if nothing passed away there would be no time past. And if nothing were coming, there would be no future time. And if there were nothing, there would be no present time. Those two times, then, past and future--how are they, when the past is no longer and the future is not yet? But should the present always be present and never pass into time past, truly it would not be time, but eternity. (241-242)
As Augustine further develops this line of thought, it is clear that the issue that concerns him is bound up in the fact that we measure intervals of time. We call soem times short and some times long, whether those times are said to be past, present, or future. The question then arises, "in what sense is something long or short which does not exist? For the past is not now, and the future is not yet" (242). Augustine considers a response to this which says taht we should not say the past or the future "is" long, but "has been" or "will be" long; but, as he notes, this does not actually remove the real point at issue. The same basic question arises: In what sense can we ascribe extension ("long" or "short") to any time? Someone might be tempted to say that it had or will have extension when it was or will be present, but once again this fails to evade the major issue involved. How are we to take this present?
If any portion of time is conceived, which cannot now be divided into even the minutest particles of moments, that alone is what may be called present. And that flies by with such speed from future to past tthat it cannot be lengthened out in the least, for if it is extended, it is divided between past and future. The present has no extension or length. (243)
The trouble with all these attempts to geta round the problem is that all our measuring of time is itself time-conditioned. Unlike spatial measurement, in time measurement we cannot stand outside what we are measuring and stretch some measuring device along the whole of its extension. Our measurements of time cannot occur except entirely at a particular time. This is a problem any view of tiem will have to face. Suppose we mentally mark out when a race begins and when it ends. We cannot, as we could with spatial measurement, step back and compare the two marks, because we do nto have access to the temporal marks that we do with spatial marks. Any comparison of the beginning and ending mark will not be a direct comparison of marks. All our measurements of teh extension of time occur entirely in some present or at some time t. We seem to have no way of measuring time (in any clear sense of the word 'measuring') at all. It is nevertheless certainly true that we perceive and compare intervals of time. The question Augustine raises is that of how we do so:
We even measure how much longer or shorter this time is than that; and we answer,"This is double, or treble, while this other is but once, or only just as long as that." But we measure times as they are passing, by perceiving them. But past times, which no longer are, or future times, which are not yet, who can measure? Unless, perhaps, anyone would dare to say that what is not can be measured. When, therefore, time is passing, it can be perceived and measured; but when it is past, it cannot, because it is not. (244)
This may sound something like the claim that only the present exists (where 'exists' is presumably understood tenselessly). I doubt, however, that htis can be any more than an anachronistic reading. Augustine, of course, is nto familiar with McTaggart's A-series/B-series distinction; and the most natural way of reading Augsutine's claim is simply that times are only when they are; and when they are what we call 'past' or 'future' they either no longer are, or are not yet--truisms on any perspective. Indeed, any theory of time that somehow failed to encapsulate these points woul be nothing more than the denial that there really is time--i.e., that there really is a difference between any given 'now' and 'then'. The 'now' or the 'then', of course, may be fixed in either A-series style or B-series style. In any case, denying that only the present exists would not remove the Augustinian problem; how we measure an interval of time without some sort of direct access to the whole interval remains a question. Even if Augustine were assuming an extreme view of time, the problem (and, I think, the solution) he gives are not limited to that view, because it is a much more fundamental problem than the problems that generate these different views. There is, however, evidence in the text that Augustine is not so clearly committed to the claim that only the present exists (taken tenselessly), since in several places he seriously considers the idea that past and future really are, and after much discussion denies that they do in a way that shows that he would take the 'exists' in "only the present exists" to be simply present-tensed, not tenseless. In particular, he notes that our memory's access to the past does nto give us access to past things, but only to present traces of things past, "words which are conceived from the images of things which they have left as traces in the mind in their passage through the senses" (245). Our measurement of the past and the future as if they were present is not an access to the past and the future as themselves present; hence the problem.
(Part II)
Monday, November 15, 2004
End of Story
A good post by Michael Spencer at "Boar's Head Tavern" on eschatology. Now you know what to say when the subject comes up.
The Boar's Head Tavern, by the way, is one of the more interesting group blogs in the blogosphere. Group blogging is rather hard to do, and every group blog tends to be different. They tend, however, to fall into two groups, which I will call 'discrete' and 'conversational'. Most group blogs are discrete. In a discrete group blog, most of the posts are relatively self-standing; they are mini-essays of some sort. In a conversational group blog, on the other hand, the blog functions as a sort of chat room; posts are largely not self-standing, since they are usually responses to other posts or initiating posts. Comments functions give discrete group blogs some of the benefits of conversational group blogging, but only to an extent; conversational blogs can, of course, at any time throw in a self-standing post, although if these are too common they dampen the conversation. As it turns out, conversational group blogs are very hard to do; they're harder to keep up and you have to have a group capable of being civil over a wide range of subjects. The Boar's Head is one of the most successful of the conversational group blogs; the only other really successful conversational group blog that comes to mind is NRO's The Corner, although I'm sure there are probably one or two more from different parts of the spectrum. Conversational group blogs are a bit like soap operas - if you leave them a bit and come back to them, it doesn't take long before you're reading right alone with the flow of the conversation. They also tend not to be very deep, although there are always gems (the Boar's Head is partly successful, I think, because it has so many), like Spencer's post above, or the hilarious (to me, anyway) conversation of which this post at The Corner is a part.
The Boar's Head Tavern, by the way, is one of the more interesting group blogs in the blogosphere. Group blogging is rather hard to do, and every group blog tends to be different. They tend, however, to fall into two groups, which I will call 'discrete' and 'conversational'. Most group blogs are discrete. In a discrete group blog, most of the posts are relatively self-standing; they are mini-essays of some sort. In a conversational group blog, on the other hand, the blog functions as a sort of chat room; posts are largely not self-standing, since they are usually responses to other posts or initiating posts. Comments functions give discrete group blogs some of the benefits of conversational group blogging, but only to an extent; conversational blogs can, of course, at any time throw in a self-standing post, although if these are too common they dampen the conversation. As it turns out, conversational group blogs are very hard to do; they're harder to keep up and you have to have a group capable of being civil over a wide range of subjects. The Boar's Head is one of the most successful of the conversational group blogs; the only other really successful conversational group blog that comes to mind is NRO's The Corner, although I'm sure there are probably one or two more from different parts of the spectrum. Conversational group blogs are a bit like soap operas - if you leave them a bit and come back to them, it doesn't take long before you're reading right alone with the flow of the conversation. They also tend not to be very deep, although there are always gems (the Boar's Head is partly successful, I think, because it has so many), like Spencer's post above, or the hilarious (to me, anyway) conversation of which this post at The Corner is a part.
Philosophers' Carnival V
The newest Philosophers' Carnival is up at Ciceronian Review. My contribution was the recent post on Shepherd's theory of causation. There are quite a few good posts this time around, so go and see.
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Why I Believe in Free Will: Point # 3
I'm slowly churning out a series here; and by slowly, I mean that I haven't even gotten around to the point of the series yet. As I noted in the beginning, some of the points in the series are very indirect, and the first two certainly were. I'm still not going to be talking about free choice itself yet, but I get a bit closer by looking at the opposing position. I still haven't worked out the formulation of this point to my satisfaction, and in itself it's a limite one, but I think it's interesting.
Point # 3: Determinism has problem giving content to possibility.
(Keep in mind that by 'determinism' I mean a causal thesis.)
We often say that something (let's call it A) might have been different. One way of understanding this is to take it to imply that A could have been different if and only if A's causes had been different. This is, in fact, often the case; when I'm talking about what could have been different about the way a stone fell to the ground, I don't usually go about assuming that the stone had its own power to fall differently than it did, but that (e.g.) the interposition of different causes would have changed the way it fell to the ground.
The only way there is real possibility here, however, is if the causes themselves could have been different - otherwise, the discussion is per impossibile and (as one might guess) that doesn't bode too well for allowing genuine possibility. So to explain the possibility of A's being different, we have pushed the matter back to the possibility of A's causes' being different, and this has to be a genuine possibilty or we have actually mired ourselves in a contradiction. On the assumption that A's being different is really possible, our explanation of that possibility has to allow for it genuinely to be a possibility.
You can tell, I'm sure, where this is heading. I see four responses that can be made to this problem:
a) infinite regress;
b) the achievement of state by appeal to mere chance;
c) the achievement of state by appeal to a cause 'not determined to one';
d) the denial that anything is genuinely possible, other than what actually is.
(a) is contradictory unless it is combined with (d); so (a) as it were collapses into (d). (c) is anti-determinist and so would presumably want to be avoided by a determinist. This leaves (b) and (d). I have no knock-down response to (b); in part because I have difficulty seeing what it would actually be. For (b) to be the case, we must at some point reach a level or system that allows for chance; and in that case it would seem to be the level or system that really does the grounding of possibility. So (b) seems to collapse either into (c) or (d); I don't see any way to maintain it on its own.
So this suggests that the real account of possibility has to be either in terms of (c) or (d). And, indeed, I think both of these have merit; (d), for instance, is a little counterintuitive, but there are a great many clever ways to allow for (d) that still allow us to talk about possibilities without giving any real metaphysical status to them. So I don't consider this Point to be a refutation of determinism, or anything of the sort. Its significance is that it is a bottleneck associated with a number of more serious issues; thus I am getting it out in the open before those issues come up.
According to my notes, the next few points will deal with issues more strictly relevant to the topic of free will. So I'm getting around to the actual subject of the series! Yay!
Point # 3: Determinism has problem giving content to possibility.
(Keep in mind that by 'determinism' I mean a causal thesis.)
We often say that something (let's call it A) might have been different. One way of understanding this is to take it to imply that A could have been different if and only if A's causes had been different. This is, in fact, often the case; when I'm talking about what could have been different about the way a stone fell to the ground, I don't usually go about assuming that the stone had its own power to fall differently than it did, but that (e.g.) the interposition of different causes would have changed the way it fell to the ground.
The only way there is real possibility here, however, is if the causes themselves could have been different - otherwise, the discussion is per impossibile and (as one might guess) that doesn't bode too well for allowing genuine possibility. So to explain the possibility of A's being different, we have pushed the matter back to the possibility of A's causes' being different, and this has to be a genuine possibilty or we have actually mired ourselves in a contradiction. On the assumption that A's being different is really possible, our explanation of that possibility has to allow for it genuinely to be a possibility.
You can tell, I'm sure, where this is heading. I see four responses that can be made to this problem:
a) infinite regress;
b) the achievement of state by appeal to mere chance;
c) the achievement of state by appeal to a cause 'not determined to one';
d) the denial that anything is genuinely possible, other than what actually is.
(a) is contradictory unless it is combined with (d); so (a) as it were collapses into (d). (c) is anti-determinist and so would presumably want to be avoided by a determinist. This leaves (b) and (d). I have no knock-down response to (b); in part because I have difficulty seeing what it would actually be. For (b) to be the case, we must at some point reach a level or system that allows for chance; and in that case it would seem to be the level or system that really does the grounding of possibility. So (b) seems to collapse either into (c) or (d); I don't see any way to maintain it on its own.
So this suggests that the real account of possibility has to be either in terms of (c) or (d). And, indeed, I think both of these have merit; (d), for instance, is a little counterintuitive, but there are a great many clever ways to allow for (d) that still allow us to talk about possibilities without giving any real metaphysical status to them. So I don't consider this Point to be a refutation of determinism, or anything of the sort. Its significance is that it is a bottleneck associated with a number of more serious issues; thus I am getting it out in the open before those issues come up.
According to my notes, the next few points will deal with issues more strictly relevant to the topic of free will. So I'm getting around to the actual subject of the series! Yay!
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