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			| Well, I'm not sure what to make of that. It suggests either that I am Barbelith's answer to Don Rickles or Triumph the Insult Comedy Dog, or that I am, I dunno, Metron to Granny's Apokalips or something. Can that be right? I never had any problem with Granny; whatever hullaballoo happened seemed, from my very, very distant and utterly uninterested purview, like another one of Barbelith's little picnics in Room 101; yet I get the feeling the comparison might be a little fraught?			 |   
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