Showing posts with label Liz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Liz. Show all posts

That Power That Comes With Reviewing And Interviewing

Red Review: Sims Social

Hunter Red is sitting in his house. Things of all kinds are piled up everywhere. There is very little room to move inside Hunter's house. Hunter is sitting in his big, comfy, oversized chair looking at the utter clutter.

Hunter Red- Man, my place is crammed. There's hardly any room to breathe in here, much less room. How am I supposed to attract a woman with a place this cluttered? I need more space.

Hunter Red pulls out his iPad and starts fiddling around with it.

Hunter Red- Hmmm. A ten by ten living space for twenty-four thousand simoleons. Kind of expensive, but I think I can just about afford it.

Hunter Red presses an icon on his iPad.

Hunter Red- Maneuver it over to this side, flip it add a door, and I'm done.

Hunter Red sets down his iPad. Suddenly, on one of the walls, a door appears. Hunter looks at the door and says-

Hunter Red- Kind of a simplistic design, but it'll do.

Hunter Red steps through the door and find a new, clean, clear, perfectly white room attached to his house. Hunter looks around the room and says-

Hunter Red- Great! Now to fill it with things.

Hunter Red picks up his iPad and starts fiddling with it again. Suddenly things start flying into Hunter's new room from all directions. There's a new TV, piano, drawing easel, sandwich press, hottub, king size bed, ice sculpture, all sorts of other things. So many things fly into Hunter's now formerly clean and clear room that now the new room is just as cluttered as the old room. Hunter looks around this newly cluttered room and says-

Hunter Red- Looks like I need more space, but I don't have the cash to do it.

Hunter Red look at his laptop and says-

Hunter Red- Looks like it's time to get to work. Too bad. I meant to woo-hoo this random girl from France today.

Hunter Red sits down at his laptop and starts Writing Blog Posts for one simoleon a piece untill the scene ends.


Sim Social: A-







The Red Interview- Hideo Kojima

It is just before the show is to begin and Julia Diana Bobbi look absolutely frantic.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

Liz is backstage and comes over to talk to Julia.

Liz- Julia, what's going on?
Julia Diana Bobbi- Liz, I don't- I mean- Oh Christ!
Liz- Julia, calm down. Take a deep breath and tell me what's going on.

Julia takes several deep breaths and begins to calm down.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Sorry. I'm a bit frazzled.
Liz- What's going on?
Julia Diana Bobbi- I'm not prepared for this interview I'm about to do.
Liz- The Red Interview with Hideo Kojima?
Julia Diana Bobbi- Yes. I've been going around town preparing for Christmas, and it just slipped my mind.
Liz- Okay. Can we call it off?
Julia Diana Bobbi- No. There's a full crowd, Mr. Kojima is here, I can't call it off.
Liz- Relax.

Liz starts to look around the backstage area. She sees something on a table that causes her eyes to light up. It is the latest edition of Rolling Stone.

Liz picks it up and flips through it finds an interview with Bob Seger. Liz hand the interview to Julia.

Liz- Here, use this.
Julia Diana Bobbi- What, this interview?
Liz- Yes. Repurpose the questions from this interview for the interview tonight.
Julia Diana Bobbi- But what if the questions don't fit?
Liz- A good interviewer can make anything look. Now, go!

Liz pushes Julia out onto the stage. The crowd in the theater erupts in applause at the sight of her. Julia takes a seat on an elevated platform and begins the show.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Good evening, and welcome to The Red Interview. Tonight, we have an iconic force in entertainment. Please welcome Hideo Kojima.

Hideo Kojima walks out on the stage and joins Julia on the elevated platform.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Mr. Kojima, it is so nice to have you here.
Hideo Kojima- The pleasure is all mine.
Julia Diana Bobbi- You've been in the country for some time promoting your latest work. What are your best memories from this tour so far?
Hideo Kojima- Well, a clear highlight for me is my appearance on the Spike Video Game Awards. That appearance didn't go quite as smoothly as I would have liked, but it was great to interact with the fans and see their reaction to my latest project.

Julia starts fumbling around with the magazine in her hands.

Julia Diana Bobbi- What amazes you about Springsteen?
Hideo Kojima- Excuse me?
Julia Diana Bobbi- You know, Bruce Springsteen?
Hideo Kojima- The Boss.
Julia Diana Bobbi- Yes.
Hideo Kojima- One of the things that amazes me the most about Bruce Springsteen is his longevity in music business. It is one of my sincere hopes to have the longtime impact that an artist like The Boss has had in my particular line of work.

Julia against starts fumbling around with the magazine.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Um, in addition to TV shows and online, your work is also talked about on the radio. When was the first time you heard your work talked about on the radio?
Hideo Kojima- Radio? They still have that?

Julia against starts fumbling around with the magazine.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Do you remember where you were when you first heard "Night Moves"?
Hideo Kojima- Night Moves? Is that a real thing?
Julia Diana Bobbi- I believe so.
Hideo Kojima- I thought that was just a thing from Children's Hospital.

Julia against starts fumbling around with the magazine.

Julia Diana Bobbi- I once heard John Fogerty say that he wrote songs while staring at a blank wall. Do you have any secret techniques?
Hideo Kojima- Not really. I do like reading in depth history books and drawing inspiration from the political intrigues of the past, but any people do that. I could say that I write my video games high, but I don't do that and many people do that anyway.

Julia against starts fumbling around with the magazine.

Julia Diana Bobbi- When will we get to see you again?
Hideo Kojima- I can't really talk about that, but let's just say I am formulating plans for E3.

Julia against starts fumbling around with the magazine.

Julia Diana Bobbi- You look like you've lost weight recently.
Hideo Kojima- I do?

Julia against starts fumbling around with the magazine.

Julia Diana Bobbi- So when will you pass out tonight?
Hideo Kojima- I don't pass out much anymore. I used to back when I was first programming games. That resulted in a lot of good work coming out but also resulted in me becoming really unhealthy. In recent years, I've gotten better about time management. Some would argue that has resulted in my work not living up to my previous standard, but those people can blow me.
Julia Diana Bobbi- Okay, well that is all for The Red Interview for tonight. I'd like to thank my guest, Hideo Kojima, as well as the studio audience and you the viewer for watching. Goodnight.

The stage goes dark as Julia hurriedly rushes off, leaving Hideo Kojima to sit on the raised platform in complete darkness.


END SCENE

Unnecessary Senseless Pounding, Seriously

Unnecessary Senseless Pounding, Seriously

Julia Diana Bobbi is sitting in her office typing on her computer. Liz comes in to talk to Julia. Throughout this scene, Hunter Red is pounding away on the office door of his boss, Rodger Red, and yelling "Rodger!" Hunter Red's fruitless yelling and pounding is especially pronounced during the lulls in the conversation.

Liz- Hey.
Julia Diana Bobbi- Hey.
Liz- What are you working on?
Julia Diana Bobbi- Nothing in particular. I'm actually doing some research.
Liz- About what?
Julia Diana Bobbi- The financial situation that Redertainment is currently in.
Liz- The one that has Hunter so aggravated right now?

Lull in the conversation.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Yeah. I figures, rather than just pounding on the door and yelling, I'd do something productive.
Liz- Yeah. I mean, while pounding and yelling can give you a good aerobic workout, it not really doing anything to get answers about what's going on.

Julia's printer begins to spit out paper.

Liz- What are you printing there?
Julia Diana Bobbi- R.C.O.A. financial reports.

Julia picks up the paper from her printer and reads it over. She them begins to mark it up as she talks to Liz.

Julia Diana Bobbi- It looks like if we eliminated The Dating Show, Human Zoo, and whatever this "Project Journal" is, we can save a lot of money.
Liz- Yeah. Given that the host of The Dating Show is in jail, where he belongs, and Human Zoo has been out of production for yeas now, those can be easily done away with.

Julia then flips over to the second page of the financial reports and promptly gets a shocked look on her face.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Frick!
Liz- What?
Julia Diana Bobbi- Look at how much this company is spending on pension and retirement packages.

Julia shows the page to Liz, who then gets a shocked look on her face.

Liz- Holy fuck!
Julia Diana Bobbi- Exactly.
Liz- Why the fuck is this company spending that much money on retirement? And who is that money going to?

More paper starts to spit out of Julia's printer, which she takes out of the printer and reads.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Apparently, the money is just going to a fund that is not being used by anyone. According to this report by Anthony Severe, the reason so much is being contributed to the retirement fund is that one of the former bosses here, Seifer Kinneas, set up a system to pre-fund the R.C.O.A. retirement fund seventy-five years in advance.
Liz- What kind of moron does that?
Julia Diana Bobbi- The kind of moron who makes decisions while he is drunk.

Lull in the conversation.

Liz- So, how do we reverse this decision?
Julia Diana Bobbi- I don't know, but I guess Rodger could do it.
Liz- So why hasn't he made that decision? And where is he, anyway?

Lull in the conversation.

Julia Diana Bobbi- I don't know, but it might be time to find out.

Julia gets up from her desk and leaves her office. Liz sits down on Julia's desk. Then Liz sneaks a look on Julia's computer.

Liz- Anthony Severe, why do I remember that name? Oh yeah, he used to work here. He filled in for Hunter while he was off in rehab. Why is he popping up again?

Liz gets up and leaves Julia's office as the scene ends.


END SCENE

Spotlight On The Sale Of Occupy Valve

Are You Just Making Up Stuff?

At a TechNW panel, Gabe Newell has explained the string of pricing experiments that resulted in the recognition of something Mr. Newell calls "time-shifting revenue". Newell explained that these experiments were conducted by Steam first lowering prices on certain games without telling people about it. Then, Steam lowered prices on certain games, told people about it, then saw better results. In summation, Steam lowered prices without telling people about it, then lowered prices while telling people about it, and claim that the resulting increased results is due to "time-shifting revenue".

I beg to differ. What Gabe Newell just demonstrated is the power of advertising. If you don't tell people that a price is lower, a low amount of people are going to know the price is lower, thereby stunting how many people will take advantage of the lower price. However, if you lower prices then tell people about it, more people are going to know about it, enabling more people to take advantage of the lower price. The difference in the two situations is that YOU TOLD PEOPLE ABOUT IT. YOU ENGAGED IN ADVERTISING!!!

As Judge Judith Sheindlin says, "Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining." Valve, don't make up impressive sounding terms to try to make yourself sound better than you actually are. Doing so just insults the public that you are trying to sell games to, and people do not like being insulted. Also, get to work on Half-Life 3. If I release Project Journal before a real teaser trailer for Half-Life 3 is released, I call on gamers to #OccupyValve.



The Redertainment Corporation Of America Employee Spotlight: Liz

Job Title:
General Executive Secretary for The Redertainment Corporation Of America

What was your favorite TV show as a child?

The Monkees

Have you ever met a famous person? Who?

I met Bono in Ireland before he was famous. At least I think it was Bono. At the very least, I met an pompous Irish asshole in a pub while I was on vacation.

If you were alone on a island with one CD, who's would it be?

The audio version of How To Craft A Boat To Get Yourself Off A Desert Island.

Where do you wish to retire?

Somewhere where I could be with my grandkids.

What is your favorite novel or author?

I tend to read a lot of romance novels. I base my purchase on the hunkiness of the guy on the cover and not person who wrote it.

If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?

Where my grandkids are right now.

What would you do with a million dollars?

Retire and spend my days sleeping and playing with my grandchildren and sleeping.

Please add one fun fact about yourself.

I have a tattoo that only my husband has seen.



SALE SALE SALE SALE!!!

In recognition of the birth of television icon Kelly Osbourne, we here at The Redertainment Corporation Of America are proud to announce our Forty-sixth Annual Time-shifting Revenue Sale! Yes, come celebrate the birthday of fashion opinionist and rumored lap-band surgery recipient Kelly Osbourne and take advantage of deals on all the products offered for sale by The Redertainment Corporation Of America.

Were you contemplating buying Hunter Red's The Black Robin Christmas Carol on Kindle, but were too much of a cheapskate to buy it when it was only $3? Well, now you can stop being such a damn cheapskate, because The Black Robin Christmas Carole on Kindle is now only $1. That's right, one dollar, in the only currency that matters, American currency.

In fact, all of Hunter Red's book currently available on Kindle, and the way lesser known and highly irrelevant Nook, have been reduced to $1. You can get The Hawk, The Hawk: Consequences Of Mayorust, and The Black Robin Christmas Carol now for only a dollar a piece. That's 66% off the previous price!

Now, what if you are an old fart that insists on sticking to physical media. Well, fear not you old, old, old, OLD person. You too can get in on the savings!

The physical versions of Hunter Red's works currently up for sale on Amazon.com have been reduced from $7 to only $5.40. That just over 22% off the already low prices!

So buy all of the products currently available from The Redertainment Corporation Of America during our Forty-sixth Annual Time-shifting Revenue Sale. These deals won't last long, unless Mr. Red doesn't bother to raise the prices back to the previous level. And remember, if you don't take advantage of these deals, Kelly Osbourne will hate you.

Destroying Your Chance To Translate The Welcoming Riot

Welcome Back... Are You Okay?



It's Thursday morning at The Official Offices of The Redertainment Corporation Of America. Rodger Red, Julia Diana Bobbi, and Liz are busily working away when Hunter Red strolls into the offices. No one reacts to his presence, except for Julia.


Julia Diana Bobbi- Hunter! You're back in one piece.


Hunter is visibly disgusted by this statement by Julia, even as Julia is giving Hunter a hearty hug.


Hunter Red- Liz, what did you tell her?


Liz- That you were off the wagon.


Hunter Red- Yes, what else?


Julia Diana Bobbi- They tried to convince me that you were a lost cause.


Hunter Red- Fuck!


Hunter leaves the general office area and goes into his office. Julia follows him.


Julia Diana Bobbi- So, how was your trip?


Hunter Red- Great. I got a lot of work done in between going to shows and stuff.


Julia Diana Bobbi- You worked on your vacation?


Hunter Red- Sure. Why do you think Rodger isn't all over my ass about content?


Julia Diana Bobbi- Because you wrote that five part piece that we've been slowly rolling out on the website.


Hunter Red- The Reunion? Oh. Damn, I forgot about that.


Julia steps a little closer to Hunter's desk.


Julia Diana Bobbi- So, are you okay?


Hunter Red- Yeah. I got a little sunburnt walking to a strip club, but I get sunburnt anytime I walk outside.


Julia steps a little closer to Hunter's desk.


Julia Diana Bobbi- No, I mean, are you okay?


Hunter Red- Yeah. Why do you ask?


Julia Diana Bobbi- Because I'm concerned about you and your battle with alcoholism.


Hunter sighs audibly.


Hunter Red- Julia, I thank you for your concern. (Louder so that Liz and Rodger can hear)The God I don't believe in knows that no one else in this office does.


Liz- I just take the phone calls.


Rodger Red- Remember, your deadline is coming up.


Julia steps a little closer to Hunter's desk, to the point where she takes a seat on the corner of it.


Julia Diana Bobbi- Hunter-


Hunter Red- You're getting awfully close, Julia.


Julia Diana Bobbi- Oh, I'm sorry.


Hunter Red- I'm not. I don't know if I've told you this before, but you have a delectable butt.


Julia takes this compliment oddly.


Julia Diana Bobbi- Thanks. Anyway, Hunter, I'm concerned about you because I'm aware of the severe effects that alcohol can have on the-


Hunter Red- Do you know when I got back into town?


Julia Diana Bobbi- Yesterday?


Hunter Red- No, Tuesday. Do you know what I did with my extra day?


Julia Diana Bobbi- Cleared out your TiVo and drank?


Hunter Red- I visited my therapist.


Julia doesn't know how to react to this statement.


Julia Diana Bobbi- Okay.


Hunter Red- You see, I can't go to traditional AA, because of the heavy spiritual influence. Instead, the addiction therapist I went to for recovery advised that I go to a clinical psychologist on a regular basis and whenever I slip up.


Julia Diana Bobbi- So you and your therapist talked it out and your back on the road to recovery?


Hunter Red- Yep.


Julia is made jubilant by this affirmation.


Julia Diana Bobbi- Excellent!


Julia hops off Hunter's desk and gives him a hug. Hunter doesn't know what to make of this, but enjoys it regardless.


Julia Diana Bobbi- It's good to see you are dedicated to your recovery.


Hunter Red- It's good to see your butt from this angle.


Julia breaks the hug and makes her way to Hunter's office door.


Julia Diana Bobbi- Hunter, if you ever need to talk about anything, my office is right over there.


Hunter Red- Okay. Thank you.


Hunter is sincere when he thanks Julia. As Julia makes her way toward her office, Hunter says-


Hunter Red- You know, I wasn't kidding about what I said about your butt.


Julia Diana Bobbi- I know, but you, nor anybody else for that manner, will get their hands on my butt untill the night I get married.


Julia continues on her travel to her office and goes out of sight of Hunter's gaze. When she does so, Hunter digs around in his desk, pulls out an old bottle of Grey Goose, opens it and says-


Hunter Red- To that lucky, lucky, lucky man. It won't be me, but I hope that guy knows the kind of woman he's managed to snag.


Hunter takes a swig from his Grey Goose bottle then puts it back in it's drawer.


 


 


 


END SCENE


 


 


 


 


YOU DESTROYED MY CHANCE


 


 


 


 


 


London Rioting


Not being in London during the riots, nor trusting of media reports about them, I can only image what they are like. I imagine they are like this.



 


 


 


 


Lessons In Language And Communications And Talking To People



Hello. We here at The Redertainment Corporation Of America are proud to bring you these lessons in how to communicate with people in foreign lands that are not America. The following is a series of common Italian phrases that are useful if you go to Italy or other places where the Italian language is prevalent, such as Italy.



Hello.


Ciao.


How are you?


Come stai?


I am well, thank you for asking.


Sto bene, vi ringrazio per avermelo chiesto.


Excuse me, can I have some beer, please?


Mi scusi, posso avere qualche birra, per favore?


Do you have any locally brewed varieties of beer?


Avete qualche varietà di birra prodotta a livello locale?


My, that is large glass.


Il mio, che è il vetro di grandi dimensioni.


Can I have another?


Posso avere un altro?


Can I have another?


Posso avere un altro?


Can I have another?


Posso avere un altro?


Would you, perchance, know where I could pick up a prostitute?


Volete, forse, sapere dove potrei prendere una prostituta?


No, I was not saying your sister is a prostitute.


No, non stavo dicendo a tua sorella è una prostituta.


Boy, that is a shiny knife you have.


Ragazzo, che è un coltello lucido che avete.


Ouch!


Ohi!


No, that is not tomato sauce.


No, non è salsa di pomodoro.


Ouch!


Ohi!


Would you mind not stabbing me again?


Ti dispiacerebbe non mi accoltellamento di nuovo?


Ouch!


Ohi!


Yes, I would like to go to the hospital.


Sì, vorrei andare in ospedale.


What do you mean I have to settle my bill first?


Cosa vuol dire che devo saldare il conto prima?


Why is it suddenly getting dark?


Perché è improvvisamente buio?


Oh no.


Ah no.


Thud.


Tonfo.



Join us for our next Lessons In Language And Communications And Talking To People when we will be featuring Japanese. Here is a sample:



Look, vending machines!


Jidō hanbai-ki, mite!


Ew, vending machines.


EW, jidō hanbai-ki.


 


 


 


 


Backward Learning With Skyler Banned

Skyler

For many of us, there's a person that exists in our mind, and only our mind. This is a person who is the product of our deepest desires. This is a person, for many of us, who we may never meet and feel a loss for having never done so. I know who this person is in my mind. I see her everyday. I see her perfectly sculpted legs, her long luxurious hair, her breathtaking smile, I see her. Not only do I see her, I hear her. I hear her sweet golden voice, a voice that mesmerizes me like a Siren.

For many us, this person exists only in our minds, never in reality. Never in the reality of our cold, dark, infinitely depressing world. However, for some fortunate people, this person enters reality, our reality. For the fortunate, this person comes into our lives, and our lives are forever lifted because of it. Such is the case for me.

I went to a place I have gone to before. Usually when I come to this place, I stay there for a period of time and leave rather unsatisfied. This was not to be one of those times. I went to this place and did not spend long there, for I did not have to. Mere minutes after entering this place, I ran straight into a person. The person. The person that only exists in my mind.

We talked for a little bit. Actually, she first engaged in conversation with me. There are no words to describe how much of an impact that had with me. We talked about work, where I crafted a bit on a non-truth about my actual employment, music, where I feigned interest in Chris Cornell, and dress, namely her stunning, stunning top.

Then she said something. Words. The words. The words that forever altered the relationship between myself and the woman who personified my deepest desires.

"So, lapdances are $20, that is for one song, but you can pay for more. There's also the private room. That lasts for a half hour and costs $145. Are you interested?"



Do We Never Learn?

Last year I read a book by David Cullen entitled "Columbine". This book has been described by many as the most definitive report on the Columbine Massacre that has been compiled. As the events that happened in Columbine, Colorado serve as the event with the most impact on my life and my country before I graduated High School, I read this book wanting to learn.

In "Columbine", Mr. Cullen gives a detailed account of the misinformation that was spread around in the days, weeks, and years after the Columbine Massacre. Mr. Cullen talks of news commentators, politicians, musicians, clergy, and ordinary people and what those people learned, said, and did. Mr. Cullen also details how that misinformation affected and still effects the reactions to that massacre.

As I am seeing coverage from the various news outlets that I get my information from, I'm seeing a similar thing happening in relation to the events in Norway on Sunday. Do we never learn?



Backward Outrage

One night I was driving home and I saw something that disturbed me. I pulled up to a light, at the time time someone else pulled into the light in the left turn lane. As I looked around while waiting for the light to change, which I usually do at lights because I am bored, I noticed that the guy in the left turn lane was rolling backward. This concerned me, as it would most people, for I thought that the guy driving the car might be having car trouble. However, the person driving the car didn't seem concerned. Then I realized what he was doing.

The intersection I was sitting at was one fitted with sensors to monitor traffic flow. If there is a lot of cars waiting at one direction of the intersection and not a lot waiting in the other direction of the intersection, the sensors will sense this situation and adjust the traffic lights accordingly. At this intersection there are sensors on the lights and under the asphalt at the intersection. If there are two or more cars at this intersection, or if there is a car on the part of the asphalt where the sensor is, the sensor will go off and adjust the light.

The guy in the left turn lane was rolling backward so that he would set off the sensor embedded in the asphalt in the intersection, ensuring that when the light changed he would get a protected left turn signal. If this isn't illegal it should be.



I'm A Stupid Cat





Happy Birthday!!!... Where Are You

Julia Diana Bobbi walks into the offices of The Redertainment Corporation Of America with a box in her hands. She sees Hunter Red's secretary Liz and starts talking to her.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Good morning Liz.
Liz- Good morning Julia. What's that you got there?
Julia Diana Bobbi- It's a box.

Liz is not amused by this.

Liz- What is in the box?
Julia Diana Bobbi- Well, you know how Hunter's been down lately?
Liz- Hunter hasn't been down lately, that's how he normally is.
Julia Diana Bobbi- Well, I thought I'd lift his spirits.
Liz- How?
Julia Diana Bobbi- Today's his birthday, right?
Liz- Yes.
Julia Diana Bobbi- Don't you think Hunter would like a piece of birthday cake on his birthday?
Liz- Assuming it's cheesecake, sure. There's just one problem.
Julia Diana Bobbi- What's that?
Liz- Hunter isn't here today.
Julia Diana Bobbi- He's not?
Liz- No.
Julia Diana Bobbi- Where is he?


This is when Rodger Red pokes his head out of his office and into the general office area.

Rodger Red- He's in Vegas.
Julia Diana Bobbi- What?
Rodger Red- Hunter is in Las Vegas. He goes down every year on his birthday to get blackout drunk and have random sluts grind on junk.

Julia is puzzled by this.

Julia Diana Bobbi- But he can do that here, why did Hunter go to Vegas to have that done?
Liz- He can't bet on the Red Sox here.
Julia Diana Bobbi- Oh, I see.

There is a short pause.

Julia Diana Bobbi- So, what am I going to do with this cake?
Rodger Red- Might I suggest eating it?
Julia Diana Bobbi- Sure, we could do that, but wouldn't Hunter be offended that we didn't make a big deal of his birthday.
Liz- He'd probably prefer we not acknowledge that he's getting older.
Rodger Red- Besides, if he's anything like his father and if Hunter is back drinking again, he'll probably be unable to remember anything that goes on.
Julia Diana Bobbi- So, what are we going to do about it?

Liz and Rodger look befuddled.

Liz- Do? Honey, we can't do anything to help him.
Julia Diana Bobbi- Don't tell me you two have given up on him?
Rodger Red- Julia, your optimism is cute but your naivety is annoying.
Julia Diana Bobbi- Is it so wrong to think that anyone can be redeemed?
Rodger Red- Yes. Some people can't be helped untill they decide to help themselves.
Julia Diana Bobbi- But, can't there be people along the way showing those people the way, showing them that there are people who, at the very least, care?
Liz- Julia, why don't you just go back to work. I'm sure there's another episode of The Red Question that needs to be planned.

Julia, with evident hesitation, takes the cake box and goes into her office and closes the door. Once inside, she sits in her office chair, faces the window, and begins speaking.

Julia Diana Bobbi- I don't understand them sometimes. I don't. The world is not as negative as they make it out to be. Hunter can be redeemed, there just has to be effort. It can't be one sided, others have to be willing to help. I know I am. (Heavy sigh) I wonder where Hunter is now.


END SCENE



List Of Banned Words

In the interest of keeping everything clean, the following words have been banned for use in the comments section of any blog composed by any employee of The Redertainment Corporation Of America.

AARDVARK AARDWOLF AARON ABA ABA ABA ABACUS ABALONE ABARKA ABATEMENT WORKER ABAYA ABBESS ABBEY ABBOT ABDOMEN ABETTOR ABIABA ABI ABODE A-BOMB SHELTER ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN ABOMINATION ABOYNE SKIRT ABRAHAM LINCOLN ABSCISSIN ABSCONDER ABSOLUTIST ABTEN ABUTMENT ABYSS ABYSSINIA ABYSSINIAN CA ABYSSINIAN PI AC ACACIA ACACIA SEED ACACIA TREE ACADEMIC ACADEMICAL DRESS ACADEMICALS ACADEMIC CAP ACADEMIC DRESS ACADEMIC GOWN ACADEMIC REGALIA ACADEMY ACAI ACAI BERRY ACAI PALM ACAPNOTIC ACARICID AC CABLE ACCENSOR ACCENTOR ACCENT PILLOW
ACCESS CHAMBER ACCESSORY ACCOMMODATION ACCOMPLICE ACCORDION ACCORDION BUS ACCOUNTANT ACCUSER ACE ACEDIAST ACEPHALIST ACEPROMAZINE ACEROLA ACERSECOMIC ACETABULU ACETALDEHYDE ACETAMIDE ACETAMINOPHEN ACETIC ANHYDRIDE ACETOMETER ACETONE ACETONE PEROXIDE ACETYLENE ACHAR ACHEE ACHELOUSAURUS ACHENE ACHERI ACHILLES TENDON ACHOCHA ACHOKCHA ACHOR ACHRONITE ACICULA ACID ACID DESCALE ACIPENSE ACKEE ACOG SCOPE ACOLYTE ACONITE ACONITUM ACORN ACORN JELLY ACORN SQUASH ACORN TREE ACOUMETER ACOUSTIC BASS GUITAR ACOUSTIC GUITAR ACRAEIN ACREAGE ACROBAT ACROCANTHOSAURUS ACROGEN ACROLEIN ACROLITH ACRONY ACROPODIUM ACROPOLIS ACROSPIRE ACRYLAMIDE ACRYLIC ACRYLONITRILE ACTAEA ACTAME ACTINIDE ACTINIUM ACTINOGRAPH ACTINOMETE ACTION FIGURE ACTIVIST ACTOR ACTRESS ACTUARY ACUPUNCTURIST ADAM ADAM ADAMANTIUM ADAM'S APPLE ADAPTER ADDER ADDRESS BOOK ADEMONIST ADENOMA ADEQUAN ADESPOTON ADHERENT ADHESIVE ADIABOLIST ADIT ADJUNCT ADJUTAN ADJUVANT ADMINICLE ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT

More words to be revealed over the next weeks and months.

Publicizing Incompetent Monkey Empowerment

Reasoning For Cursing

Julia Diana Bobbi is sitting in her office watching a video on her computer. It the 4/17/11, specifically the segment involving Sen. Mike Lee, Republican from Utah. Julia is watching this video with an increasingly exasperated look on her face. Once the video is over, Julia presses a button on her phone.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Hunter, can you come in here, please?

Moments later, Hunter Red enters Julia's office.

Hunter Red- Julia?
Julia Diana Bobbi- Hunter, I just watched one of our senators, Mike Lee, on Meet The Press.
Hunter Red- I watched that as well.
Julia Diana Bobbi- Hunter, I now understand why you swear when you listen to politicians. I don't consider that the responsible or correct response, but I understand why you do it.
Hunter Red- Julia, I don't consider that to be a great response either. However, I've tried other responsible responses. I've tried sending letters, I've tried calling people on the phone, I've tried giving money to campaigns. None of them have done any good. The only way I can rid myself of my anger at politicians is to swear.
Julia Diana Bobbi- I know.

Hunter takes a couple of steps out of Julia's office, then returns.

Hunter Red- You know, I may not have any alternative but to swear, but you have different alternatives available to you.
Julia Diana Bobbi- How do you figure?
Hunter Red- You are in Utah. You are a white, Mormon, conservative. You are in the majority, the overwhelming majority. Those in power will listen to you.
Julia Diana Bobbi- You think so?
Hunter Red- Yes. They will listen to you more than they will listen to me.

Julia begins to think over what Hunter had just said as he leaves her office. Julia turns toward her computer, types and clicks for a minute, then begins to say something aloud.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Dear Senator Lee...


END SCENE



A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Condemnations

This picture offends me deeply. I can barely begin to articulate just how this picture offends me. Any attempt to express my offense only skims the surface. I mean just look at this picture. Look at it. Look at the background. I realize that the background of a picture should not take away from the foreground, but does every picture studio need to use the same background? I remember seeing this photo when the Red family photo was taken last year, ten years ago, and even twenty years ago. I mean, come on photographers of America, use your imaginations. Come up with a background that is not bland leftovers from the Disco Era.



Trumping Publicity

Julia Diana Bobbi is sitting at her desk. The receptionist of The Redertainment Corporation Of America, Liz, calls to Julia from her desk in the general office area.

Liz- Julia, you've got a call on line 3.
Julia Diana Bobbi- Thank you.

Julia picks up the phone and talks to the person on the other end. After nearly every sentence, Julia listens to what the other person says, never interrupting who she is listening to. The only reason why spaces are not given in this account is to save space.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Hello? Why hello. Yes, I am in charge of interviews for Redertainment. Yes, I am interested in an interview. Is Monday okay? Allright, Friday works for me. In the morning? Sorry, evening. Okay, I can do that. Just a quick question, what do you want to discuss? Ah, yes. I've heard you talk about those issues in other interviews, do you want to delve any deeper into those issues? No. Do you want to make any announcement about your future intentions? No. So, why do you want to talk to me? No, I just don't want to waste my time giving someone free publicity when they could just as easily take out an ad in our publications. Okay. So the interview is off? Okay, goodbye then.

Julia hangs up the phone.

Julia Diana Bobbi- Man. What a waste of my time.


END SCENE



An Amendment From My Comments Earlier

Recently I went to Lowe's. I'm going to be starting a garden, and to do that I need some gardening supplies. One of these gardening supplies is manure, which is a fancy way to say bullshit. I found a fifty pound bag of manure at Lowe's for nine dollars. This caused me to come to the following conclusion: PSN is not bullshit. Bullshit costs money.



My Exact Thoughts On PSN

FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN! FUCK PSN!