Not Something Of Value???

 Morning news was interesting today. There was a complaint against Mike Lindell's disregard of campaign laws in Minnesota.

You've heard the name. He's the "My Pillow guy", and a buddy of Trump. He decided to run for Governor of this state - as a Republican of course. Somehow making pillows which are reputed to be totally uncomfortable for sleeping on, and being a buddy of our Idiot In Chief, qualify him to be our next governor. So far as I know, he doesn't live here and never has - but I could be wrong of course, having been out of the state for a few years. Allowances are made for relocating after an election is won, though the relocation is not always followed through. Oopsie!

Trump's endorsement? Looking over his cabinet picks and their "qualifications", which seem to begin and end in slathering the praise on Trump the way he slathers ketchup on the White House walls, creating numerous scandals and making us the laughingstock of the world, just don't seem to me to qualify Lindell for any carpetbagging office. 

I also wouldn't trust Trump's good wishes for what happens in Minnesota after we had the temerity to put up our Governor to run with Kamala Harris against his slate for President/Vice President last go-round. We've been high on his target list ever since. So anybody Trump endorses for any office starts off with strikes against them rather than any supposition of good will or competence, in general but especially for us.

None of that violates campaign laws of course. The complaint came out of Lindell's campaign people distributing his pillows at his campaign events in the state. The law prohibits exchanging anything of value for votes. It's illegal to buy votes here, as it should be everywhere. Lindell's campaign counters that the pillows are not something of value, within the parameters of the law which put a limit of $5 for the definition of value. $4.99 is legal, $5 not. The pillows which were distributed - per the campaign - sell for $4.99. They are smaller than bed pillows, hence the low price. So no problem, right?

Well, if the claim is true, not a legal one. Of course to buy one a person would have to pay sales tax, meaning the price would be above $5.  Over the threshold in practical terms, but legal? Not my area of expertise.

But I clearly recall the results of a psychology experiment many years back, with results so unexpected at the time that it still resonates.  They were testing for the amount of a reward which had the most power to persuade another person to do whatever you wanted, a detail specified in the experiment, whether it was a specific action, or loyalty, or simple gratitude. The expected results were that a higher gift value would be more persuasive. The stunning result was that a very modest one worked much better. If I recall correctly, the small gift was seen as an act of friendship, no strings attached. In turn, the recipient was much more inclined to reciprocate, a gift for a gift, friendship for friendship. A large gift was seen with strings attached and more likely to cause resentment for its implied obligation.

So perhaps the Lindell campaign knows exactly what it is doing. Unless those pillows are as uncomfortable as the large ones and it backfires, eh? Just what are their value?

Plant Confusion

I went out this morning to dig up the bleeding heart - pink variety, not white - in order to give it away to a more loving home and make room for iris to relocate. Yes, it gets complicated. The rhubarb does have to move out. But I have tiger and Asiatic lilies also taking up space in what needs to be a nearly all iris bed, and they are already sending up several new shoots each from the single bulbs I sprouted indoors and set out this spring. They'll all go into the lily bed, but the available room is in two small remaining patches, one of which just got rid of its bleeding heart plant. The other is still getting rid weekly of its weeds. By hand of course. At least without me falling again. 

                       Tiger lily with dragonfly.

Did I say bleeding heart? Singular? At least that's what I expected after dividing it last fall for my new next door neighbor. As I was digging out the remainder this morning the pieces started falling away from each other. I thought at first I had two plants. OK, no problem, I'd just talked to one of Steve's visiting nurses to see if she'd want them  - why waste any? - and she indicated she'd love them (especially free no doubt) because she lived on wooded land and could use something pretty in it first thing in spring. Great!

 

                         This is it before the 1st division, last year.

So, pull out violets, grass, sorrels, avoid where last fall's bulbs were planted, then start vertical digs around the plant. Lifffftttt.... and SPLIT apart! OK, no biggie, so we had two plants now. There were long fat roots leading off in different directions, but were old plant parts that crumbled into rotten wood as they separated from the ground... and everything else. I walked everything over to the rain bucket to soak and clean up, making them friendly new neighbors for their new homes.  Eventually there were 5 cleaned, shortened, sound roots with their tall dead spring stems cut way back, enough left so even those unfamiliar could tell up from down and approximate depth in their hole. 

We get all kinds of plastic bags around here. Delivered grocery orders come in them, which we've had a lot of this year. Produce comes in their own bags. We put them all to use, hopefully many times. I pulled out the produce bags when I thought there were only two plants. I wound up with five plants in two bags, both bags in a larger one, its handles knotted at the top, ready to go when the nurse left. They'd had a really good soak, enough to last them a good while, and I gave directions to soak them in a pail again before planting this evening. Off they went. 

All the weeds and rotten plant parts left went in the box we're accumulating compost contributions in, to be taken to my son's house. I'll do that tonight, but by this time it was getting too hot for more work in the sun.

That's when I cleaned up and went online. With the plants I intend to move, it was time to recheck variety names and planting requirements. Besides, why hide a 12 inch plant behind a 28" one? I went into last year's records of what varieties went where and what they looked like. It was revealing in how many varieties I forgot I had, much less all their names. I had even noted which company certain ones had come from, just in case they'd sent duds so I'd avoid them. Or to remember if they sent great stock.

I'd google a plant name. I'd get dozens of pictures, often no two alike. Hmmm, looks like anybody can give any plant any name and nobody complains that it's copyrighted or anything. Nobody complains that this yellow one has the same name as that red or orange one, or that single petaled one has the name of this double petaled one, or a different formation from the next or ... or... or.... In other words, I better start keeping better records if I wish to replace something I'd thought by name was different and dug out what should have been a tiny selection of a large set of flowers but turned into the only example, and dang! It was gorgeous! (You've never done that, right?)

Well, at least it went to a good gardener who should be very happy with what it actually turned into, and who'll nurture it well. I better remember to give her the correct name though, for what that's worth.

Meanwhile we need to teach the plant world that there are more words needed for so many different plant types, and for growers to just go out and find some! Thesaurus maybe? Meanwhile never, never, never  buy or sell your flowers without accurate photos that actually match the flowers in question, OK? Got it? Everybody?

Now: make note to self.....

Are You A descendent Of Richard And Rebecca Maxson?

I'm told I am, and therefore my descendants as well.  I was sent an ancestry chart that listed my name. Unfortunately it had several errors in my data, including the supposition that I married my father-in-law. No, I married his son, and we named one of our sons after my then husband with a "Junior" attached.

For me, that brings into question a whole lot of other details in the chart. Let's just start with, first, I'm pretty easy to find. You're reading about me right now. My life is pretty well recorded. But nobody ever asked me a few simple important questions, or a chance to make corrections in the "facts" listed. I tried to contact the source of the list I was sent, never heard back, no clue if corrections were made, and assume nobody actually cares.

Why should anybody care? I mean aside from the idiocy of reactions to where I appended Rosa as my last name after my first marriage and kicked off the former middle one, keeping the "Maxson". That is causing problems, but only recently. It was never a problem before since no fraud was intended. I just joined a long time-honored history of similar behaviors.  I grew up with family stories on my father's side that went way back to before America was founded, some to William Wallace's time causing various relocations and name changes, all of which may be apocryphal. Somebody give me a reliable time machine and modern healthcare to take along, and I'll let you know. Just don't forget the healthcare!

My father was named after the first in our known line to be born this side of the Atlantic. His father arrived in Massachusetts as an indentured servant in the very early 1600s with a seven year obligation of work to fulfill. He was essentially owned by the Puritans who held his contract. Once those seven years were paid, he was kicked out of that community, not for any crime other than being - Horrors! - a Baptist. So those honored first arrivals came here for religious freedom... only for themselves. Somehow it tarnishes their noble quest for freedom, doesn't it? We got ours, now you have to join us or scram!

Humans!!!

Of course it has become a time-honored tradition in this country, where groups tribalize to "I've got my sacred freedoms, now you go scram and find your own if you can earn them but we get to decide that for you!" Our national history is a long tale of "US" versus "THEM", with, of course, every "US" being unquestionably superior... in all things.

That ancestor scrammed all the way to the island of Rhode Island. Every time that tale was told "Island" was strongly emphasized. Make no mistake, it was only and exactly that island. The ancestor married, they had a son who held the distinction of being the very first white child born on that island,  and who was named John Maxson. (Don't leave off the "s".) My father was named after him, but with a middle name added, from elsewhere in the family, of "Dufty". He hated it, since he grew up teased by other kids who turned it into bathroom humor. When he was drafted into the army in WWII to serve in Europe, he hated his middle name so much he was willing to swear, even risking perjury, his middle name was a single initial only, a "D". He was buried with that initial in Fort Snelling Cemetery, showing he never got in any trouble with the military for it. He chose to be named with a single middle initial only for the rest of his life. His mother, Jane Elizabeth (Price) Maxson, spilled the beans to me. She was proud of the family name and wasn't going to diminish it to a mere initial. 

Of course, she in turn hated the "Jane" and was always known as Elizabeth. I only knew about "Jane" when I read a copy of her autobiography after she'd died which she wrote as a young adult. At one time I held paper copies of it in my hands. I have no idea where those papers got to. Luckily, I took photos of each page and store them in my photo library, right next to all the photo pages from one of Dad's sisters proving her eligibility to be a member of the DAR. As her niece, I could join, as could my daughter, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter. If they ever wanted to of course.

When I needed to get a copy of my first marriage license from St. Paul to help prove my identity after moving back to Minnesota, having all my documentation still locked up in a PODS sitting in Arizona, they got my dad's middle initial wrong! I was too annoyed by all the documentation hassle at that point to even notice it for a few days, much less consider trying to point it out to them and get it corrected. I needed my driver's license and all the other duplicate ID crap to get on with life back in this state. I'd qualified for all that Real ID stuff when we moved to Arizona years before with the same kinds of documentation, but MN insists AZ didn't do it "right enough". It wasn't a problem with my documentation, just that it came from Arizona. Start over!

I'm pretty sure in the distant future if/when people are trying to trace me in the genealogy - particularly since I married into a (partly) Mormon family with at least one member who relishes keeping all those records - I'll be a mystery and/or source of confusion. I'm already sure it's a problem because I can't get everything all together enough to qualify for Minnesota's version of Real ID. I have an ordinary ID. I can't get a passport without hiring an attorney. I can't get on a plane without either a passport or a Real ID, either way requiring hiring an attorney and jumping through expensive hoops. 

Good thing I can still pretty much drive wherever I really want to go. My shoulder surgeon approves on behalf of both arms now.

As a result I can't put too much blame on whoever has been keeping the family tree from way back for allowing stupid errors to creep in. I've been assured all the claims of descendance from Charlemagne are hogwash, for example. Even his many bastards were thoroughly documented, along with theirs, and theirs.... I've forgotten some of the errors specific to me, but the idea of my marrying my father-in-law was just so repulsive I've never forgotten it. (Incest!!! ICK!!!) I bet if anybody was keeping up they'd miss my divorce (in Georgia) and second marriage (in Arizona) as well. But it's still me, and I'm still a piece of that lineage, where ancestors got scalped, and all sorts of other human things happened... and some were gotten wrong in the telling or writing. 

But if you're keeping those records these days, and are interested in fixing one teensy part of them by the person who lived it, go ahead and reach out. The state of Minnesota  can find me if you can't. So can the FBI, though I haven't given them a reason for years now, except to be cleared for carrying a hidden gun or as responsible for paying rent. I'm still around. And mildly annoyed.

In addition, I'm chuckling a bit at the absurdity of it all. It's fun to think you know this long line of people who resulted in you, hearing their alleged stories making them more than just names and probable dates on paper somewhere. Someday I'll be just a name and probable dates on paper - or a file of electrons - or some new technology - where even the people who knew and loved me weren't keeping track of those kinds of details, just the bits that impacted their lives at whatever level. That will be my legacy, for whoever cares. I know somewhere way back in history there is a string of humans (or near humans), themselves preceded by strings of cells put together from molecules made from patterns of protons, neutrons, and electrons, preceded by.... who knows? Just like everything else. Various zigs and zags resulted in me. I've continued the chain by producing descendants, and my atoms or ashes will enter other chains which may or may not ever become parts of humans ever again. I might be billions of years as part of some layer of rock. Talk about immortality!

Right now people still exist who try to keep track of those chains. But as long as they still find it important, why not do their best to get it right?

If You Could Just Mix Tech With Clothing this Way....

 I caught a flash of a commercial this morning - no clue what it was for, of course, aside from the usual "buy something" - that looked totally weird. I know I didn't actually see what I thought I saw, and it wasn't at all whatever the commercial was about, but trying to figure out what I had seen got me thinking.

What I thought I was was somebody wearing a shirt where a hole went through it - and them - showing what was behind them  and changing as the person moved. You know, like a window through the person. Since the person was apparently alive and unhurt, there was obviously no window/hole through their torso. But oh, what an illusion/delusion!

I bet somebody could put the current tech we have together and make a shirt that would create that effect. You'd need matching coverage, front and back, pick a shape: circle, rectangle, oval, irregular with edges shaped like a cannonball or shotgun blast had gone through. 

The back of the shirt would need  some kind of camera(s) catching the shape lined up facing back as if there really were a hole there, with wiring under the shirt coming around the body or over the shoulders to display on whatever the "hole" screen shape was. They'd have to match in real time as well as angles of course, so as the person turned the view would instantly match, just as if you were actually seeing through a hole in their torso. If somebody walked behind them you'd see that part of them pass as if through a window.

In its simplest it would just be a weird party trick. Think something like a window frame with a view matching the person's movements. But think of what one could do with it for Halloween! One would need a border that appeared to be the dimensional sides of the hole - all with apparent edges gory with blood, bones, organs as if you were seeing through the person... who was still apparently alive, not noticing they must have died.

Or were they undead?

I'll be waiting to hear somebody managed to make it work. No fees will be asked, though I'd love to see it in use.  

Anybody?

Missing Colbert

I'd been following his late night show for years. As a young adult, late night for me was Johnny Carson, with me thinking it was hilarious when he transitioned from directions to take the Slauson cutoff to a warning not to cut off your Slauson. Well, maybe only mildly amusing the 23rd time. There followed a lot of years of long working hours/weeks and sleep deprivation, where no late night TV was viewed. When life finally allowed my return, I watched Letterman for a bit, and then, Colbert filled his shoes. More than filled them, in my opinion. 

I had started to notice different political leanings among hosts, and like a lot of people, decided the liberal viewpoint suited me more. One explanation I heard years ago seemed to fit: it was the difference between punching up and punching down. I never found it funny to pick on the little guy. Back when I was a kid and hadn't the words or knowledge to understand why, I hated three Stooges, but even more than them hated Laurel and Hardy. Bullies simply aren't funny. Period.

When Colbert had his gig on The Daily Show where he portrayed the wackjob right wing extremists, I quit watching The Daily Show.  Of course it was a put-on, but who needed that? The only funny part was the number of people who didn't get the joke. Just not my idea for how to spend my time. There were a whole lot of good books out there waiting to be read. And I was starting to get good politics both on MPR while driving around the state, and when closer  to the metro, from Al Franken and Stephanie Miller. (You gotta have a  strong radio signal, and unlike FM public radio with branches all over the state of MN,  AM stations that weren't right wing crazy were limited to dense populations.) On MPR I could hear things like an analysis of what the latest Supreme Court ruling meant, or flip to classical music for some relaxing while I was driving. 

Then several things happened. I retired, moved to Arizona, stopped listing to their public radio classics (because who really needs to hear Scheherazade 4 times a day just because that year it was in their top 100?) Anyway, I wasn't driving more than a mile most days so why bother with the radio?  Stephanie Miller went to Free Speech TV where I could watch as well as listen, and unlike these days, it was included in our TV package at the base price. These days that just isn't in the budget, and sitting for three hours in front of the TV is reserved for some good PBS weekend programs, recorded, and thus watched with interruptions nullified by "pause".

Once Colbert came on CBS, he was recorded automatically. We both watched his monologues religiously, along with certain features like puppy dog rescue, or First Drafts with his wife. Once it came to the celebrities, who cared? The TV either went off or to some other recorded program. I don't know, nor care, who they are or what their latest project is. Movie? Don't go and haven't since covid  - except for two on Tuesday matinees when school was in session. Music? Yawwwnnnnnnnn. Some awards show they hope for an award from? I have no interest, opinions, nor control, and much like Steve we watch the Oscars (taped) mainly to see who died this last year that we'll miss. I guess we're getting old, but so what. May everybody be so lucky.

Colbert supported worthy causes. I'm not exact on the details but Ben and Jerry's ice cream worked with him - or vice versa - to produce a new flavor, "Americone Dream" whose proceeds go to charity. It's still there, a top ten seller, and still supporting charities. We bought some and enjoyed it, recommend it if you like a reason to support those more in need than you are. That's the kind of human being Colbert is. Good humor, good human.

So when CBS cancelled his show at tRump's insistence, we did our best to cancel CBS. Their local news/weather station is adequate but we shun it, opting for NBC instead. I miss Gayle King in the mornings, but still boycott. We do our best to avoid regular programming, though I confess there are a couple dramas we follow, like their Friday night lineup. but we're reaching out to other networks more, and I keep discovering more stuff on PBS to watch. Even better, I'm supporting them and as a result can pull up older programs I missed watching, like Astrid. Even if Steve hates listening to French with English subtitles. Oh well. He's got other favorites I don't get enthusiastic over. DVRs are great.

We've looked for a late night replacement. Jimmy Kimmel is as close as we can get, but right now he's doing the late summer break thing where he has some celeb we don't know or care about taking his place. I just check in once weekly to see if he's back yet, and find I'm almost indifferent that he's not. There's other stuff to watch, read, or do at that time. He's just not Colbert.

I can only hope for myself and millions of others that Stephen Colbert returns to somewhere easily watchable, with enough fanfare that we actually hear about it and can put a timer on it/him again. In the meantime, I hope he saved and invested wisely during the years he reigned on late night TV, and enjoys a financially comfortable retirement for as long as he wishes. 

I have no idea whether, if/when he comes back, he'll be able to gather his team back. Proving what a class act he is, he made a very public pitch on their behalf to others in the industry to hire them, touting their talent and skills. I'm hoping the world listened and they found new good jobs, the way every one of his rescue puppies found homes over the years.

But I'm selfish. I WANT STEPHEN COLBERT BACK ON MY TV!!!!!

And by the way: If anybody is planning to bring back really good stuff on TV again, I put in my vote for a return of Babylon 5!!! Watched it through twice, taped it on VHS - bad tech - then bought the DVDs to watch again. They didn't survive AZ heat all that long. Got the books explainng the details and back stories for each episode, including emphasis on funniest comment, usually from Inanova. If they can bring back Gunsmoke and MASH, it's past time to do so with Babylon 5 for a whole new audience to add to the nostalgic one.

Brain Boggled... Or Not?

I've been watching PBS episodes of Nova lately, the ones trying to explain black holes, what we've learned and how, what they are, how they started, what's inside, how they'll end.

They have answered a bunch of questions for me, or at least as much as thoughts ending in we-don't-know or we-can't-tell-yet-but-our-latest-theory-is... can produce in answers. Every time I think I understand what they just presented, more questions pop up.

Some concepts from the series stick. Black holes collect galaxies around them and shape them. Stuff actually does escape. They eat stars, and presumably their solar systems. We can't tell what goes on inside the event horizon... but we sort of think we can. And not to be ignored, the graphics in the presentations were fantastic. Mostly. Using a rushing river as an analogy was just silly.

My basic starting place with trying to understand them was wondering what came before and what happens after. What's weird is now that I think that was pretty well explained, I kind of just expanded my question to wondering exactly what eternity is. My understanding was somehow a big bang happened and we have a universe with stars and planets and some with life and some not, and everything is moving somewhere else. Somewhere in all that I didn't lose my thoroughly taught belief in the conservation of matter and energy. Only now the two are more mixed than separate because that seems to be what/how black holes do. From there I go to the idea that the big bang had to have something in mass or energy before it banged, or where did anything come from? Now add in the concept that black holes change mass and energy, maybe by interchanging them into each other... or not.

Eventually the black holes will have sucked in everything, and at that point they won't exist themselves any more. Mass is energy if looked at on the atomic level, everything having a charge of positive, negative or neutral. Those tiny things combine to become atoms, combine to become bigger atoms, combine to become molecules, ad infinitum. Hydrogen crashes into hydrogen and makes helium, crashes again.... When the black holes die in the far future, the energy ends, so mass goes away back to nothing.

Except does it? 

What is infinity anyway? Where did the big bang come from? What is left when the universe is over? How can/could either of those things happen? So far 14 billion years is mind blowing enough. But that just brings us up to around now. Presumably billions more years will pass before everything "goes away" - whatever that will actually mean. Does everything return to its simplest energy? And if so, isn't that what we think started it all, and why we call it the Big Bang? Is this merely one cycle among endless other cycles, of boom, construction, destruction, and starting over again? Is infinity so large as a concept that forever actually has meaning? Will everything just keep cycling and cycling and cycling and...?

But you know what? I've only got a few years ahead to wonder about things like that. I'm just going to picture the universe as a Slinky, endlessly stretching, contracting, not in seconds like the toy, but in successive forevers. Let's put some fun back into the unknowable, eh?

Will anybody live long enough to prove the conservation of mass/energy? It's a handy idea to use, simplifying lots of math and such.  It that's inescapably true, then we have a slinky universe. So who's got the staircase that the slinky started down on? 

I guess this is the point where people start inventing gods again. Or would there be people next time around?

But... When I Turn 100....!

No, I'm not actually planning on living that long. Sure, one of my parents nearly made it, but I tend more to take after the other one in a lot of physical ways, so mostly I'm not shooting for much past 90. It seems sufficient enough... at least for now.

Why am I thinking about this? It started with a totally weird letter I got today, claiming I hold two health insurance policies for my Medicare Part D plan. For those who haven't needed to know yet - bless your hearts - that involves coverage for medications.

My first reaction was that this was so improbable that somebody somewhere wasted money on mailing out some new approach to a scam. More of a waste since postage rates just went up. It was just too weird to be anything else. There was a number to call, and they were still open after suppertime (with or without supper, which for me meant without, and not likely until I straightened this out.) So I got out my insurance cards, called the the drug store I do business with because the plan covers their prices, and verified exactly who they have on record as providing my coverage. Yep, exactly who I thought, just one company, and last year's company, whose card I still hadn't cleaned out of my purse for some reason, was no longer providing coverage. OK, it seemed like a reach, but most years I have a few months of deductibles before full pharmacy coverage and this year I haven't had any.  I figured there was a 5% chance I had a problem with paying for overlapping coverage. They verified only one company was paying for my meds.

So I called the company, and will freely admit I started out with an attitude! No nasty words, just plenty of tone. The person on the other end of the line wanted me to verify information. It this was a scam, I wasn't about to give them any. So we went back and forth a couple times - he had remarkable patience - to locate information they should already have if this was an official inquiry. We finally settled that, and found out that the two insurance company names were the same company, same policy, just a name change at the top of the year. Merger maybe? Who knows? I was covered, all I needed to know.

OK, so that wasn't the source of their inquiry. I was directed to a line on the form showing I'd had another company's insurance years ago, and they needed to know if I still carried it. Was I covered in some other way, like at work, or my car insurance?

BINGO !!!  I looked at that date I was supposed to be covered. It was long ago but very quietly rang a niggly bell. I'd never heard of that company, and it wasn't, in fact, my insurance. But the date was the day I had been rear-ended by a school bus, requiring an ambulance ride and a bunch of diagnostic hospital tests. Yes, my neck hurt but at worst it was a little sprain. Back then I had more problems from my shoulders when I had to move my arms out of the way for clear images. That arthritis already was severe back then. That's the part I remembered. The tests were agony! I didn't pay a penny for the imaging, a procedure I can't even get now with my pacemaker. I assume either the school or the bus company had the insurance which covered every penny, and my personal auto insurance company held their feet to the fire until every penny owed was paid. I was never bothered by hearing or reading a name.

Once that was  explained, I assured this company I never actually had that insurance policy, never knew who they were, and was not, in fact, getting double coverage from a second company. Problem solved!

I didn't hang up before verifying that with the two names I did recognize I hadn't been paying them double Part D premiums. Darn it! A tiny part of me was hoping somehow their records had gotten screwed up enough that I'd been being charged double premiums and would get a refund. Sighhhh.... no such luck.

In all this process I had noted one (other) weird thing on their form.  They showed an expiration date on my prescription coverage of what theoretically will be my 100th birthday! As stated above, I don't anticipate that to be an issue. But I wonder if, should I make it that long, do they stop covering my pharmacy needs? Would I need a different company? Policy? Do they reward my potential longevity with free meds after 100?

Yeah, I don't believe that either. It might be fun to check however, if it ever becomes relevant. But right now it's supper time. Hmm, ham sandwich with pepperjack on raisin toast? With or without chive & onion cream cheese? There's almost a teaspoon left of that. Bye!