tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79768154328057744452023-10-25T06:16:01.420-07:00life is a battle of semantics-matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00554962032993002942noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7976815432805774445.post-4515658776117038542011-12-08T12:14:00.001-08:002011-12-08T12:16:11.466-08:00Mired in SEO hellI am trying to put together some improvements for my business <a href="http://www.mattschaub.massagetherapy.com">website </a> and feel like I am bashing my head against a wall.-matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00554962032993002942noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7976815432805774445.post-35116480541571478562011-01-20T05:26:00.000-08:002011-01-20T05:28:03.100-08:0050 years ago today.....and today<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; ">"So let us begin anew -- remembering on both sides that civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof. Let us never negotiate out of fear, but let us never fear to negotiate.<br /><br />Let both sides explore what problems unite us instead of belaboring those problems which divide us."</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Commentary on today's political climate in the aftermath of the tragedy in Tucson? Nope. Those words are from exactly 50 years ago - today is the 50th anniversary of JFK's inaugural address. Granted, they were written in regard to the Cu<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; ">ban missile crisis, but they are as poignant and apt today as they were then.<br /><br />Time to play nice, people. Try talking to each other instead of closing your eyes and screaming your beliefs at people who don't see things the way you do. People are always going to have differences of opinion, we can learn to live with them/each other, or we can continue down our current path of divisiveness and mistrust. It's up to us.<br /><br />That is all.<br /><br />:)</span></span></span></div>-matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00554962032993002942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7976815432805774445.post-75673898869927492482009-01-07T06:57:00.000-08:002009-01-07T07:09:42.289-08:00Yah, sure....ya betcha!Ask an American what accents/dialects they think are the most distinct, and you probably will get answers that include Boston and New York first, followed by either Minnesota or Texas. If you ask the hearer to tell you what a Minnesota accent sounds like, odds are that they will either try to do a line from the movie <em>Fargo</em> or they will elongate the /o/ sound and say “Minnesoooooooota”. If you ask somebody who has actually been there, they might give you a “oh ya, you know” or a “yah sure, you betcha”, two phrases which are stereotypically Minnesotan, or at least representative of North Central American English.<br /><br />My girlfriend is from a small town in rural Minnesota about eighty miles north of the Twin Cities so she is a perfect person to study not only because she is native to Minnesota, but also the fact that we live together makes observation and data collection rather simple. We have been together three years and have lived in the same house for the vast majority of that time, during which I have noticed how her speech patterns vary – not just from mine, but how the strength of her accent can vary from time to time. Her accent becomes more pronounced when she has a few (or more) alcoholic beverages and also after she has spoken with a fellow Minnesotan for any extended period of time, either on the phone or in person. I believe this to be a common occurrence for anyone who moves away from where they learned how to speak, that when they are re-assimilated, their accent comes back temporarily as stronger. Aside from accent, there are many other differences in the way(s) we speak. I also lived in the Midwest, but I learned English overseas, so I believe my accent to be a blend of all sorts of things, although people can often tell I lived in the Midwest.<br /><br />The most readily noticeable differences are often found in the colloquialisms employed by Minnesotans, many of which identify the speaker as such. Some of the most common examples include “uff-da”, which is a Norwegian expression that can be used to mean anything from expressing sorrow, excitement, dismay, exhaustion and any number of feelings. It is a true catch-all expression, the meaning of which is expressed by the speaker’s tone. Another common one is “you betcha” or the longer, friendlier “oh yah, you betcha”, which is used in affirmation. Instead of saying that something which cost a lot of money was expensive, it very common for “spendy” to be the adjective used to describe cost. One of the more ubiquitous Minnesotan phrases has to be “hot dish”, a term used to describe any type of casserole. <br /><br />The above examples are common ones, all of which I had heard before living with my Minnesotan girlfriend, and I have heard her use every single one of those multiple times. In our conversations, I have noticed a couple of phrases that she uses which are the only variants I have heard on what I consider to be fairly common phrases. One is the way she says “kitty-wonka” in an instance where everybody I know would use “caddywampus”, to describe a situation in which affairs are out of order. Some internet research led me to a definition of caddywampus as meaning the same as kitty-corner, and I also found it spelled “kittywampus” and defined as “utter chaos, as if a kitten had run through the room”. Another phrase that really jumped out at me was her term for the (usually teenage male) practice of skidding one’s car around in an empty parking lot, leaving skid marks in the snow. I have always heard it referred to as “doing donuts”, but Laura calls it “whipping shitties”. The first time she said it, I was more than a little bit confused, to say the least. Internet research shows that it is a term used in the Upper Midwest, but it was a new one to me!<br /><br />Aside from the differences in colloquialisms, there are many phonetic differences between North Central American English (the regional dialect that includes Minnesota) and American English. One of the more common words by which a Minnesotan can be identified is the word “boat”, which to speakers of American English contains the /oʊ/ sound commonly found in “go home”. In Minnesota, the vowel sound becomes more of a close-mid back rounded vowel /o/, which is not a common sound in English; this is likely some residual effect of Canadian raising that has (geographically) worked its way down to Minnesota. <br /><br />Another linguistic feature is that of the Northern Cities Shift; the caught/cot merger is present, as is the dipthongization of the /æ/ vowel sound when it occurs before a consonant, resulting in what almost sounds like a Southern drawl, but just for that one word. For some speakers, the /æ/ sound merges with /eɪ/ when the vowel is followed directly by the consonant /g/, such that words like “bag” and “flag” rhyme with “vague” and have the same vowel sound as in the word “race”.<br /><br />Speakers from Minnesota are often readily identifiable by their accent, which they of course don’t think they have. That is probably the case pretty much everywhere, though – if everybody in your immediate surroundings speaks the same way as you do, you don’t think of it as an accent. An accent is what <strong><em>everybody else</em></strong> has – that seems to me to be the belief in most regions of the United States.-matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00554962032993002942noreply@blogger.com58tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7976815432805774445.post-15177573009993447152008-10-09T07:05:00.000-07:002008-10-09T07:10:13.908-07:00here's a different way to look at the "election"People need to stop listening to the "issues" and concentrate on the men themselves.<br /><br />How can I say that? Simple - has any president, ever, lived up to their campaign promises?<br /><br />Nope.<br /><br />So, look at the men and see which one you trust. Pretty simple.<br /><br />John McCain was legacied into the US Naval Acadamy (his father and grandfather were both admirals), he graduated 895th out of a class of 899. He was such a Mavericky pilot that if today's Naval standards were applied then, he would have been grounded for his stupid antics.<br /><br />Obama was raised by a single mom, sometimes eating food bought with food stamps. He worked his ass off to get scholarships to very good schools and did a great job there, too.<br /><br />Which one sounds like a better leader who can relate to the "common man"?<br /><br />The guy who has seven houses and thirteen cars? Or the guy who shares one hybrid vehicle with his wife?<br /><br />One comment on their policy claims: who do you like - the guy who is willing to raise his own taxes or the guy who is going to give himself (and his ultra-rich wife's family) a tax break?<br /><br />Trickle-down economics didn't work the first time, either.-matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00554962032993002942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7976815432805774445.post-55142446287625385072008-10-06T15:01:00.001-07:002008-10-06T15:29:38.627-07:00I'm back, baby!After a self-imposed hiatus, I am back and hopefully better than ever. We'll get things started up slowly, with some simple posts and see how things are rolling before I start swinging away with the heavy ammunition (Mmmmm...mixed metaphors...yummy!) and get to the things that are really weighing on my mind.<br /><div><div><div><br />I will do my best from here on out to try and post at least one book review per month and hope to create a couple of recurring weekly entries - one will almost definitely be 'This Week's Sign of the Impending Apocolypse'.</div><div><br />That having been said, here is a cute little story; we were discussing poetry in a Literature class I am taking this semester and the professor had us take five minutes to see if we could come up with a time-relavent <em>haiku</em>. Ask and ye shall receive: </div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><em>A hockey mom</em></div><div><em>Does not a vice-president make</em></div><div><em>Go home governor</em></div></div><br /><div><div></div><div align="center">___________________________________________________</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>-matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00554962032993002942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7976815432805774445.post-25666050254800627552008-01-09T12:19:00.000-08:002008-01-09T12:25:59.045-08:00Book Review<div align="justify">Most first-time novels can be seen as obviously that, a first novel - and it is difficult for the author to hide that fact. Not so in the case of Paco Ahlgren’s debut book, <em>Discipline</em> – Ahlgren writes with the confidence of an author who has been published for many years. He is unafraid to introduce to the reader many topics that are not part of most people’s everyday discussion…to say the least. It is not often that somebody can combine high finance, metaphysics, personal demons, chess, politics and psychology and make it digestible, but Ahlgren does that (and more), and does it with seemingly remarkable ease. The characters are well-constructed, but without the glut of back-story found so often in debut novels, as the author is struggling to make sure you get the minutiae. The reader does get a good look back at the life story of the protagonist, Douglas Cole, but that is integral to the story line. Ahlgren trusts you to engage in the story, learning about the characters as you go, thereby freeing up the pages for more action and intrigue, of which there is plenty. Told primarily in the first person from Douglas Cole’s point of view, <em>Discipline</em> takes the reader on a wild ride across the metaphysical map, between continents and through cities as Cole struggles to cope with his own personal demons while, at the same time, making decisions that could impact everyone’s economic future. The book gives its readers the opportunity to ask themselves some insightful questions, as well as to ponder some interesting “what-if”s in regards to the way our world is run.</div>-matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00554962032993002942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7976815432805774445.post-25318704057113424982007-12-14T15:20:00.001-08:002008-08-07T07:37:51.768-07:00Life is a Battle of SemanticsIn a world where less and less emphasis is placed on proper word usage and sentence structure, one might think it would be the charge of the higher education institution to take up the cause of preserving the last few remaining vestiges of proper grammar. It is, but that's not the entire equation, it is up to all of us, individually and as a whole. You can go just about anywhere in today's America and be assaulted by improper punctuation on signage, misspellings in newspapers and magazines (publications which have specific employees whose job it is to ensure accuracy) and a complete lack of couth in radio/TV/online marketing. Who is to blame for all of these perversions? In no particular order, the main culprits we will examine here are the President of the United States, the general apathy of the American public, the Internet and the education system as a whole.<br /><br />Start a discourse on improper word usage and one need look no further than the appointed leader of this country and cringe at the word vomit that comes spewing from his mouth. The supposed leader of the free world famously inquiring (on the campaign trail in 2000) "Rarely is the questioned asked: Is our children learning?" helped to spurn an entire industry based on one man's malapropisms. Is this making too big a deal out of nothing? Imagine if everybody who has spent twelve dollars at any one of the many stores that sell the little desk calendars of 'Bushisms' had spent that money instead on a book for a child who didn't have one to read? The fact that there is an entire cottage industry built on the foundation of the President of the United States' inability to wrap his tongue around a well-spoken sentence should scare people senseless. But it doesn't, does it? Why not? Because people just don't care anymore, laziness is everywhere and the linguistic perversions it permits are pervading our patterns of speech.<br /><br />As the famous author and professor Norman Cousins asserted in his autobiography Human Options, "It makes little difference how many university courses or degrees a person may own. If he cannot use words to move an idea from one point to another, his education is incomplete." While it would be nice for college-level instructors to be able to truly prepare their students for 'the real world' by polishing their language skills and tailoring them to fit the students' path of study, there probably just aren't enough hours in anybody's day to see that become a reality. Too many assumptions are made giving college students the benefit of the doubt when it comes to their competency with the written word. How many college freshman, upon the successful completion of the requisite composition class, can properly define all of the following terms: alliteration, hyperbole, juxtaposition, irony, run-on sentence and redundancy? Probably not many, but then how could one conceivably complete a college composition class without knowing which of the countless words we have at our disposal to use at which specific point in any given sentence at any given time to properly make the requisite point required to clarify what needs to be made clear?!?<br /><br />It is not fair to lay the blame solely at the feet of the instructors of the higher education institution, to be sure – much of it has to do with the tools given them. Students used to have to be able to read books to do research papers, whereas now it is not out of the realm of the feasible to think that one could get through 80% of college without actually having to open a book, all other research/reading/writing would be done through a computer. That may be all well and good, but is the assertion of this writer that something is lost when the words are pixels on a screen as opposed to ink on a page. Words on a computer screen feel sterile; they don't have the depth and meaning that the same words do spelled out in ink across nice thick pages, when the musty smell from the binding glue permeates the air as an old book is opened in a windowless room. The image of words flashing across a monitor is just that, an image of the words, fleeting, soon to be replaced by other images. It is the very fact that those words (or images thereof) are so fleeting that lends more fuel to the fire – most people delete emails after they're done reading them, most people who send emails know this, so they don't worry about capitalizing or punctuation because, hey, it's just an email, right? Falling victim to this trap is just another step down the slippery slope we are now sliding down - we as a society are losing our ability to communicate effectively.<br /><br />What can we do to slow this decline? As mentioned earlier, buy a book for someone who needs it and wouldn't otherwise be able to get one. Donate your used books to a local school library. Sponsor a neighborhood child in their summer reading program, as those programs get more attention, they will hopefully get more recognition and funding. A library skills class should be an 8th grade graduation requirement and high school teachers and college instructors should be encouraged to assign research papers where no online resources are allowed. Call for more accountability from your superiors/teachers/instructors/government officials/journalists – anyone who uses words for a living should be thick-skinned enough to have them evaluated.<br /><br />If you see a mistake in a newspaper/magazine/online resource, take the time and <strong><em>nicely </em></strong>point out their mistake to them – some will actually appreciate it.<br /><br />Above all, don't further perpetuate the stereotype of the 'typical lazy American' and just put your name on something that you've done that looks like it might be finished, especially if it is at all important. Read it, re-read it, give it to someone else to read, then re-read it again. Take some pride in your use of words and you'll be better positioned to succeed in whatever path you follow throughout your life.-matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00554962032993002942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7976815432805774445.post-71575399195860238242007-07-25T10:59:00.000-07:002007-07-25T13:41:36.448-07:00What is Art?<div align="justify">What is Art? Now, that is a loaded question. I believe something is art if its primary function is to be sensory, whether visual and/or aural; whether to please the eyes/ears or shock them, that part is left up to the viewer/reader/listener. (There is, of course also commercial art, which for the sake of this discussion, we will shelve.) If it’s a painting, it doesn’t have to be pretty, if it’s a movie, it doesn’t even have to be good. If it is a sculpture, it does not have to be anatomically correct. If it is true that clichés exist for a reason and beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder, then that at first may seem like a quick easy answer to the question, but one can not automatically equate art with beauty. Some art is unquestionably ugly, and that may well be what the artist was seeking. I would ultimately submit that a more apt cliché would be ‘to each his own’. </div><br /><div align="justify"><br />‘What is Art?’ is such a specific question and ultimately an unimportant one. Did somebody put their heart and soul into it? Was there a creative vision behind the work in question? Does it move me? These are the real questions we should ask. </div><div align="justify"><br /> </div><br /><div align="justify">‘What is Art?’ That seemingly innocuous three-word query has afforded a certain group of people a living since about the end of the 19th century. Without that one short question, there would be no need for that insidious breed of person, the art critic. In what other occupation does a seemingly normal person spend their working days (and/or nights) finding new ways to belittle an artist’s creative vision? Any artist making art for the sake of art should ostensibly not have any concerns over what a critic may or may not think, unless they are just pandering to the critics to get good reviews, in which case they’re not worried about making ‘good art’, but more interested in the adulation. Having said that, there is of course a fine line to tread; everyone needs to eat, and not everybody has a benefactor (like Vincent Van Gogh had with his brother, Theo) who will pay their way! </div><div align="justify"><br /> </div><br /><div align="justify">‘What is Art?’ There are many obvious examples which spring to mind when this question is asked – Michelangelo’s <em>David</em>, Edward Hopper’s <em>Nighthawks</em>, Van Gogh’s <em>Wheatfield with Crows</em> and Auguste Rodin’s The Thinker all spring readily to mind as ‘easy’ examples of pieces that one would be hard-pressed to find somebody to say that they are not art. While works like those named above are considered art by almost anybody who walks upright and they all have special places in art museums, does that mean that they are without a doubt ‘Art’? Yeah, pretty much. Fair enough, but why are those examples considered to be art any more so than little Johnny’s mess of glue and glitter on construction paper that he completed (quite possibly getting more glue on his tongue than on the paper) so diligently while sitting in kindergarten? Well, if you ask Johnny’s parents odds are you’ll hear them gushing about “(their) little Picasso” – and why not, especially if beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder? </div><div align="justify"><br /> </div><br /><div align="justify">The Art Institute of Chicago has a permanent installation of furniture from the mid-1900’s (right around the corner from the Marc Chagall stained-glass windows and on the same level as Nighthawks). Just because Eames chairs are pleasing to the eye (and brutally expensive), does that make them art? Not in this writer’s humble opinion – they are pieces of furniture, which are functional and seem a touch out of place in an art museum. Not to say that an Eames chair isn’t aesthetically pleasing, but its functionality precludes it from being art, at least first. Its primary role is that of a chair, so that’s what it is, a chair. Granted, it may have an artistic design, but that does not make it art. Could one say that it is a ‘work of art’? I suppose many people do, but I submit that they are taking liberties with their use of language. </div><div align="justify"><br /><br />What about items of antiquity from throughout history? The Art Institute of Chicago’s famous exhibit of medieval weaponry and armament is endlessly fascinating to each and every 12 year old boy who goes to downtown Chicago on a field trip and walks up those expansive front steps between the lions….but is it art? (That, of course, begs another question – just because it is hanging in a museum, does that make it art?) What about religious artifacts, which seem to find a place in nearly every art museum on the planet? Why is it that a gilt-laden (pun intended) Bible can be found in the vast majority of art museums in the Western world, while a handmade dreidel is better suited for the Holocaust Museum? </div><div align="justify"><br /><br />What is Art? Art is what each and every one of us wants it to be, it is not what the local art critic tells you it is. It is not what your Art History professor tells you it is. It is not what this writer asserts. It is not what is hanging on the walls of your local museum. It is not what you hear at the symphony. It might be, but it doesn’t have to be. If it is art to you, then so be it. To each, his own. </div>-matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00554962032993002942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7976815432805774445.post-23419338684746999572007-07-25T10:47:00.000-07:002007-07-25T13:48:37.231-07:00breaking up with the internet<div align="justify">Dear Internet,<br /><br /></div><div align="justify">I think we need to discuss our relationship, as I believe it is no longer a healthy one for me. When we first met back in 1993, I was a fresh-faced college student – you, too, were just learning your way around campus. We’ve been through a lot since that fateful day in the (then) new computer commons at Colorado State University when I first sat down across from you and looked at you and you stared back, unblinking. Back then, neither of us had any real idea where this alliance would take us; I wasn’t really looking for anything serious, but you knew right away that you wanted a long-term relationship. Why, oh why then did you have to choose me? Was I that easy of a target? Could you see in my eyes the desire to be accepted by you? Did you start off with good intentions that slowly became perverted with time? Did you just want to share information with me and allow me to share information with others? Or are you just evil, pure evil all the way down to the very core of your being? Even when it seems like you are helping, I think maybe you are really hurting me.<br /><br />Did you know that my fanatical obsession with the meaningless minutiae of sports statistics would lead to an average of 3 hours each day researching fantasy football, fantasy baseball, fantasy hockey, fantasy basketball and fantasy golf? Of course you did. Did you also know that all that time spent basking in the glow of the athletic achievements of others would cause my own muscles to atrophy to a point where I can no longer throw a football, hit a baseball, stand on ice skates, dribble a basketball or swing a golf club? Of course you did.<br /><br />You should take a cue from disgruntled wives everywhere and not let me access you when I’ve been drinking. If you had just done this for me, protected me from something I wanted when you knew it wasn’t good for me, then I would not need to live in a 4-bedroom house with just you. I would not currently have 4 dressers, 3 coffee tables, an armoire, 2 headboards and a credenza in my garage, all in various stages of undress, but none having gone through the process of stripping, refinishing and selling for which I purportedly bought them. I would not have 4 surround sound systems for my 3 TVs (also procured through you), nor would I have 13 lamps, all different, all bought ON CLEARANCE - LAST DAY, all ugly. I certainly would not have accumulated 37 credit cards, all of them promising the lowest rates for balance transfers, yet none of them managing to live up to those claims. I highly doubt that my kitchen would have become a veritable Coca-Cola collector’s cache without you – I never liked trinkets and do-dads, but you make it so easy to buy anything and everything under the sun that I just go ahead and keep clicking ‘add to cart’…but, hey, that’s why I have 37 credit cards!<br /><br />Without you, I never would have learned about the online communities of MySpace, Classmates, or Facebook - which would never have allowed any of my psychotic ex-girlfriends to track me down and send me emails ranging from the charmingly deranged to the downright frightening. Thanks to your ability to shrink the globe and open up lines of communication the people I didn’t have time for in my past are now a part of my everyday life. By virtue of having so many ‘friends’ and acquaintances whom I know only through you, I have all but eliminated having to actually deal with people in person. Eh, who needs actual human interaction these days anyway, right? Too much actual face-to-face communication might allow people to share real emotions and opinions, and that couldn’t be a good thing for society, could it? If it weren’t for you, I might still be able to talk to people when I meet them in ‘the outside world’ without my mouse fingers twitching. Without you, my skin wouldn’t have taken on this attractive pallor, a dead giveaway as to how much time we spend together in our dark room, shutting out the light of day.<br /><br />Email, what about email, you ask? I agree, it’s nice to not have to speak to people any more when I have something colorful to say, much easier to type it in black letters on a white background. It’s especially nice because with email, unlike actual conversation, one leaves interpretation of the tone of the message entirely up to the recipient. This is especially fun when I try to convey sarcasm in a message, and instead of eliciting the laughing reply I anticipated, I get either an expletive-laden tirade or no reply at all. Oh well, if they don’t get me, it’s their loss, right?<br /><br />Even with all of these wonderful things you’ve given me (and I didn’t even mention the joys of carpal tunnel syndrome, the aching back, the fading eyesight or the permanently kinked neck), I just don’t think that this is a healthy relationship any longer. When I’m away from you, I crave you – when I’m with you, I feel guilty and sometimes happy to feel that guilt, and that’s just not healthy. I am underperforming at my job because I am too busy tracking all of my pending purchases on eBay. I no longer feel the need to communicate in any interpersonal way with any of my peers. I would rather watch a live webcam feed of what’s happening anywhere in the world than actually go there and see it with my own two eyes. I find myself breaking out in a cold sweat if I can’t hear the message alert when a new email comes in. I have lost all ability to differentiate between fantasy football and real football. I have become an ordained minister of 32 denominations, but I can’t remember the last time I saw the inside of a church. I correspond with people from all over the world, but I doubt if I can pick up a pen and write the alphabet in proper block letters, much less cursive. I need these things back in my life and I can’t get them while I still have you around, so that, my dear, is why we must part ways.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />-me<br /><br />p.s. – I love you, call me.<br /> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div>-matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00554962032993002942noreply@blogger.com0