the cat's yyyn**nyyy yyyn**nyy y$ yyyn**nyy yyyn*nyyn*nyy yyyn**nyy yyyn**nyy $$$ $$$ $$$ $$ $$ $$$ $$ $$$ $$ $$ $$$ $$ $$$ $$ # $$$SssS$$$ $$$ ## $$ s$ ### $$ $$$ ## $$ $$$ ## $ # $$ $$$ ## $$ $$$ ## $$ # % $$$ %%%%%% $$$n**n$$ $$$ %%% $$ $$$ynny$$ $$$ %%%%%% $$ $$$n**n$$ $$$n**nyy % # $$$ ###### $$$ ## $$ $$$ ### $$ $$$ ## $$ $$$ ###### $$ $$$ ## $$ ,,, ## $$ # $$' $$' $$ $$$n**ny$$ $$' $$ $$' $$ $$' $$ $$$n**n$$ $ $ `$ $' `$ $ `$ $ `$ $ `$ $' `$ the medium sized zine ....... issue one. -- contents -------- one ..... editorial (hachi) ...................... line 25 two ..... to be young again (hachi) .............. line 55 three ... the rail-road apartment (unpossible) ... line 112 four .... female abuse (hachi) ................... line 245 five .... progress log (unpossible) .............. line 295 six ..... last words (hachi) ..................... line 728 seven ... closing (unpossible) ................... line 740 >> editorial (hachi) I'm not going to lie to you and say this is going to be a revolutionary new zine, because it isn't. As of now, this zine is really being written by two kids, both with a slight case of "downs" in a basement who have a desire to write and hit eachother with foam bats. As for the name, it came about because I love the term "the cat's pajamas". The "medium sized zine" was born because when Unpossible and I were real young there were three parks in our neighbourhood. One of the parks was not the biggest, nor the smallest, it was medium sized. This was a big part of our youth, and seeing as this zine is not going to be huge, or overly small it seemed like an approprite name. Both Unpossible and myself used to write for an underground art based emag called Doodle, but decided to go our own way. We both wanted more freedom, and a little more say in what goes on concerning the production. Well, that's about it. As for the content, you will probably see a lot of stories, and articles, some funny, some not. Who knows what will happen in the future. This might be our only release (although I doubt it) or we might do a dozen more. I have no idea. There is no time that the zine will be released, just when we get enough stuff done, that we feel is worthy to share. If anyone wants to write, by all means go ahead, we would appreciate it. Send all submissions, comments, and whatever else to mteskey@ebtech.net As of right now, the official page is www2.ebtech.net/~mteskey .. what the hell is www2 anyways, who are they trying to kid ohhwell. On with the show. >> To Be Young Again (hachi) I constantly hear kids my age talking about how they wish they were just a few years older so they can get into a bar, or live on their own, whatever it is that they want, that age can give them. I can't stand it, I am only seventeen and already I miss my youth. I am just striving to be young again. My life is full of problems, sure not as bad as some, but they are still there. Just like everyone else I took my childhood for granted, and I am now longing to have it back. As a child, I would spend a good part of the summer at a cottage, which I loved when I was real young. I would spend hours at a time in the water or playing with the pine cones that I had on a string, that I thought were alive, and a real family. I loved it there, with my cape on, and the beach near, I was truly in heaven. As I got older I grew to hate it, not the place, but just being far from friends. Now I wish I could get away from all my problems and just enjoy the sounds, smells, and visions of the beach. I really miss the cottage now, and I find myself longing for a place away from home. I wish I was back in the carefree days of my youth, when my only fears I had were if I was going to get in trouble for playing with a hammer. Now, my life is full of problems, stress, and obligations, that I wish I could just leave behind. I find myself at parties now, full of people drinking, and tripping out on all sorts of wacky shit, and I just wish for the parties when I was young. I remember as a child, going to parties, and getting a treat bag at the door filled with all sorts of goodies. I was content, and was glad to be there. Now I go with intentions of meeting new people, or doing something new and exciting, and can't except the little things that make a party great. No matter what I do now, I over-analyze, and make it less enjoyable. I wish I was still as easily amused as I was when I was ten. Right now, I am in the middle of college applications, and it is just way too stressful. I am getting yelled at by my parents to work on the art for my portfolio, but I haven't been too inspired lately. I remember my younger years, when school ended at three. There was no homework, there were no tests to study for, when the bell rang I was free until the next morning. The weekends were free to do as I pleased, and I loved it. I used to get up at the crack of dawn, and call on my friends, not call them on the phone, just going over, as if I was expected. Sure we were all home and in bed by nine, but the day was complete by then. Now I'm lucky if I get up before one, and lucky if I even leave during the day. I don't know what it is, but a few years ago, I always felt closer to my friends. Sure I have close friends now, but it just isn't the same. We all have problems, and it is hard to stay as close, especially with girls hanging around. I grew up watching the movie Stand By Me, and feeling as if that was the way friends should be. I watched that movie practically everyday after school, and I wanted to be one of those kids. I still wish I was one of them even more now then when I was younger. I need the closeness of a friend right now, but my relationships are more distant than when I was a child. I can't even depend on, or trust friends as much now. Well, that was depressing in a way.. ahhwell read on. >> the rail-road apartment (unpossible) Another train passed by my rail-road apartment, and it was no surprise. The big engines rattled my house from the inside out, day in and day out. This place was a bargain, if you could stand the noise. There wasn't anything for me here, where I was now, at this point in my life. I thought a lot these days. I thought about love a lot, and what it would be like. I used to tell everyone in town I was going out with the hot girl from the Pop Shoppe. In reality, I had pretty much lucked out on the love circuit. Was my relationship status going out with my mom to a cheap movie on Tuesday night? Probably. Sometimes I'd hang out at the Body Shop just to smell like I had been with girls. It was what I wanted most. I even thought about being gay, but I couldn't get past the part where you had to like guys. I couldn't be any less gay, I think. I don't think I can stress enough, how gay I'm not. Don't ever bring that up again. No one is actually gay. I really had never finished a thing I'd started. That ten billion piece puzzle was still sitting by the front door in its wrapping. What was I thinking with that? I'm not a thousand. I'm only twenty-five years old. I should be out raising cain on the streets or something. No, what am I saying? I'll probably just stay inside and eat a lot and and take a long nap. That's a lot more realistic. I yearned for decent night's sleep, I would have a great day then, a pleasant day at work and that the cable would stay on long enough for me to watch Must See TV, I would have a great day then. The sad thing is, this is my life. I was kind of a freakish kid growing up. I used to think I was invisible. I might as well have been. Later on, I thought I was a rock. My parents pretty much encouraged this behaviour. As long as I didn't pretend to be anything that made a lot of noise. All in all it was a disasterous childhood for me. I was too big for my body at the time. I'd trip over myself anytime I got the least bit disoriented. The townspeople would throw rocks and vegetables at me every time I stepped out the front door. My mom said that vegetables are very nutritious, but I thought the rocks really hurt. I've lost everything. The town pack-rat just stole my remote and now I think he's eyeing my pride, but I've tucked that safely somewhere in between the cushions of the couch. All I have to my name now is this rail-road apartment and some repulsive salt and pepper shakers. One looks likw the mayor of Munchkinland, and the other, in contrast, is a dead ringer for Tom Berenger, but that's not important. I live in a small town of about two thousand called Red River Valley. I jumped out of bed and made breakfast, a Pop-tart sandwich, which is my favourite. I drank my usual three Mountains Dews to wash it all down. I was trying to lower my sperm count. It was like a hobby of mine. My doctor says I'm still quite virile. He knows quite a bit about me. It's really frightening to be in a room alone with him to tell you the truth. I was milking the OHIP system for all it was worth, though. I was sending off urine samples left and right and I'm getting x-rays for bones I didn't even know I had. You should see all the cotton swaps I have in my bathroom. It's really quite astounding. Guaze? I've got gauze up to here. Don't get me started. I have plans. Today I was going to hitch a ride into town with my friend, Pascal, who really isn't my friend. I didn't know too much about him outside of our weekly outings, and frankly, I didn't care to know. He dressed in army fatigues and would bark instructions at me like a drill sergeant. A few times he threw a grenade in the pasenger seat, but it was really just a grapefruit. But he didn't know that, and I let on like I didn't know either. I'd say things like "Whoa, that was a close one." and "Fire in the hole!" and then I'd put the grapefruit in my pocket and eat it later. But like all good friends we had a need for each other: he drives me into town every day as long as I keep his secret; he has a bionic ankle. This bionic ankle has helped him to win the town sack race five years and counting, and it's really no joke. I probably blurted that story out to anyone who looked like they were listening, though. People don't seem to believe in a bionic ankle. It's a lot easier to keep a secret when no one listens to you. I believe it, though. I mean, America's Funniest Home Videos is still on the air, pretty much anything could happen. Man I'd like to punch Bob Saget right in the face. I think I speak for my entire generation. I carried out my morning routine and met Pascal by the side of the road. We rode our familiar route. Eyes foward, we did not speak, well I said "ouch" when I accidently got my finger caught in the cassette player, after it tried to eat my "Fat Boys" tape, but other than that, it was quiet. There we were, two guys, indifferent to each other, riding into town with a stench of staunch heterosexuality in the air. To say our good-byes we looked at each other and twitched the corners of our mouths. That was our bonding period. Then the moment was over, as quickly as it had came. Mysteriously, yet somehow deliberately, at the same time, Pascal disappeared from my sight. There I was in front of Wal-mart. The buzz of the neon sign almost seemed to beckon me nearer. Then I pulled it out and clenched it in my hand, precious buying power -- five dollars. As I walked through the doors I immediately took cover from the falling prices. After I realized it was just a clever ad campaign I collected myself and rose to my feet once again. As I passed through the turnstile, past a Nintendo 64 exhibit, in which Mario was immersed in some sort of 3-D polygonal world, I saw something that concecrated the grow upon which I walked. She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. They call her breed, the Wal-mart greeter. She seemed to breath forth the essence of life from her breath-hole and she kindled fires in me that went out with my youth, or fires that were extinguished with my constant intake of Mountain Dew, I really wasn't positive. She was a slightly older woman, but she was built like something out of a Play-Do Fun Factory. I couldn't resist the urge to talk to her. I was groping for words as though my life was being chronicled by some third rate English student. All I could manage were clich‚s in a clich‚ed situation; love at first sight. Our eyes met. She smiled her crooked smile and said "Hello." like any good greeter should. I was poised like a cat right then and there to strike. I was brilliant in my improvisation. I went right from her name into the bionic ankle story and somehow ended up in a a sort of free-style rap, which I'm still quite embarrassed about. But for some reason I couldn't go wrong with this girl, this woman. We played Nintendo 64 until the morning light. I commented on the beauty of the tri-linear mip-map interpolation and the use of z-buffering within the game and she said Mario was cute. She's so endearing. I just wanted to take her home and mummify her in that position forever. Now that I think of it, that is a very disturbing thought. Forget I ever said that. And then I stared deeply into her eyes and I saw the shadow of the awkward young child I used to be and reflected back was the awkward older child I had become. For one minute out of my life I had forgotten all my mistakes and just seized the opportunity of the moment. And here we sit, recounting that day a million times over. We've been married for ten years now. She's eighty-four and I'm thirty-five. The train doesn't pass here anymore. The track has long since been retired. Changes beget changes. Sooner than you know it, you're sending children off to school. Well, adopted children that is. Well, she can't have children anymore. It's about menopause or something. I don't want to go into it right now. You'll learn about it someday. Maybe I'll never win the town sack race on some bionic ankle, but I do know one thing, my friends, sometimes love comes when you least expect it and with who you least expect. >> female abuse (hachi) As I get older, it seems that I am exposed to more of the realities of life. I guess this makes perfect sense, but I miss the days where my picture perfect family shielded me from the outside world, and I thought every family was just like my own. The one thing that I keep hearing about more and more, is the topic of woman abuse. I always knew it was out there, I mean I saw the episode of Rosanne where Jacky was hit, but it always seemed so distant. It seems to me now, that a great number of women have been hit, and a lot of them are only my age. This is a scary thought to think that I only know a few women my age real close, and they have already experienced violence. I don't really want to get into it because these things were told to me in privacy, and are not meant to be shared with the whole world, but I am angered to hear that this goes on. I have absolutely no idea how a guy could bring himself to hit a girl. I mean, I think we have all been in the situation where we want to, I know I have, but I have yet to do it, and I never will. I would like to think that there is nothing that could make a guy hit a girl, but I guess some guys don't think it is a big deal. This is not the thing that troubles me the most, sure I can't stand men who would do that, but in reality, it can't be stopped. The thing that really gets to me is that the women go back. Out of the people I know, they still thought the guys loved them. Sure, after he breaks a rib or a nose or something, he might say he does, but if he truly did, he wouldn't have done it in the first place. The girls always seem to blame themselves, like if they didn't anger their mate, they would have never been hit. So they wind up thinking that it is okay that they were hit, and that they deserved it. AHHHHHHH, I can't deal with this. I was chatting with a real close friend about it, and she said that the guy probably would still love the person he had just beat. Okay, NO. You don't hit the people you love, you try and make the people you love happy, safe, and not have them live their life in fear. Girls seem to accept it, like thinking that how their boyfriend bruised their back in the shape of a heart is romantic. Well, not that bad, but close. This is total bullshit. I mean there are dozens upon dozens of support groups and homes for women who have been abused, but I see nothing being done for the people who have not been hit, but may be in the future. Schools, and the media teach us not to drink and drive before we do it. They are not concerned with the people who have already been through it. Sure they support the ones who have been hurt, but they educate the potentail victims. I would love to get called down for an assembly at school, not to hear how not to get aids, or how we shouldn't drink and drive, but instead teach women how to recognize someone who is a potential beater, or how to get out right away, and how the guys don't love them if they are getting hit. I mean we wear ribbons, and have marches against female abuse, but we could do so much more. We have to get to the women before they are abused. I just think that we could indeed stop this before it happens, and not just help the ones who have been hurt already. >> progress log [ unpossible ] Including this is in the zine will probably be a bad hangover in the morning, but then again I've never really had a good hangover in the morning. I was just routing through some of my past writings for school and I came across this log of which I wrote for my Writer's Craft class. In the class we were supposed to write what we did in class everyday but I decided to do it all at the last minute before the log was due. If nothing else it will provide some insight into the process of writing the Rail-road Apartment. I don't know how I pieced this together. I imagine mostly from acid flashbacks, but I'm not sure. I'm not gonna lie and say I'm not mad with power, because I am. I had a teacher once, which I was convinced was a cyborg. Possibly sent from the future. Powered by liquor. But, I digest... September 4, 1996 First day of school. Wow, this class isn't at all what I expected. Sept. 5, 1996 You write a whole lot in this class, I'm not sure if that's good...yet. Sept. 6, 1996 I think I'm developing carpal tunnel syndrome. Sept. 9, 1996 I should have purchased more paper. Sept. 10, 1996 I'm really scared of what the independent studies are going to be like. Sept. 11, 1996 Captain's log, Stardate 091196: I cannot move my hand. Sept. 12, 1996 Thank god it's Friday. Ah, crap, it's only Thursday. Sept. 13, 1996 I'm really surprised at how much I can write about nothing now. I had better tuck that skill away. Sept. 16, 1996 At least we write for shorter intervals now. Sept. 17, 1996 I just noticed we don't do a whole lot of work in this class. I like that. Sept. 18, 1996 This has to be, hands down, my favourite class. Sept. 19, 1996 Is it a bad sign, if you don't really know *if* you're learning anything? Sept. 20, 1996 Somehow I still feel enriched. It's like I'm filing the miscellaneous thoughts floating around in my head. Sept. 23, 1996 I don't know why I write an entry for my sick days. I just feel obliged to do so, for some reason. Sept. 24, 1996 No, I'm still not very fond of reading things in front of the class. Sept. 25, 1996 I think someone in this class is trying to bring it down from the inside. I can just smell it. Sept. 26, 1996 Does it really matter what I write in this log? I sincerely hope not. Sept. 27, 1996 I should write these in class, really. I forget what goes on. But I always remember, in some way, that I had fun! Sept. 30, 1996 Wow, just a month of this class. Already I have wrote more here, then I have in my entire life. October 1, 1996 So am I doing good or bad in this class? It's really hard to say. I get a Check +, Check -, Check...I'm unsure. Oct. 2, 1996 I like stories. Oct. 3, 1996 Keeping a log is the bomb. Oct. 4, 1996 It's Friday and I'm free once again. Oct. 7, 1996 Ah, it's Monday time to put the shackels back on. Oct. 8, 1996 I mean the, uh...shackels of fun! Oct. 9, 1996 I hope this log isn't marked on coherence. Oct. 10, 1996 Login, logout. Ha ha, nevermind. Oct. 11, 1996 Look at all the pretty colours of the trees. No, really. Oct. 14, 1996 This is the worst progress log I've ever seen. But in a way, it's also the best. Oct. 15, 1996 I don't think I'm making progress. I think I'm actually getting dumber. Oct. 16, 1996 Wednesday, you have no feeling. Oct. 17, 1996 I long to be outside frolicking among the leaves and the wonders of nature. But instead I'm in class, writing God knows what. But having a great time of it! Oct. 18, 1996 I'd like to do a movie for my independent study. Oct. 21, 1996 The teacher says he's never seen a good movie done for an independent study. Oh well, it was a bad idea anyway. Oct. 22, 1996 More and more I think the teacher of this class is omniscient. Write 150 sentences, you've got to be kidding. Oct. 23, 1996 Hand in some stuff today. Oh, who am I kidding, I've got the whole week. Oct. 24, 1996 I was surprised at what little we did with those sentences. Oct. 25, 1996 Mental note, hand in work on its due date. I can't stress that enough. Oct. 28, 1996 I can't wait 'til November and I don't know why. Oct. 29, 1996 Wow, I sure am developing as a writer as well as a person. Oct. 30, 1996 This class is restoring my faith in humanity. Now that's progress. Oct. 31, 1996 The class today is more spooky than normal. But, that's the price of progress. Nov. 1, 1996 Ow, my stomach's sore from all that yummy candy. I think I'll just hide out in the library. Nov. 4, 1996 I wonder what I'll do for my ISU, maybe I'll just throw all that crap we wrote during the first month together and hand that in. With all due respect. Nov. 5, 1996 Enough essays already, please! Nov. 6, 1996 Make the hurting stop. My pen is running dry. Nov. 7, 1996 I have to write about truth and some noun. Doesn't anyone think of all the trees that will pass away? I didn't think so. Nov. 8, 1996 There's a restaurant called "TGI Friday's", where it's Friday, every day! Nov. 11, 1996 I used to think "every time" was one word. But, I guess it's not. Progress. Nov. 12, 1996 I have to write an essay about Average Man? What a terrible super-hero he would be. Nov. 13, 1996 Nothing is simple. I learned that today. Now I've just got to write an essay about it. Nov. 14, 1996 I've noticed when I write my log entry in class, it's slightly more coherent. Nov. 15, 1996 Friday again, how soon it comes. It never hesitates. Nov. 18, 1996 Now we're learning how to make fun of science fiction. I love this class. Nov. 19, 1996 Canadian Content? I don't like the sound of that. It sounds like we're actually going to be doing work. Stupid educational standardization. Nov. 20, 1996 I learned a really long word today, "antidisestablishmentarianism." That's the longest word I know. Nov. 21, 1996 Yeah, it's what I had feared most. We're doing work in this class. At least it's group work. Nov. 22, 1996 Read Chapter #6. Meh, I guess that's do-able. Nov. 25, 1996 This month seems to drag on and on. But it's been filled with progress, so I don't really mind. Nov. 26, 1996 I'm sure this class is well preparing me for university in some mysterious way. Nov. 27, 1996 I should really read that Canadian Content thingy. Before it's too late! Nov. 28, 1996 Students are going to be assigning work to me. I don't know if I can handle that kind of progress. Nov. 29, 1996 I think this log accurately reflects what I have done all year in this class. Not much. But I'm still diggin' this class a whole bunch. December 2, 1996 I think I'll just revise my first portfolio piece and use that for the basis of my ISU. Dec. 3, 1996 This Canadian Content stuff looks like it will be the subject for the exam. Dec. 4, 1996 That essay about old age was very disturbing. Dec. 5, 1996 Oh, well, I'm a teenager. I'm invincible! Dec. 6, 1996 I wonder what school would be like without Fridays? Dec. 9, 1996 What is humour? I don't think I'm going to be able to write that essay. But if I do...think of the progress! Dec. 10, 1996 OK, I have to summarize Altruism and Being A Man. I hope they're nothing like that old age essay. That thing just went on and on. Dec. 11, 1996 I really need to bring paper to class. Dec. 12, 1996 Argh, this is the worst paper I have ever seen! It looks like it has been recycled 12,000 times! Dec. 13, 1996 Friday the 13th, that reminds of a precocious little character in a hockey mask I used to know. Dec. 16, 1996 Oh my god! Look at what he did to the camp councellors! It's hideous. Oh yeah, I also handed in portfolio #8 today. Dec. 17, 1996 It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas! It seems like just yesterday it was September 4th. Now that's progress. Dec. 18, 1996 I'm glad that Canadian Content thing is over with. I'm really looking forward to the vacation from school. Dec. 19, 1996 I looked over my portfolio piece #1 today and it's going to need a lot of revision before it's an ISU. Maybe I'll use a serious tone instead. But I'm not all together sure yet. Dec. 20, 1996 Merry time off school. Sorry, I really don't want to offend anybody. I wish the teacher would stop trying to feed me donuts. January 6, 1996 Now I'm back in class again. Time to start thinking about my independent study again. Well I'm positive I'm using the "The Railroad Apartment" January 7, 1996 I have to hand in my proposal soon. January 8, 1996 I handed in my proposal and now it's go-time. What am I saying? I'll probably just sleep this whole week. January 9, 1996 I started revising "The Railroad Apartment" today and I decided to keep it the same story and write it in a light-hearted tone. I'm just going to use the other 700 words I have to add for more detail in the story and to develop the character better. January 10, 1996 I really enjoy listening to other people's independent studies. Even though it's making me nervous about my own. January 13, 1996 Some of these are very well done. Actually all of them have been. But I guess I am in an OAC class. January 14, 1996 I'm probably not going to do anything special for my presentation. I'll just get up there and read my story and suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. January 15, 1996 I'm just working in detail to "The Railroad Apartment" but I'm still not sure how the character should come across. January 16, 1996 I could easily write a serious story. Because I already have one in mind. But, I don't want to bore the class. I think I'll stick with trying to make it funny. January 17, 1996 I'm glad I didn't have to present today. It wouldn't have went over well. I have to change this whole thing around for Monday. January 20, 1996 I decided to make the character incoherent and naive as well as lonely (a little like this log). I think the story sounds reasonably well, now that I've read it in front of an audience. I added 800 words to it. Now it's ready to be handed in. That was a close call. I'm glad I came up with a good idea at the last second. January 21, 1996 Now I just have to assemble all of my ISU related material and hand it in for marking. And that's what I'll do. Over, out. >> last words [ hachi ] Well, the zine is finally done, and not too shabby I might add. Just wanted to say that the web page is not fully done, and that I want to hear comments, mteskey@ebtech.net .. things will probably change before the next release, the page will be up, and probably a new email address. My stuff wasn't funny, but I promise next release I will write a lil' bit of humour for you zany kids. Ummm, we can also be found on the irc in #hax0rs519 if you have comments, suggestions, or questions. That's about it. >> in closing [ unpossible ] This whole zine thing is probably going to be a bad hangover in the morning so I've decided I just won't go to bed. I'm going to ride the night out on a cough syrup trip you can only imagine. The zine isn't going to do anything spectacular, like bring spices and tea back from the Orient, or put black people onto legitiment baseball teams, because these things have already been done. I think what I can't stress enough is that this is just another zine. We all know there's like a bazillion out there already. Judging on the feedback we get from this release, we'll decide whether to continue or not. There's quite a bit of talent in our area alone that Hachi and I have yet to harvest, but this is more or less an outlet for the zany everyday situations and anecdotes that Hachi and I fail to elaborate on. By having no set release dates we hope to create a constant hunger in our readers that can only be satified by another issue of the zine. What am I saying? We're really two of the laziest kids in the world and right now Hachi is napping in a substantial amount of his own filth. But, seriously now, this zine is a pile. See you next time. °²Û Ûß ÛÛÛ ßßßßßßßßß ÜÜÛÛßÛÛÜÜ ²ÛÛßßÛÛÜÜ ÛÛ² ÛÛ ÛÛ Û ßÛÛÛßßßßßßßßßßÛÛÛ ÜÜ ÛÛÛÝ ÛÛÛ Ü ÞÛÛÝÞÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛÛÛ ÞÛÛ ÜÛÝÞÛÛ² ÛÛÛ ÛÝ ÛÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÝÛÛÛ ßÛÛ ßßßß ÛÛÛ ÜÛÛß ÜÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛÛ ßß ÛÛÛÛ ÞÛÛÛ ßßß ÜÜÜ ÛÛÛ ÞÛÝ ÜÛÛÛÛ Û² ßß ßß ²ÛÛßßßÛÛÛÛß ßÛÛÛÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ßß ßßßßß ßß Üßß ßß ßßßß ÞÛÛÝÞÛ hc the cat's pajamas ßßß ÛÛ °²ÛÛ