Sadly, it'll never be mine.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Pictures
-M (such a stupid name) informed me that our blog needs pictures. I disagree, as a word is worth .1% of a picture. And since our Twitter-driven society is all about brevity these days, wouldn't you want the smaller little chunk?
...
Yes. I understand that argument doesn't make sense.
Here's what I don't like about pictures. You bring camera so you can document memories of stuff, right? But the catch: you generally aren't in your pictures. My parents told me to take pictures when I vacationed to the Dominican Republic. So I do. Took pics of the beach, and the shells, and the water, and the food, and all that stuff. And they were like "are there any pictures of you?" Of course there aren't! It's my camera! I'd look like a tool if I brought a camera to a place and then told the person I'm with to take a bunch of pictures of me. If someone tells me to take a picture of them, I'll give them a max of two. Any more than that, I think they're a dick.
And then I continue taking pics of them obediently like a neutered puppy dog.
But regardless! Seems like a bitch move. We need to invent a camera that attaches to you from a distance of about ten feet away from you. Like a helmet that attaches to your head and has a pole that holds a camera on you from a perfect distance. Of course, then you'd look like a moron.
But I'm used to that.
...
Yes. I understand that argument doesn't make sense.
Here's what I don't like about pictures. You bring camera so you can document memories of stuff, right? But the catch: you generally aren't in your pictures. My parents told me to take pictures when I vacationed to the Dominican Republic. So I do. Took pics of the beach, and the shells, and the water, and the food, and all that stuff. And they were like "are there any pictures of you?" Of course there aren't! It's my camera! I'd look like a tool if I brought a camera to a place and then told the person I'm with to take a bunch of pictures of me. If someone tells me to take a picture of them, I'll give them a max of two. Any more than that, I think they're a dick.
And then I continue taking pics of them obediently like a neutered puppy dog.
But regardless! Seems like a bitch move. We need to invent a camera that attaches to you from a distance of about ten feet away from you. Like a helmet that attaches to your head and has a pole that holds a camera on you from a perfect distance. Of course, then you'd look like a moron.
But I'm used to that.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Generation Suck
It's official, I hate my generation. But not for the normal reasons.
No, it's not their taste in music. It's not because they're entitled-the baby boomers had that in spades. It's not that they can't manage to spell correctly or use proper grammar on the internet.
I hate my generation because they have no idea what good teaching is. To students these days, a good teacher is one that teaches you directly from lecture notes that they provide to you ahead of time, then goes through and highlights specific areas they plan to put on the test. It's not a teacher who encourages thinking or does a good job explaining the material; it's a teacher that reads the powerpoint and bolds it properly.
Even more than that, every student's first response to a poor exam grade is to ask the teacher to curve the test and/or make the next test easier. There's never a consideration of "Hmm, maybe I should have studied more" or "Hmm, maybe my study strategy was off." No, it's always the teacher's fault. In fact, if the teacher misgraded the test and gave people extra points, most people's gut response is to tell them that "they have no right to lower my grade."
Actually they do, dumbass, you got the question wrong.
I thought this would just be highschool, then I thought it might just be early college, but now I see that it's going to last forever. God save the world that's going to have this generation in charge. I hope the guidelines to running the country come in study guides with bolded areas of importance or the United States President is going to fail utterly in a few decades.
No, it's not their taste in music. It's not because they're entitled-the baby boomers had that in spades. It's not that they can't manage to spell correctly or use proper grammar on the internet.
I hate my generation because they have no idea what good teaching is. To students these days, a good teacher is one that teaches you directly from lecture notes that they provide to you ahead of time, then goes through and highlights specific areas they plan to put on the test. It's not a teacher who encourages thinking or does a good job explaining the material; it's a teacher that reads the powerpoint and bolds it properly.
Even more than that, every student's first response to a poor exam grade is to ask the teacher to curve the test and/or make the next test easier. There's never a consideration of "Hmm, maybe I should have studied more" or "Hmm, maybe my study strategy was off." No, it's always the teacher's fault. In fact, if the teacher misgraded the test and gave people extra points, most people's gut response is to tell them that "they have no right to lower my grade."
Actually they do, dumbass, you got the question wrong.
I thought this would just be highschool, then I thought it might just be early college, but now I see that it's going to last forever. God save the world that's going to have this generation in charge. I hope the guidelines to running the country come in study guides with bolded areas of importance or the United States President is going to fail utterly in a few decades.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
5 Minutes of My Fingers Not Leaving the Keyboard
It's a really nice day but a little chilly... I like it chilly though. But I'd prefer my hands not to be cold. But wearing gloves sucks 'cause then I have less finger dexterity. That would be a cool invention, gloves that still give you feeling in your fingers. Then you could still feel the seams of a baseball when you were pitching, or how soft the person's hand you're holding feels, or hold a pen, or type, or stuff. Although I suppose if you could invent that technology the best use would be for condoms, 'cause then the dude could still feel the vagina stuff despite wearing the condom. Hmm. I'm never going to work on this idea at all.
Everybody just wants to fall in love... that's the song I'm listening to. Really no special insight there. A girl just dropped a paper in the trash can five feet to the left of me. I think it was a gum wrapper. Gum-chewing is on my top hundred list of things I dislike in a person... but it has to be excessive gum-chewing. I'm not a hound for it, like Willy Wonka and the Oompa-Loompas are. Did you ever think of that? How in Willy Wonka, gum-chewing is considered as bad as being spoiled and not reading and stuff? Seriously, it's not THAT big of a deal. Curious. Like, can you imagine if the Oompa Loompas did a song on finger-nail chewing? That's not the best habit in the world but it's not the worst either. There was so much other stuff that could've been done. Like... watch out for herpes or something. Terrible advice by Willy Wonka.
Now a person threw a Subway bottle out. Every time someone throws stuff out I think they're coming over to talk to me. I can't decide if I'm disappionted when they don't talk to me or not. I mean, a part of me would like the company but I really don't know what to say to the person that would possibly be talking to me. Of course if they initiated the conversation all pressure would be off me, it'd be up for them to carry it. I always feel like I'm the one responsible for directing the conversation. Maybe that's part of my personality? Or is it that I choose to interact with people that generally don't? I must admit that, now that I think of it, some of my better friends are the ones that direct the conversation about equally to me. So maybe that's what makes friendships. Not conversation-hogging. I like people that I don't need to think of things to say with. Or if there's a silence and they don't look at me wide-eyed like "YOU'RE FAILING SAY SOMETHING YOU LOSER YOU'RE FAILING THIS CONVERSATION." Maybe no one is actually thinking that, maybe that's just my imagination.
I just smiled at a little girl. The big man behind her looked at me funny. I ducked my head.
Five minutes is ending in ten seconds. What can I write what can I write umm umm parad
Everybody just wants to fall in love... that's the song I'm listening to. Really no special insight there. A girl just dropped a paper in the trash can five feet to the left of me. I think it was a gum wrapper. Gum-chewing is on my top hundred list of things I dislike in a person... but it has to be excessive gum-chewing. I'm not a hound for it, like Willy Wonka and the Oompa-Loompas are. Did you ever think of that? How in Willy Wonka, gum-chewing is considered as bad as being spoiled and not reading and stuff? Seriously, it's not THAT big of a deal. Curious. Like, can you imagine if the Oompa Loompas did a song on finger-nail chewing? That's not the best habit in the world but it's not the worst either. There was so much other stuff that could've been done. Like... watch out for herpes or something. Terrible advice by Willy Wonka.
Now a person threw a Subway bottle out. Every time someone throws stuff out I think they're coming over to talk to me. I can't decide if I'm disappionted when they don't talk to me or not. I mean, a part of me would like the company but I really don't know what to say to the person that would possibly be talking to me. Of course if they initiated the conversation all pressure would be off me, it'd be up for them to carry it. I always feel like I'm the one responsible for directing the conversation. Maybe that's part of my personality? Or is it that I choose to interact with people that generally don't? I must admit that, now that I think of it, some of my better friends are the ones that direct the conversation about equally to me. So maybe that's what makes friendships. Not conversation-hogging. I like people that I don't need to think of things to say with. Or if there's a silence and they don't look at me wide-eyed like "YOU'RE FAILING SAY SOMETHING YOU LOSER YOU'RE FAILING THIS CONVERSATION." Maybe no one is actually thinking that, maybe that's just my imagination.
I just smiled at a little girl. The big man behind her looked at me funny. I ducked my head.
Five minutes is ending in ten seconds. What can I write what can I write umm umm parad
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
A Baseball Metaphor for Girls
Since women have, for so long, had to "let guys get" to various bases I decided to take it upon myself make up some bases for you girls that should allow you to tell your friends how the important part of your relationship is going.
First base: Hand holding. This is, without a doubt the most important base because unless a man is holding your hand you risk it spontaneously wilting due to contact with the corrosive atmosphere.
Second base: He asks you about your day. Yes, this will come after you give him constant updates about what you're doing during the day, but him asking you shows either he wasn't listening or he cares just that much. And obviously he's been listening because he holds your hand.
Third base: He buys you things regularly. Nothing says "relationship is on its way to a better place" than money being poured like manna from heaven. This includes every dinner being on his tab, all movie tickets, and perhaps even the fabled purchase of shoes that you like.
And finally, home plate is when he says he loves you. This means just one of two things: he wants to bump uglies or he feels like you forced him to say it. And either way, he's been buying you stuff, so you might as well just do it. There's like a 1% shot he really means it, and you've gotta live for that 1%.
So there you go. If you want to stop using your body as the bases you can. Empowering feminism and all that.
P.S. I'd also suggest you start saying people owe you a house when you jinx them instead of a soda. Good things will result.
First base: Hand holding. This is, without a doubt the most important base because unless a man is holding your hand you risk it spontaneously wilting due to contact with the corrosive atmosphere.
Second base: He asks you about your day. Yes, this will come after you give him constant updates about what you're doing during the day, but him asking you shows either he wasn't listening or he cares just that much. And obviously he's been listening because he holds your hand.
Third base: He buys you things regularly. Nothing says "relationship is on its way to a better place" than money being poured like manna from heaven. This includes every dinner being on his tab, all movie tickets, and perhaps even the fabled purchase of shoes that you like.
And finally, home plate is when he says he loves you. This means just one of two things: he wants to bump uglies or he feels like you forced him to say it. And either way, he's been buying you stuff, so you might as well just do it. There's like a 1% shot he really means it, and you've gotta live for that 1%.
So there you go. If you want to stop using your body as the bases you can. Empowering feminism and all that.
P.S. I'd also suggest you start saying people owe you a house when you jinx them instead of a soda. Good things will result.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Last Night's Halloween Party Through Out of Context Quotes
"I'm Mark from Rent. No, not Harry Potter. The straight guy in Rent. Oh. Yes I'm sure."
"Wait, this whip actually works?"
"No you can't--what are you--fine, put frosting on my forehead."
"It's fantastic to see you too. And by that I mean I treasured every minute since we last saw each other yesterday. Yes that was an insult. Yes you're drunk."
"The frosting looks stupid? How stupid?"
"No, not Harry Potter. Guy from Rent."
"Don't care if all he had to do was pay for that costume. I wanna be the marshmallow man."
"Why is it only the ugly girls that ever talk to me?"
"I'm not Harry Potter. Yeah apparently no one's ever watched Rent. Fuck the nineties."
"How does wearing a tape costume constitute being an iPod?"
"Does this frosting ever come off?"
"Does beer pong ever get exciting?"
"I'm putting the candy on my crotch 'cause that's the most action I'm gonna get tonight."
"I wish my ceiling leaked so I could talk to the girls upstairs in the shower."
"Yeah it has been too long! Of course I'd love to hang some time. No I'm not going to make a conscious effort."
"Yep. Boy who lived."
"Was he drunk or high?"
"No no, the line is 'Could talk the federation into maybe cutting them a little Slack/But their response, it didn't thrill us/They locked the doors and tried to kill us'"
"This song reminds me of that girl from the Dominican Republic vacation. Yeah, she was way hotter than you'll ever be."
"I'm not playing an imaginary game about disarming bombs in seven girl's vaginas. You're a moron."
"Should've dressed up as a retarded person."
"Maybe the girl in the black wants to get some candy."
"So claustrophobic. So... claustrophobic."
"High school party, senior year, boys and girls are all sippin' on beer, I like soda, where's the soda, am I the only fucking person here that likes soda?"
"Yeah you kill someone first, I'll go second."
"Another conversation. Another ugly girl."
"I do not wish I was wearing your costume, thanks for asking."
"Yeah, Wingardium Leviosa to you too."
"Wait, this whip actually works?"
"No you can't--what are you--fine, put frosting on my forehead."
"It's fantastic to see you too. And by that I mean I treasured every minute since we last saw each other yesterday. Yes that was an insult. Yes you're drunk."
"The frosting looks stupid? How stupid?"
"No, not Harry Potter. Guy from Rent."
"Don't care if all he had to do was pay for that costume. I wanna be the marshmallow man."
"Why is it only the ugly girls that ever talk to me?"
"I'm not Harry Potter. Yeah apparently no one's ever watched Rent. Fuck the nineties."
"How does wearing a tape costume constitute being an iPod?"
"Does this frosting ever come off?"
"Does beer pong ever get exciting?"
"I'm putting the candy on my crotch 'cause that's the most action I'm gonna get tonight."
"I wish my ceiling leaked so I could talk to the girls upstairs in the shower."
"Yeah it has been too long! Of course I'd love to hang some time. No I'm not going to make a conscious effort."
"Yep. Boy who lived."
"Was he drunk or high?"
"No no, the line is 'Could talk the federation into maybe cutting them a little Slack/But their response, it didn't thrill us/They locked the doors and tried to kill us'"
"This song reminds me of that girl from the Dominican Republic vacation. Yeah, she was way hotter than you'll ever be."
"I'm not playing an imaginary game about disarming bombs in seven girl's vaginas. You're a moron."
"Should've dressed up as a retarded person."
"Maybe the girl in the black wants to get some candy."
"So claustrophobic. So... claustrophobic."
"High school party, senior year, boys and girls are all sippin' on beer, I like soda, where's the soda, am I the only fucking person here that likes soda?"
"Yeah you kill someone first, I'll go second."
"Another conversation. Another ugly girl."
"I do not wish I was wearing your costume, thanks for asking."
"Yeah, Wingardium Leviosa to you too."
Friday, October 21, 2011
Anonymous Feedback
Y'know, Anonymous, I think you're a good guy. You've lived a long time, written some good books, even solved a few crimes, but some of the things you say are just a crock of shit. Take this chestnut:
"Any piece of clothing can be sexy with a quietly passionate woman inside it." This just isn't true. Have you ever seen a girl wearing a zebra print snuggie? No matter how quietly passionate she is she's going to look like someone too dumb to put their shirt on right way round. Plus no one's ever going to make puke green dresses look good.
"Write a wise saying and your name will live forever." Yeah that worked out great for you didn't it?
"When you point your finger at someone, three fingers are pointing back at you." I once busted this one out for my Uncle Steve, then remembered that he lost his ring finger in 'Nam. Real insensitive Anonymous.
"Always imitate the behavior of the winners when you lose." Try doing a victory dance after the other team scores a touchdown in football. Your team is probably not going to leave you the ability to move more than one of your limbs at a time.
"Don't let yourself forget what it's like to be sixteen." Yeah god knows we need to remember what it was like to get our first acne breakout then be stood up at the Homecoming Dance by She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, finally get your license only to plow into your parents mailbox, and then get socks for your birthday because your parents are too cheap to get you anything else and "now that's you're old it's time to get practical, son." Yeah who cares I wanted more than two shirts and a tie for my goddamn birthday.
So please, Anonymous, spout spouting whatever comes to mind and actually think before you coin a phrase people will quote over and over until the end of time.
"Any piece of clothing can be sexy with a quietly passionate woman inside it." This just isn't true. Have you ever seen a girl wearing a zebra print snuggie? No matter how quietly passionate she is she's going to look like someone too dumb to put their shirt on right way round. Plus no one's ever going to make puke green dresses look good.
"Write a wise saying and your name will live forever." Yeah that worked out great for you didn't it?
"When you point your finger at someone, three fingers are pointing back at you." I once busted this one out for my Uncle Steve, then remembered that he lost his ring finger in 'Nam. Real insensitive Anonymous.
"Always imitate the behavior of the winners when you lose." Try doing a victory dance after the other team scores a touchdown in football. Your team is probably not going to leave you the ability to move more than one of your limbs at a time.
"Don't let yourself forget what it's like to be sixteen." Yeah god knows we need to remember what it was like to get our first acne breakout then be stood up at the Homecoming Dance by She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, finally get your license only to plow into your parents mailbox, and then get socks for your birthday because your parents are too cheap to get you anything else and "now that's you're old it's time to get practical, son." Yeah who cares I wanted more than two shirts and a tie for my goddamn birthday.
So please, Anonymous, spout spouting whatever comes to mind and actually think before you coin a phrase people will quote over and over until the end of time.
-M.
P.S. Fun fact Sarge: blog entries over a page long tend to be a sign of a man compensating for a lack of something "down there." Also, if your hands don't get wet during clitoral stimulation you're doing something wrong.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Things I Hate
What do I hate? Rhetorical questions. They're gay. And M's post. Screw the hyphen that comes before the M, 'cause know what I hate? Punctuation that doesn't belong. Like that hyphen. He's M. Enough said. Just took a nap. Do you care? Nope. I hate people that tell you what they just did. But guess what. I hate naps too. And I took one. And dreamt of sweet things. And then ATE sweet things. Is that post-modern? Don't give a shit. Think harder about it. It is.
I don't usually write like this 'cause I'm too busy being adorable and impressing the ladies. But that gets you nowhere, 'cause it's gay. We now take a moment to interrupt this terrible stream of consciousness to discuss that I am not homophobic. Lately, I've been saying things are "gay" pretty frequently, and I sometimes feel a little bad about it. Because personally, I have some sexual tendencies that fall outside the norm, and I'm not sure how I'd feel about people saying "that test gets turned on by penis-like clitorises." That could hurt, man. Maybe. Not sure if it'd hurt or not. But regardless, I'm not a hurter. I don't do the hurting thing. Except in the bedroom. Make me a martyr, bitch. That doesn't make sense 'cause I said I don't like doing when I do the hurting. Nothing to do with my sexual partner(s). Whatever. Post-modern.
Anyway, the reason I say that the douchebag who walked way too slowly to class was gay is because "gay," frankly, is a funny word. If I tell someone that the bitch-slut in my rhetoric class wouldn't shut up about her boyfriend and that it's "gaaaaaay" then that's funny for a variety of reasons (emphasis on the long "a" necessary, I'm not being a vagina like the eighteen-year-old girls who elongate the last letter of every word they type in a text, even if it's a consonant, which is gay). Part of it's ironic, sure. Pretty damn clever calling an act of overt heterosexuality gay. And then it's just a funny combination of letters. Kinda like cyanide. Or lactate. Or faggot.
Seriously though, I lived with two gay guys for six months. Loved every minute of it, would consider them two of my closest friends. And I would estimate that four out of every eleven girls that have a conversation with me wonder about my sexuality. And that's okay, 'cause gay is in these days. Just look at all the action Kurt gets on Glee. Nearly got the Jew-y chick. I like Jews, and I like chicks. So no drawbacks.
I hate bad blog post endings. So I'm not ending this now.
I hate people that walk too slowly. You already knew that. Pay the fuck attention.
I hate the hand dryers in the bathroom. Just give me my freaking paper towels. They've been around long enough and we still have enough trees. And you want to know what I really hate? No? Fine. Not telling you.
It's wet hands. My lovely, soft, angel-wing clitoral stimulation machines don't deserve the discomfort. This is my blog bitch, I'm telling you what I want you to hear. If you don't like it, go away. No no no, wait. Don't go away. We need the views, and I want to be internet famous.
'Cause I hate internet famous people. Ooh congratulations bastard, you won the lottery and millions of people have seen your video. Guess what. It's no better than any of the other ba-rillion people's stuff on YouTube. You just got lucky and society decided it was good. But it's not. And you know what else sucks? You only win the lottery once. May as well not sign up for Powerball anymore, 'cause you're never gonna win it. 'Cause your fifteen minutes of fame are over. Gone. Done. That sucks. If something with million-to-one odds happen to me, I hope I get some sick monetary gain out of it. Or true love.
I hate that I use so many adverbs. I'm really going to stop now.
Stopping now. I hate that joke.
Post-modern.
I don't usually write like this 'cause I'm too busy being adorable and impressing the ladies. But that gets you nowhere, 'cause it's gay. We now take a moment to interrupt this terrible stream of consciousness to discuss that I am not homophobic. Lately, I've been saying things are "gay" pretty frequently, and I sometimes feel a little bad about it. Because personally, I have some sexual tendencies that fall outside the norm, and I'm not sure how I'd feel about people saying "that test gets turned on by penis-like clitorises." That could hurt, man. Maybe. Not sure if it'd hurt or not. But regardless, I'm not a hurter. I don't do the hurting thing. Except in the bedroom. Make me a martyr, bitch. That doesn't make sense 'cause I said I don't like doing when I do the hurting. Nothing to do with my sexual partner(s). Whatever. Post-modern.
Anyway, the reason I say that the douchebag who walked way too slowly to class was gay is because "gay," frankly, is a funny word. If I tell someone that the bitch-slut in my rhetoric class wouldn't shut up about her boyfriend and that it's "gaaaaaay" then that's funny for a variety of reasons (emphasis on the long "a" necessary, I'm not being a vagina like the eighteen-year-old girls who elongate the last letter of every word they type in a text, even if it's a consonant, which is gay). Part of it's ironic, sure. Pretty damn clever calling an act of overt heterosexuality gay. And then it's just a funny combination of letters. Kinda like cyanide. Or lactate. Or faggot.
Seriously though, I lived with two gay guys for six months. Loved every minute of it, would consider them two of my closest friends. And I would estimate that four out of every eleven girls that have a conversation with me wonder about my sexuality. And that's okay, 'cause gay is in these days. Just look at all the action Kurt gets on Glee. Nearly got the Jew-y chick. I like Jews, and I like chicks. So no drawbacks.
I hate bad blog post endings. So I'm not ending this now.
I hate people that walk too slowly. You already knew that. Pay the fuck attention.
I hate the hand dryers in the bathroom. Just give me my freaking paper towels. They've been around long enough and we still have enough trees. And you want to know what I really hate? No? Fine. Not telling you.
It's wet hands. My lovely, soft, angel-wing clitoral stimulation machines don't deserve the discomfort. This is my blog bitch, I'm telling you what I want you to hear. If you don't like it, go away. No no no, wait. Don't go away. We need the views, and I want to be internet famous.
'Cause I hate internet famous people. Ooh congratulations bastard, you won the lottery and millions of people have seen your video. Guess what. It's no better than any of the other ba-rillion people's stuff on YouTube. You just got lucky and society decided it was good. But it's not. And you know what else sucks? You only win the lottery once. May as well not sign up for Powerball anymore, 'cause you're never gonna win it. 'Cause your fifteen minutes of fame are over. Gone. Done. That sucks. If something with million-to-one odds happen to me, I hope I get some sick monetary gain out of it. Or true love.
I hate that I use so many adverbs. I'm really going to stop now.
Stopping now. I hate that joke.
Post-modern.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Ron Paul won't win in 2012
There. If I've learned anything from my time online, it's that those six words magically summon legions of Ron Paul supporters, so that should increase my readership from 1 (me) to at least 1.1. How to defeat the world method 1: outright deception.
My friend and I are both third years in college (no, not juniors) and have been raised to think that our opinion matters probably more than it actually does. Thus it's absolutely critical to use this blog as a way to share whatever strikes us as particularly interesting with the world. Whether it's our philosophy, interesting tidbits of news, or just something super tasty we had for breakfast, it'll find its way up here and from there hopefully to the entire internet! Well, one can hope anyway.
Stay tuned for more insights and more tips on how to defeat the world we live in today.
My friend and I are both third years in college (no, not juniors) and have been raised to think that our opinion matters probably more than it actually does. Thus it's absolutely critical to use this blog as a way to share whatever strikes us as particularly interesting with the world. Whether it's our philosophy, interesting tidbits of news, or just something super tasty we had for breakfast, it'll find its way up here and from there hopefully to the entire internet! Well, one can hope anyway.
Stay tuned for more insights and more tips on how to defeat the world we live in today.
-M.
P.S. Ron Paul won't win, guys, just accept it. He may be the most ideologically coherent of the Republican candidates and have the most integrity by far but Americans aren't ready to end their empire.
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