A Stabbing Pains Update

A bit of a quick touch base on the stabbing pains in certain points of my skull.

 

As I documented here last week, my latest medical ailment of the summer was I was experiencing stabbing pains in certain points of my skull.

 

In the intervening week since that post, the stabbing pains in certain points of my skull did eventually subside.

 

My only issue now with pain in my head is the persistent low level headache that comes with the ongoing stress of my continued existence.

 

And I’ve so glad my suffering amuses you.

A Man Called Brenda

In a follow up to yesterday’s post about the hot dogs without hot dogs, I wanted to mention our encounter at Sheetz with “Brenda”.

 

While my daughter Randie waited for the hot dogs to be removed from my hot dogs, we were engaged in conversation by a young African American man. We didn’t catch his name but he had a set of keys attached to a strap with the name Brenda on it. Based on what he was sharing with us, Randie and I surmised Brenda might be his mother’s name. For purposes of this narrative, we’re going to call him Brenda.

 

What prompted Brenda to engage in conversation was my shirt. I opted to wear my dark blue Duke polo and it turns out Brenda is a Duke fan. Like me, Brenda is a Duke fan surrounded by Carolina fans. Anyway, he liked my shirt and asked where I got it. I mentioned I bought it at Dick’s Sporting Goods. Turns out Brenda didn’t have a good experience there once. He was accused by a store employee of stealing something from the store while Brenda was walking INTO the store.

Now I’m not sure how someone can be accused of stealing something from a store you’re walking into. It struck Randie and I as just straight up racist but Brenda just rolled with it. It’s not the first or last stupid racist thing that happened to him.

Brenda shared with us the story of his relationship with this mother. By his own admission, he was not the best son to her and made her life hell. Through it all, though, she was tough but fair, never giving up on him. As he’s gotten older, he wants more and more to not disappoint her anymore. He wants to finish school, start his own business and be the good man his mother wants him to be. 

 I’m not sure why Brenda was sharing all this with us. He never once followed up his tale of woe with a request for a few bucks. He just wanted to talk to someone and we were there. 

In Randie, he was lucky and found a good and attentive listener. In me, not so much. It was not an environment conducive to me, machinery humming and beeping in the background, other people talking, echoes.




I hope Brenda can keep the faith, that his mother’s hopes for him are not unfounded and he can be the good man he’s looking to be. 

A Misadventure In Fast Food

Saturday marked a misadventure in fast food. 

My daughter Randie and I opted to swing by Sheetz to grab some lunch to bring back to the Fortress of Ineptitude. 

In case you're not familiar with Sheetz, it is a chain of convenience stores located in Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Maryland, Ohio, Virginia, and eastern and north-central North Carolina. 

Sheetz has a Made To Order (MTO) food service with a variety of burgers, sandwiches, sides, coffee drinks, shakes and more. It is a pretty good selection of food that beats the average fast food joint.  

Our order included my usual, a pair of hot dogs with chili and mustard. I am simple man with simple tastes and a fanatical devotion to routine. I will sometimes go into a Sheetz with a conviction that by God, I will order something different and I wind up ordering a pair of hot dogs with chili and mustard.

When Randie and I returned home to the Fortress, I noticed the foil package ostensibly containing my hot dogs felt a bit soft. As I unwrapped the foil, I discovered that I may have ordered a pair of hot dogs with chili and mustard but I did not get a pair of hot dogs with chili and mustard.

Well, not quite. 

Inside the hot dog buns were chili and mustard but no actual hot dogs. I received two hot dog-less hot dogs. 

Randie has ordered a hot dog. Her hot dog had a hot dog in it. 

So we ventured back off to Sheetz. 

The staff there was very apologetic and gracious in getting me a fresh a pair of hot dogs with chili and mustard... and actual hot dogs.  

Doctor Who On Jeopardy

Earlier this week, a certain long running British TV show was a question on Jeopardy.   

Jason Zuffranieri provided the correct response: "What is Doctor Who?"  

Kudos to Jason who ended the week still the Jeopardy champion. And ended the season as champion. Jason will be back in September when the new season resumes, hopefully with a healthy Alex Trebek at the helm as he continues his recovery from pancreatic cancer.   

Can't Always Get What You Want

It’s been a couple of days since Robert Mueller testified on Capitol Hill before the House Judiciary Committee and the House Intelligence Committee. 

Even before the first of the two hearings was over, the mood in the White House was "euphoria".  

Despite Mueller saying nothing that would vindicate or exonerate Donald Trump, the consensus for Donald Trump and his sniveling sycophants was Mueller's testimony counted as a win for their side. 

For a guy who is more obsessed with optics over substance, the jumped to conclusion was somewhat understandable. Mueller was hardly a captivating presence before the TV cameras. He was, at best, terse. At worst, he seemed uncertain and unsteady. 

Quickly the narrative began to spin around the right wing rumor mills that Mueller was in poor health and was never really in charge of the investigation, that Mueller was old and decrepit, a mere figurehead while others did the actual dirty work of trying to smear Donald Trump's good name. 

Sarah Huckabee Sanders arose from her sinister sarcophagus to pronounce the hearings as final proof that the whole thing was a hoax.   

And this is why we're doomed. 

You see, the truth of the matter is that Mueller's report tells a far different story from what Trump and his ilk seek to force down the eager throats of their Fox News indoctrinated base. And the words that Robert Mueller spoke on Wednesday gave not so much as a syllable to indicate any difference. 

No, Robert Mueller did not make a good witness for the prosecution of Trump's lies and malfeasance. In the view of Trump, he did not look good up there. 

But did anyone listen to what he had to say? 

Does anyone care? 

At the end of the day on Wednesday, all the misdeeds of Donald Trump and his cronies are still on display. 

And it doesn't matter. 

Stabbing Pains and Other Annoyances

“Well, the doctor says it could be a tumor.”

 

OK, maybe I shouldn’t lead with that.

 

Hey there! Hi there! Ho there! I’m Dave-El and welcome to I’m So Glad My Suffering Amuses You.

 

Today’s topic? My suffering.

 

I wrote in Monday’s post that the stabbing pains in certain points of my skull were starting to ebb just a bit.  I noted the stabbing sensations were moving from ice pick to butter knife.

 

I may have spoke too soon.

 

I made it to work OK and I did get some things done but I did have to contend with continued the stabbing pains in certain points of my skull  where the bad news was it the source felt like from an ice pick but the good news was the ice pick was a bit blunted from repeated encounters with the hard bone of my skull so I had that going for me. 

 

Still, the stabbing pains in certain points of my skull are, on balance, not a good thing.  So I called my doctor’s office.

 

This office has a lead doctor who is my primary physician and I’m going to call him John because that’s his name. Hey, I have stabbing pains in certain points of my skull; don’t look for me to get creative and make up names now.

 

*The story you’re about to hear is true. The names have not been changed because the writer is a petulant whiny ass who won’t shut up about the stabbing pains in certain points of his skull. Christ! We get it!  Your head hurts! Geez!

 

So John shares this practice with three other doctors or physicians assistants who are to my experience perfectly nice and competent medical professionals.

 

I called the doctor’s office.

 

“Hi, I’m a patient of Dr. John’s and I need to see if I can make an appointment.” 

 

At this point, the receptionist might tell me that John’s schedule is full or he is out but would I like to see one of the other doctors or physicians assistants? And I reply, “Why yes, that would be just fine.” Then the receptionist roles some dice or shakes a magic eight ball and says “Karen is free at 11:15. Will that work for you?”

 

So we know our roles in this little drama, right?

 

Let’s take this from the top.

 

DAVE-EL: “Hi, I’m a patient of Dr. John’s and I need to see if I can make an appointment.” 

 

RECEPTIONIST: “His schedule is full today.”

 

<PAUSE>

 

<AWKWARD PAUSE>

 

DAVE-EL: (Ahem) “I…er, would be OK seeing, you know, one of the other doctors or physicians assistants or, you know, whatever.”

 

<PAUSE>

 

RECEPTIONIST: “Hold on.” 

 

<PAUSE>

 

<AWKWARD PAUSE>

 

RECEPTIONIST: “Which one?”

 

DAVE-EL: “Which one what?” 

 

RECEPTIONIST: “Which one of the other doctors or physicians assistants do you want to see?”

 

DAVE-EL: “I suppose whichever one is, I guess, available first, you know, among the….er, three of them.” 

 

<PAUSE>

 

RECEPTIONIST: “Hold on.” 

 

<PAUSE>

 

<AWKWARD PAUSE>

 

RECEPTIONIST: “Shane can see you at 1:15.”

 

DAVE-EL: “That will be fine.” 

 

Man, I felt like Tim Conway’s Mr. Tudball from one of those Mrs. Wiggins sketches they used to do on the Carol Burnett show. 

 

When I arrived at the doctor’s office, I was greeted by bright, attentive and friendly people. I saw no dull eyed visage to suggest the slow person I spoke with earlier.

 

I met with Doctor Shane and we had a lively discussion of what might be causing stabbing pains in certain points of my skull. After Shane mulled and mused, the general consensus is we’re dealing with a sinus or upper respiratory viral thing.  Not a bad guess since we’ve been down this road before. But he was concerned, given that I was just in the doctor’s office a few weeks ago. If the symptoms of stabbing pains in certain points of my skull persists, a closer look might be warranted. Do a scan to make sure it’s not another stroke or a tumor. It could be a tumor but not likely. But Shane made me promise that if I was still experiencing stabbing pains in certain points of my skull after 2 or 3 days, to let him know. 

 

Later, when my wife Andrea called me to see how the appointment went, I decided to have some fun with her by starting at the end and working my way from there.

 

“Well, the doctor says it could be a tumor.”

 

Andrea did not think this was funny. Not one damn bit.

 

Later when I shared what I did with my daughter, Randie thought it was funny as hell. 

 

Oh, I should mention the drug store.

 

The doc called in a pain med prescription at my local pharmacy. After work, I went to pick it up.

 

Here is the normal script:

 

DAVE-EL: “Hi! I’m here to pick up a prescription.”

 

PHARMACY PERSON: “Certainly! Your name please?”

 

That’s the script. Here’s the actual show. 

 

DAVE-EL: “Hi! I’m here to pick up a prescription.”

 

PHARMACY PERSON: <smiles pleasantly, says nothing>

 

And here we go again.

 

And I’m so glad my suffering amuses you. 

 

Star Trek: Picard

Back in the day when my wife Andrea and I were dating and before she converted to Whovianism, pledging her undying devotion to Doctor Who, Star Trek: The Next Generation was our jam. 

 

How deep were we in the weeds for Next Gen? At the reception following our wedding, our official intro music was the theme ST:TNG theme. Oh, we were such nerds. 

 

While Doctor Who sits firmly atop our fandom, Star Trek: The Next Generation still has a warm and welcoming spot in our hearts.

 

So the release this weekend of the first trailer for the new CBS All Access series Star Trek: Picard was cause for celebration.

 

There at least three SQUEEE worthy moments near the end of the trailer:

 

1. Picard gets a visit from Seven of Nine from Star Trek: Voyager. Seven has loosened up a bit after 20 years on Earth. Good for her!
2. Picard with his new space faring crew ready to serve thrust a commanding finger at the camera and says “Engage!”
3. The very last moment shows Picard playing cards with Data! DATA?!?!?

 

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Now there is more than just fan nostalgia being served in this clip. Picard has a new mystery to solve and a new quest that will take him back to the stars. As the graphics tell us in the trailer, “the journey is far from over.”

 

For all the appeals to nostalgia, Star Trek: Picard represents something that Star Trek fans having been wanting for years but not getting: a chance to move forward.

 

From the 2009 Star Trek movie reboot to TV series from Enterprise to Discovery, everything has been geared to Star Trek’s past. Picard is the first Star Trek project in two decades to look beyond the past and ask, what happens next? Picard gives a familiar foundation to stand upon and then take that next step into the future beyond what we know and into what we can only imagine lies out there among the stars. 

 

Still, there is a natural desire to catch up with old friends. We learned this weekend that Mirana Sirtis and Jonathan Frakes would be reprising their roles as Deanna Troi and Will Riker. I wonder what Will’s reaction will be if he learns that Picard has a dog he has named “Number One”?  

 

The trailer promises that Star Trek: Picard will be arriving early 2020. Oh, that is too long a wait.  

The Big Chill...Again?!

Well, it looks like I lost another weekend to illness.


On Friday, the shuddering chills struck again. Even crawling fully clothed under the covers of my bed did little to abate the extreme shivering I was experiencing.


This hit me a couple of weeks ago. At the time, the doctor could only ascertain that I had a virus. My wife Andrea suggested we go to urgent care but urgent care is not urgent; I had no desire to sit shivering in a waiting room for three hours just to see a doctor who would likely tell me that I have a virus and there's nothing to be done but let it run its course.


Eventually the chills did subside to be replaced by sweaty hot flashed and intense pain in my skull. Not just an ache permeating my head but specifically stabbing me below my right eye and in the back of the left side of my head.


You know how in comic books where people are under psionic assault and they react in dramatic fashion because it really, really hurts? That was how I spent my Saturday.


Sunday, the pain stabbing ebbed a bit. Instead of the point of an ice pick going into my brain, it went down to a butter knife.


So I guess that counts as getting better?


There is stuff I would rather talk about than bitch about my umpteenth round of illness. Yes, I did see the Star Trek: Picard trailer and yes, I do so want to talk about that.


But that's for later.


By the time this posts on Monday, I'm hoping the stabbing pain in my skull will be gone or at the least the weapon of choice is a Nerf bat. 

Donald Trump Only Brought the Matches

After Wednesday’s embarrassing display by North Carolina at one of Donald Trump’s circle jerk rallies, Li’l Donnie tried to claim he wasn’t happy with what the crowd was chanting.

 

To recap: Trump was running off at the mouth about the four congresswomen he recently said in a tweet over the weekend that they should go back to the countries they came from. All four women are of ethnic minorities. Being told to go back where you came from is a common bludgeon used by racists against African Americans, Hispanics, Asians. Three of those four women were born in America. The fourth, Ilhan Omar, came to this country when she was 10 years old, subsequently became a citizen and last year, she ran for Congress in her district in Minnesota where she won and is now a member of the House of Representatives.

 

In the course of his diatribe, Trump kept pushing the narrative that she, like her other fellow congresswomen, hate America and saying that if you hate America, you should leave. Then the crowd began chanting, “Send her back!”

 

On Thursday, Trump tried to claim he didn’t like that the crowd was chanting that.

 

Which is bullshit.

 

When the crowd began chanting “Send her back!”, Trump was basking in the glow of the hatred he had unleashed. Li’l Donnie might be a degenerate moron with few working brain cells and a dark sucking pit where his soul should be but he does know how to work a crowd.  And with his constant haranguing of these women he has cast as a threat to America, he worked this crowd towards the very response he knows will motivate his base to turn up at the polls in 2020.

 

Like the sniveling coward he is, he pushed back on Thursday that he didn’t say “Send her back”, the crowd said it. Man, nothing is ever this son of a bitch’s fault, is it?

 

If Hitler had lived to stand trial for his crimes, I’m sure his defense would’ve been that he never loaded a single Jew onto a train and he never led a single Jew to the ovens. Other people did that. 

 

Donald Trump, this gross collection of parts with a passing resemblance to a man, only brought the matches. If others set fire to America, how is that on him?

The Shame of North Carolina

In yesterday's post, I commented on my recent visit to Greenville NC and I noted that Donald Trump was scheduled to appear. I wrote this: 

This goddamn fucking racist moron has selected Greenville as the sight for one of his goddamn fucking racist moronic rallies in front of an adoring audience of goddamn fucking racist moronic mouth-breathing idiots. If my impression of ECU (East Carolina University) is any indication, Trump's team is going to need to bus these goddamn fucking racist moronic mouth-breathing idiots from the surrounding countryside. 

Well, apparently, however they got there, they got there and proceeded to make a bad thing worse.

Trump went off on one of his rambling fact-free racist screeds against Rep. Ilhan Omar, the Somali refugee who came to America when she was 10 years old, became a citizen and ran for Congress where she handily won her district in Minnesota in 2018. Trump has made several disparaging comments questioning her loyalty to America, accusing her of supporting terrorists and suggested she should return to her own country. 

The assembled crowd at the rally began to chant: "Send her back!" "Send her back!" "Send her back!" "Send her back!" 

You know, it's bad enough that Donald Trump is a small minded hate mongerer but to see how easily he can pull a mob down with him into the depths of his depraved fear and loathing, it is most disheartening. 

It IS the Heat AND the Humidity

I just spent the last two days in the eastern part of North Carolina, specifically Greenville where the temperature was  232 degrees and the humidity was at 1,000%.

OK, I exaggerate.

Slightly. 

The Dave-El fam was away from the comfortable confines of the Fortress of Ineptitude to get orientated for my daughter's future collegiate life at East Carolina University.

Why Randie chose to attend college in Satan's armpit is beyond me.

OK, to be fair, ECU seems like a wonderful institution and Randie is enthusiastic about college life there. So good for her. 

Still, any venture outside renders the human form a sweaty pool of goo. 

Our business in Greenville concluded Tuesday which meant we got to abscond before the oppressive heat and the overwhelming humidity was joined by the toxic stench of Donald Trump. 

This goddamn fucking racist moron has selected Greenville as the sight for one of his goddamn fucking racist moronic rallies in front of an adoring audience of goddam fucking racist moronic mouth-breathing idiots. If my impression of ECU is any indication, Trump's team is going to need to bus these goddamn fucking racist moronic mouth-breathing idiots from the surrounding countryside. 

Whatever.

My main point for today's post is this: It's too damn hot! 

It's not the heat, it's the humidity? Fuck that!

It IS the heat AND it is the humidity!!

It's Not the Heat....

You know the old saw, "It's not the heat, it's the humidity."

Over the last several days here in central North Carolina, it has been particularly true. 

The fam ventured forth from the Fortress of Ineptitude with our special guest, Randie's girlfriend. First we spent a few hours at the pool. I would not wager which was wetter, the water in the pool or the air above it. 

Later that evening we took in a baseball game. At 7 PM, the temperature was 90 degrees. By the time the game and the post game fireworks ended 3 hours later, the temperature was down to 79 degrees. But it wasn't any more comfortable. The air was thick with hot, sticky moisture. 

Click here for Two Live Jews, "Oy! It's So Humid". 

Stay cool and dry if you can, peeps.  

MAD Magazine Makes Me Sick To My Stomach

Last week I did a post about the unexpected ending of the long running comic book series, The Walking Dead. It was unexpected as it had not been solicited as a final issues and solicitations through September showed Image still publishing the series.

 

Robert Kirkman wanted the end of the series to be a surprise, catching the readers off guard as they entered their local comic shop to buy what they thought would be the latest issue of The Walking Dead only to discover on the last page that it was the LAST issue of The Walking Dead. Kirkman would’ve gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for that meddling internet as rumors began to swirl a couple of days out that a long running series would come to an end and it looked like it was going to be The Walking Dead.

 

It turns out that The Walking Dead wasn’t the only long term publishing enterprise to announce its end.

 

MAD Magazine was coming to an end.

 

Sort of.

 

The news of MAD’s impending demise leaked out when contributors to the long running humor magazine began going on social media looking for work. These entreaties for work got out ahead of any formal announcement from DC Entertainment, the current publisher of MAD Magazine.  But then the word was given.

 

MAD Magazine was coming to an end.

 

Sort of.

 

MAD Magazine was relaunched with a new #1 a year or so back. The word from DC was that MAD Magazine would publish new content through issue #10. Then MAD would continue as a reprint title. The covers will be new but the interior will be classic strips from MAD’s long and storied past.

 

Furthermore, MAD Magazine would be removed from broad newsstand distribution and would only be available through comic shops. 

 

MAD was the last bastion of comic book storytelling to be found in magazine racks in drug stores, convenience stores and the like. 

 

The move is attributable to declining sales which is not a complete surprise. Magazines of all types are dealing with shrinking markets and declining sales.

 

And MAD with its off beat humorous look at society and pop culture struggled to be relevant in an age when anyone can throw up a Stranger Things parody comic on their Reddit within hours of Season 3 dropping; that Stranger Things parody that MAD might do would be less topical when it goes to press three months later.

 

I have to admit I haven’t bought an issue of MAD in years, decades maybe? I own a couple of hardcover books about MAD but sadly, MAD and I got off to a bad start back when I was a kid.

This is where I explain the title of today's post: MAD Magazine Makes Me Sick To My Stomach

 

I reckon this was sometime around the fall of 1978. It was after the big DC Implosion when DC drastically cuts its line to barely 2 dozen titles. As a DC reader, I frequently found myself with more change in my pockets than DC comics to buy.  On one such occasion, I decided to give MAD a try.

 

That night, something happened. I don’t know if it was a bug or a virus or something I ate but over the course of the evening, I became increasingly nauseous.  As I leafed through my new issue of MAD, I was getting sicker and sicker on my stomach.

 

Eventually, I had to throw up. A lot. It was horrendous and bad. It was one my of the worst experiences of vomiting I had ever experienced in my young life.

 

Now I want to make this clear: I don’t blame MAD Magazine for making me sick to my stomach.

 

But ever since then, whenever I’ve looked through an issue of MAD Magazine in a convenience store or wherever, it still to this day makes me sick to my stomach.

 

Still, it’s a shame MAD has to die.

Spider-Man: Far From Home

So we went to see Spider-Man: Far From Home this weekend. It was an enjoyable outing with Tom Holland still killing it as Peter Parker, AKA the Amazing Spider-Man.  The film has humor and heart and yes, since it’s a super hero movie, exciting action sequences. 


In short, Spider-Man: Far From Home was good and I enjoyed it.


Now I’m going to gripe about some things.


What the hell happened to Uncle Ben?

After sitting through Uncle Ben getting shot by a robber twice to propel Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield on their way, I appreciate the current production team on this version of Spider-Man to not retread that oh so familiar ground. But Ben’s death and Peter’s role in it is a formative element of Peter Parker’s role and mission as Spider-Man. So far in the course of two solo movies and his appearances in other MCU movies, Peter has not once mentioned his Uncle Ben. Not even a reference to “with great power comes great responsibility”.  


It seems that the old obsession with atoning for Uncle Ben’s death has been replaced with living up to the trust and legacy of Tony Stark.  In FFH, Peter experiences an illusion designed to rub his face in his failures. Included in the imagery is a tombstone and inscribed on it is the name of Tony Stark. I know most of the movie is about the constant pressure Peter feels to live up the legacies of both Tony Stark and his armored alter ego Iron Man but geez. If there was any moment where Ben Parker’s name should come up, it’s a moment of Peter confronting his failures. 


Of course the illusion is conjured up by Mysterio who has his own obsessions with Stark which may account for that particular image of Stark’s tombstone.  Which brings us to the next gripe.


Tony Stark is the ultimate creator of villains.

In Homecoming, Adrian Toomes, the Vulture, goes on his crime sprees because Tony Stark was a dick. In FFH, Quentin Beck, Mysterio, reveals his malevolent motivations are because Tony Stark was a dick. The motivation for the villains in all three Iron Man movies was that Tony Stark was a dick. Never mind that Tony straight up invented Ultron in the 2^nd Avengers movie. It seems Tony’s greatest skill as an inventor was creating super villains. 


I know the whole deal is that Tony Stark was a flawed human being who tried to be a better person and tried to make the world a better place. And Odin bless him, he didn’t always get it right. But it’s hard to overlook the “not getting it right” when it serves as the plot fodder for two Spider-Man movies in a row.  


Aunt May, Spider-Man’s sidekick

The whole schtick for decades has been poor, elderly, frail, always about to die Aunt May. Oh lordy, if she knew that her precious nephew was Peter Parker was Spider-Man, well, the shock would just kill the old girl, don’t you know. But with Aunt May now being portrayed by perennially hot Marisa Tomei, that bit ain’t going to fly. Her catching Peter in his Spidey suit at the last moment of Homecoming was a classic with her “What the fuck?” reaction.


Now in FFH, we see that May has a nice working relationship with Peter and his arachnid alter ego, going as far as to remind Peter to pack his Spidey suit for his trip to Europe. And when Peter makes a point to leave the suit at home, it turns out May packed it for him anyway.


Which is all well and good. I like this fresh take on Aunt May. My gripe here is I feel cheated of the moments following May’s discovery at the end of Homecoming. C’mon, what was that conversation like? How did May process this new found information? What happened in the moments between May finding out Peter Parker is Spider-Man and May packing the Spidey suit in Peter’s luggage? Dave-El wanna know!


I’m not sure where within the structure of Far From Home this story would’ve been told but I still wished we had not missed it. 


OK, I’ll stop the griping.  


To reiterate, Spider-Man: Far From Home was good and I enjoyed it.