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The death of the family home is killing the American middle class
The death of the family home is killing the American middle class

Yahoo

time7 days ago

  • Business
  • Yahoo

The death of the family home is killing the American middle class

Once renowned for widespread homeownership, the key Anglosphere countries are reverting to a feudal past, where land is owned by increasingly few. In every major market in Canada and Australia, and in much of America and the UK, house prices have skyrocketed to record levels, with corresponding consequences for home ownership rates. In a new report, demographer Wendell Cox traces this to the failure to build enough new housing units, particularly the single-family homes that consumers most desire. In the United States, homebuilders built about one million fewer homes (including rental units) in 2024 than in 1972 when there were 130 million fewer Americans. One estimate puts the US housing market short by about 4.5 million homes. But the housing crisis is a global phenomenon that hits the middle and working classes hardest. In large part due to high housing prices, notes the 'OECD in Under Pressure: The Squeezed Middle-Class', the middle-class faces ever rising costs relative to incomes, so much so that its very survival is threatened. 'The cost of essential parts of the middle-class lifestyle have increased faster than inflation,' it notes. Housing prices have been rising 'three times faster than household median income over the last two decades.' Even in prosperous and communitarian Switzerland, Zurich studios sell for well over $1 million, and small houses for considerably more than that. Even affluent people cannot afford down payments, despite the overwhelming financial advantages to homeowners. This housing shortfall and high prices are seen throughout the Anglosphere. Australia's historically high rates of homeownership have all but collapsed among those aged between 25 and 34 years old, plummeting from more than 60 per cent in 1981 to only 45 per cent in 2016. The proportion of owner-occupied housing has dropped by 10 per cent in the last 25 years. In the United Kingdom in 2022-23, 39 per cent of 25-34 year-olds owned their home, compared to 57 per cent of the same age cohort in 1995. A rising proportion of British millennials are likely to remain renters for life. Similarly, US millennials were already less likely in 2015 to be homeowners than baby boomers and Gen-Xers. By 2021, home ownership among those aged 25-34 had dropped from 45.4 per cent in 2000 to 41.6 per cent. Record numbers of first-time buyers are stuck on the sidelines as housing affordability stands at the lowest level for which there are data series, while one in three pay over 30 per cent of their income in mortgage or rent. Across the board, Wendell Cox's new report lays the blame for this situation on the British-born idea of urban containment, with its roots in the UK's 1947 Town and Country Planning Act. This policy sought to steer development towards higher density core cities and away from the lower density periphery, forcing people into 'living smaller, living closer' – whether they like it or not. The results have been dreadful. As early as the 1970s, British planner Peter Hall suggested that the 'speculative value' of land with planning permission in the UK was five to 10 times higher than that of land without planning permission. Virtually all the most expensive markets in Cox's new affordability study – outside number one Hong Kong – operate some form of urban containment, including such cities as Vancouver, Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego and, of course, London. All these areas now have prices that are nine times or more higher than median incomes, which is also three times the historic rate. Many of the markets closer to that historic norm – in Texas, the South and the Midwest US – do not have such policies. Nor does focusing on higher density lower prices, as is sometimes argued. In fact, US data suggests a positive correlation between greater density and housing costs. Among 53 major metros, those with more single-family housing and larger lot sizes (key indicators of lower density) have substantially better housing affordability. One recent study found that the median family in San Jose would need 125 years (150 in Los Angeles) to save a down payment; in Atlanta or Houston the figure is 12 years. Perhaps most damning, these policies are clearly not effective in creating more housing; Portland, a US pioneer in urban containment, embraces high density housing but high prices have driven multi-family construction to the lowest level in a decade. In California, which has experienced similar stagnation, notes a recent RAND study, policy-driven delays, strict architectural standards, green mandates and the requirement to pay union-level wages have pushed the cost of construction of subsidised apartments twice as high as in Texas. How do we begin to solve this problem? It should not be too difficult, once urban containment and other policies are effectively scrapped. With relatively low population growth – particularly outside the migrant population – there is no huge spike in fundamental demand as occurred, for example, in the 1950s and 1960s. The rise of remote work, migration to smaller urban areas, as well as new technologies for building, including the use of 3D printers, actually offer the chance to build more affordable housing. The bad news is that this crisis is largely self-inflicted. The good news is that it can be solved, if our political class can find the will to change and jettison policies that have led to this disastrous situation. Joel Kotkin is presidential fellow in urban futures at Chapman University and senior research fellow at the Civitas Institute at the University of Texas Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.

Drunk Elephant Was Never for Kids
Drunk Elephant Was Never for Kids

Business of Fashion

time14-05-2025

  • Business
  • Business of Fashion

Drunk Elephant Was Never for Kids

Drunk Elephant has learned the hard way not to play with tweens. On Monday, Japanese beauty conglomerate Shiseido released its first quarter 2025 earnings and revealed that sales at the pastel-hued clean beauty brand it acquired had declined by a staggering 65 percent. It was a major reversal of fortunes for Drunk Elephant, which Shiseido acquired for $845 million in 2019 and rose to fame for spearheading trends in accessibility to high-quality formulations, playful marketing and of course, liquid bronzer. For those who have been closely observing, however, the news is simply confirmation of suspected stumbles. Since it was purchased six years ago, Drunk Elephant grew slowly, then explosively, then shrunk, as it has struggled to hold on to consumers old and new while simultaneously balancing its playful sense of whimsy with its core promise of results-driven skincare. Unforeseen headwinds also set Drunk Elephant back, like overexposure to the weakening Chinese and travel retail segments, or production issues related to its best-selling Bronzing Drops. But the main source of Drunk Elephant's woes is ever-fickle teenagers, who embraced it wholeheartedly during the height of the 'Sephora tween' phase last year before quickly moving on, exposing a gaping wound in its brand identity. Prior to their arrival, the brand was a Sephora darling, quickly becoming its number one skincare brand after its in-store debut in 2015. By 2023, when the teens arrived, clamouring for Drunk Elephant's technicolor packaging, they brought a tailwind with them, helping the brand access a new and skin-curious audience. But turning towards this new customer meant turning away from the brand's core: Millennials and young Gen-Xers, who were drawn to Drunk Elephant for its clean ethos and efficacious skincare. Now, they've come to see the brand as too young for their tastes. 'Drunk Elephant became so strongly associated with Sephora tweens that it lost credibility with older consumers,' explained Casey Lewis, who writes the teen trend newsletter After School. 'Tweens are notoriously fickle consumers. They're not brand loyal. They simply seek out what's new and trending, and when the market is as saturated as this one, consumers will literally never run out of other brands and products to try.' A worsening economic climate has teens — and their parents — trading down from their beloved Protini peptide moisturisers ($69). Even the brand's creator may be moving on: Puck News recently reported that Tiffany Masterson, who founded the brand in 2013, is stepping down from her day-to-day duties as chief creative officer amid Drunk Elephant's sloppiest year yet. Shiseido declined to comment on speculation. The Curse of the Sephora Tweens When the brand launched direct-to-consumer in 2013, it was positioned as clean, highly efficacious skincare with a winking sense of humour. Early hits, like its C-Firma Day Serum ($79), were seen as smart, better-priced alternatives to products like Skinceuticals CE Ferulic ($182). At a time when doctor-led labels were only slowly emerging, and the clean beauty movement was beginning to bloom, Masterson's brand resonated with a group of people who seemed to be waiting for it. By 2019, Drunk Elephant was doing about $120 million in annuals sales. The next year, Shiseido touted its new acquisition as a key to increasing its profitability in the Americas, and went all-in on ramping up Drunk Elephant's distribution — in North American travel retail, in Sephora doors across China and in every Ulta Beauty in the US. As a result, sales nearly doubled, but they've since come back down: 2024 net sales hit just over $135 million, according to Shiseido. The brand's influence in the greater industry has also waned significantly. Social chatter about Drunk Elephant cooled dramatically in the past year, down 72 percent, according to insights firm Spate. The brand peaked in January 2023 on the strength of its hyperviral Bronzing Drops, with interest dropping off at the beginning of last year. Even with a hit product, Drunk Elephant was unable to keep up with demand, which resulted in long sellout periods that allowed dozens of dupes (from Sephora neighbours like Saie, Glow Recipe and Westman Atelier) to fill the void. Since then, consumer interest in liquid bronzer has melted, with searches down 10 percent year on year, noted Addison Cain, Spate's senior insights and marketing lead. Drunk Elephant's strengths remain in its serums and moisturisers, which once defined accessible and effective skincare but have since ceded that authority to competitively priced offerings from the Innbeauty Project or Isla Beauty, and even more affordable offerings from more Gen-Z-focussed brands like Byoma and Bubble. Parents, for their part, are also souring on Drunk. 'I was super turned off that Drunk Elephant was marketing to my tween via TikTok influencers,' said Dora, a woman in her 40s, in The Business of Beauty's Instagram comments section. 'Not only did I refuse to buy her the 70$ [sic] moisturizer her 12 year skin did not need but I wasn't about to buy it for myself just so she could steal it.' Drunk Elephant has never marketed directly to Gen-Z or -Alpha — executives have said so repeatedly — and its products have never been appropriate for young skin. (Its top selling Baby Facial, for instance, contains a cocktail of exfoliating acids that no dermatologist would recommend to a user under 18.) 'We're not going to start to try to get into a dialogue with children about acids and retinol,' founder Masterson told The Business of Beauty in 2024. In her mind, they're like alcoholic offerings on a restaurant menu: 'Parents decide whether or not that's appropriate for their kid.' Still, in casting a too-wide net in reaching its target customer, the message that Drunk Elephant is fun for the whole family rose to the top. Looking ahead, in Shiseido's integrated report for 2024, Barbara Calcagni, president of Nars and Drunk Elephant, stated the conglomerate's intent 'on regaining global momentum by increasing our loyal community and recruiting new customers.' For its own sake, it could aim higher. Sign up to The Business of Beauty newsletter, your complimentary, must-read source for the day's most important beauty and wellness news and analysis.

Allianz Partners Launches Cruise-Specific Travel Insurance for Norwegian Cruise Line Passengers
Allianz Partners Launches Cruise-Specific Travel Insurance for Norwegian Cruise Line Passengers

Korea Herald

time08-05-2025

  • Business
  • Korea Herald

Allianz Partners Launches Cruise-Specific Travel Insurance for Norwegian Cruise Line Passengers

BRISBANE, Australia, May 8, 2025 /PRNewswire/ -- Allianz Partners Australia has launched a new cruise-specific travel insurance product in collaboration with Norwegian Cruise Line (NCL). The latest offering allows NCL customers to conveniently get a quote and purchase travel insurance directly through the cruise line's website when booking their journey. Allianz Partners' Cruise Travel Insurance offers essential benefits, such as onboard medical and evacuation coverage, protection for cabin confinement, and formal wear coverage for NCL travellers. Traditionally offered as an add-on package, these benefits are now seamlessly integrated into the standard travel insurance policy purchased through the Norwegian Cruise Line website, simplifying the process and offering more convenience for travellers. (Terms, conditions, exclusions limits, and applicable sub-limits apply). As cruising emerges as the fastest-growing travel segment in Australia, with 1.25 million Australians setting sail annually, Allianz Partners is poised to meet this rising demand with targeted innovations. The global cruise industry has witnessed a remarkable 20% increase in passengers in 2024 compared to 2019, and projections suggest that 40 million passengers will embark on cruises by 2028. In Australia, cruise travel now constitutes 10% of all travel choices, with a notable surge in interest from younger demographics, including Millennials and Gen-Xers. Allianz Partners is committed to supporting this growth by delivering innovative solutions tailored to the evolving needs of cruise travellers. "Our commitment to product innovation and keeping customers at the heart of everything we do is evident in our new partnership with Norwegian Cruise Lines," said Damien Arthur, Executive Head of Travel at Allianz Partners Australia. "Our data shows that cruise travellers have a high propensity to purchase travel insurance. We've now made it even easier for them to get cover that is better suited for their needs. This launch builds upon our worldwide portfolio of cruise partnerships, where global expertise can be applied to local markets." The launch of the cruise-specific travel insurance reflects Allianz Partners' ongoing efforts to address the evolving needs of travellers, offering products that combine high-tech convenience with high-touch service. Allianz Partners' strategic collaborations with industry partners like Norwegian Cruise Line reinforce its goal of delivering comprehensive and targeted insurance solutions that meet the unique needs of modern travellers and support the growth of the global cruise market. To find out more about Allianz Partners Australia and Norwegian Cruise Line's offerings, please visit: About Allianz Partners Allianz Partners is a world leader in B2B2C insurance and assistance, offering global solutions that span international health and life, travel insurance, automotive and assistance. Customer driven, our innovative experts are redefining insurance services by delivering future-ready, high-tech high-touch products and solutions that go beyond traditional insurance. Our products are embedded seamlessly into our partners' businesses or sold directly to customers and are available through two commercial brands in Australia: Allianz Global Assistance and Allianz Care. Present in over 75 countries, our 19,400 employees speak 70 languages, handle over 58 million cases each year, and are motivated to go the extra mile to offer assistance to our customers around the world.

Survey ranks Indiana No. 2 for ‘phishing' victims
Survey ranks Indiana No. 2 for ‘phishing' victims

Yahoo

time05-05-2025

  • Yahoo

Survey ranks Indiana No. 2 for ‘phishing' victims

WXIN/WTTV — A new survey ranks Indiana number two in the nation for phishing scam victims. Fullstack Academy, which is like a training bootcamp for IT careers, surveyed people in all 50 states about their experiences with phishing scams. The results show 40% of Hoosiers say they've been a victim, the second-highest rate in the nation. The survey also shows 69% of Hoosiers say they are not very confident they can spot a phishing scam. Phishing scams involve someone who impersonates a real company, organization or individual to get you to give up sensitive information, often by having you click a link that takes you to a malicious website. While the attacks have evolved to include text messaging, social media and A.I., your email inbox is still the most popular 'phishing hole' for the bad guys. The survey also revealed the most common lures used by phishing scammers. In 25 states, including Indiana, fake package delays and delivery issues are the most common ways scammers get people to click on dangerous links. That likely explains why Amazon, the U.S. Postal Service, and UPS are the names scammers impersonate the most, followed closely by PayPal and FedEx. Although Gen-Z is becoming a more popular target for some scams, Gen-X is still receiving the most phishing emails. More than half of Gen-Xers report getting a phishing attack either weekly or daily. These days, experts say it's hardly safe to trust any unsolicited email or text message you receive, even if it appears to come from a company you do business with. Instead of clicking a link or calling a number in one of those messages, go to the company's website or look up their phone number on your own to check on whatever issue the message was about. That way, you know exactly who you're dealing with. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

‘Breakfast Club' is reuniting at C2E2. What do Gen-Zers at John Hughes' school think of the Gen-X movie?
‘Breakfast Club' is reuniting at C2E2. What do Gen-Zers at John Hughes' school think of the Gen-X movie?

Chicago Tribune

time11-04-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Chicago Tribune

‘Breakfast Club' is reuniting at C2E2. What do Gen-Zers at John Hughes' school think of the Gen-X movie?

On Saturday morning, exactly 40 years after they first met in Saturday morning detention, every member of the original Breakfast Club — the popular girl (Molly Ringwald), the jock (Emilio Estevez), the recluse (Ally Sheedy), the nerd (Anthony Michael Hall), the rebel (Judd Nelson) — will reunite, for the first time since 1985. The occasion is C2E2, the annual Chicago Comic and Entertainment Expo at McCormick Place. But here's the thing about high-school reunions: Nothing changes. Even when everything about your old high school changes. As in, transforms so radically in five decades that a student there now would have trouble relating to a student there 40 years ago. A couple of days before the Breakfast Club was set to visit the South Loop, I met with six teenagers at Glenbrook North High School to watch 'The Breakfast Club' itself. Most had never seen it. But all were well aware of its outsized legacy in the long hallways of this sleek 72-year-old North Shore institution: John Hughes, the film's director and writer, a man who arguably helped shape the way we think about teenagers, based the movie on his own experiences as a student at Glenbrook North. He didn't shoot there; the set was Maine North High School in Des Plaines, which had closed a few years before filming, partly because of declining enrollment. Baby boomers built too many schools, then didn't make enough Gen-Xers. That's ancient history to Gen-Zers. Within 10 minutes of clicking the play button, I felt like I was introducing these six students to a great new revolutionary invention called the cotton gin. Judd Nelson threw one of his many tantrums in the film: Avery DiCocco, chipper, vice president of the student association, a senior, with a scrutinizing expression, shook her head and said, 'I mean, that would be all over Snapchat.' The others nodded. When the school's vice principal took a sip from a water fountain, DiCocco pounced: 'Nope! We carry water bottles — nobody drinks directly out of the fountains.' They were warming to time travel. There's a scene where Judd Nelson is locked in a closet by the principal. Asher Panfil, senior, a sports guy, seated in an egg chair, said to the screen: 'If that happened in Northbrook, his parents would sue so fast.' Beside him, Drew Horvath, another sports guy, said: ' So fast.' Beside them, senior Kady Serlin, aspiring filmmaker: 'What if there was a fire? That's a liability issue.' Samantha Katz, senior, in a baggy gray sweatshirt, craned her head back: 'It's pretty hard to even get detention in this school now.' Lincoln Brown, junior, in a green hoodie, added wryly: 'There are rumors …' Katz looked to assistant principal Michael Tarjan seated nearby: 'Do we even still do a Saturday morning detention?' Actually, they do; there's one thing that hasn't changed. But none of them have ever done anything bad enough to warrant such a sentence. 'I've actually heard everyone in Saturday detention are friends,' said Horvath, waving at another scene in which the Breakfast Club are bickering strangers, not yet knowable to one another. 'I've heard they get like an hour for lunch, they get to leave 15 minutes early and it's not even strict.' On screen, the vice principal (played by character actor Paul Gleason) was threatening someone again; he's always threatening someone or shoving. The real students cringed every time. 'No,' said Serlin, 'you're not allowed to threaten students.' Panfil, who has practice for one sport or another nearly every morning, said, 'I don't know the last time I had a free Saturday morning.' 'The Breakfast Club,' a film that felt so immediate and revealing if you were a certain age in 1985, is now, in 2025, a clearing house of the unthinkable, the expired and probably litigious. As they watched, the students cataloged what had changed in 40 years: They don't use lockers anymore (even though old lockers still line many Glenbrook hallways); they prefer backpacks. And they certainly don't write gay slurs in huge letters down the front of those lockers, as in the film: 'We'd get an email about that,' Horvath said, with a deadpan understatement. The books and magazines in the film's library? They rarely check out books on their own and never read magazines. Also, nobody smokes cigarettes anymore; school bathrooms are installed with silent alarms in case of vaping. When Molly Ringwald was dropped off by her father in a BMW, they noted some students here drive BMWs themselves; the parking lot has seen its share of Teslas, too. Glenbrook North, which serves Northbrook, is in one of the richest ZIP codes in the state. As for those clothes … They definitely would not be putting so much work into a Saturday morning wardrobe. (More than a few students here wear pajamas to class, a nearby adult whispered.) Still, Ringwald, prim, poised, in long leather boots and an expensive brown sack of a jacket — yeah, OK, they could picture her being a student here. 'We do have a few Mollys,' Panfil said. But when Nelson sticks his head under Ringwald's skirt, the room agreed: Today, Molly would sue. When Nelson says she is starting to look fat, you could feel a collective recoil in the room. 'That would never fly,' DiCocco said. 'A guy calling a girl 'fat' would cross a line.' 'Culturally, things definitely changed,' Serlin said. Horvath: 'At least, another student would have said something to (Nelson) by now.' Panfil: 'I mean, who would even put that much effort into trolling anyone today?' We sat in a handsome student lounge. Set into a wall in large letters: 'Be Positive. Be Proud. Be Spartan' — the sort of hopeful reinforcement, the film argues extravagantly, that boomers could not provide in the 1980s. There were egg chairs and brightly colored leather stools that wouldn't look out of place in a tech startup or a very cool daycare center. Glenbrook is more like the sunny high schools I think I remember from John Hughes movies than the actual schools in his movies. It's reality overtaking fiction. Hughes himself, who died in 2009 at 59, knew lots about that. He was, as his films suggest, something of an outsider at Glenbrook North — yet a ridiculously self-confident one. At Glenbrook, Hughes took to dressing modish, like Bob Dylan. He didn't care about fitting in. He once told an interviewer, if he was made fun of, he'd think, 'That's OK. Picasso would like me.' After he became a filmmaker, he could be just as sanctimonious as a 15-year-old. It became his superpower. As journalist Bruce Handy writes in 'Hollywood High' — an upcoming history of teen movies that places 'Breakfast Club' in a continuum alongside 'Rebel Without a Cause' and many others — his legacy is showing that high school is actually dominated by various 'tribes' of social class, not just the big, blah 'teenage monoculture' Hollywood used to depict high school. What this meant in 1985 was that 'The Breakfast Club' seemed to boil away the chaff of high school and reveal the sensitive you. Being a teenager in Hughesville meant brief moments of connection with people who understand, then, bittersweetly, a life of comparable bleakness. It flattered a teenager's self-importance and offered truths only a teenager could know: The pressure is impossible, your parents don't listen, and yet, inevitably, you become your parents. As Ally Sheedy says, your heart dies when you get older. Yes, I remember thinking at 14, it does, as if I knew. It's here, when 'The Breakfast Club' goes deep, the Glenbrook Six connected the most. As 'Breakfast Club' character after character took their swings delivering soliloquies about pressure and parents and popularity, the students went quiet for long stretches and just listened. The film's view of the insular nature of cliques: 'I'd say, generally, everyone has their friend group and stick to that,' said DiCocco. That part hasn't changed much. But when asked if they have good relationships with parents — the film's adults being emotionally absent — the students said they do, almost in unison, way too fast for a Gen-Xer's ears. They're disgustingly well-adjusted. But Hughes' understanding of pressure — spot on. After Emilio Estevez describes the intensity of a father demanding a devoted athlete, Panfil said quietly: 'That's still a thing today.' They describe friends groomed to be athletes since they could stand, and practicing musical instruments for absurdly long times. Brown said there is pressure to keep grades up, 'just not to the extent in this movie.' Anthony Michael Hall's Brian is in detention for bringing a flare gun to school, pressure to excel leading to suicidal overtures. That gun, at Glenbrook, would mean an automatic expulsion now, no question, they said. 'But (the movie) doesn't get how this pressure doesn't just come from parents, but peers,' Panfil said. 'It's very competitive,' Katz seconded. 'Especially around now,' said Horvath, 'when you see people committing to really good schools for college and it starts to make you think less of the schools you applied to.' When some of the film's characters are mocked for taking part in afterschool activities, the students shook their heads: none of them can think of a classmate who isn't involved in activities. And then the film's vice principal mentioned he makes $31,000 a year. Reader, there were actual gasps. Katz grabbed her phone and quickly researched education salaries in the 1980s: 'Yup!' she said, waving her iPhone screen that showed a medium $31,000 for assistant principals around 1980. About the movie's reliance on stereotypes — they see a smidge of truth. But, wisely, they see themselves as containing multitudes. Brown played football, now he's involved in theater: 'I see a little of all of these characters in me.' Katz recognized having a little Ringwald and some Anthony Michael Hall. Horvath said he's seen as 'the tall sports guy,' but his favorite activity has actually been youth government groups. 'It's hard to find just a jock anymore,' said DiCocco. Also, she said she doubts, as Sheedy, says, the heart dies when you become an adult: 'I think passions just change and you find joy in other things and the heart just becomes different then.' Horvath: 'I know I won't be able to play football my whole life. Lincoln, you might be able to get on stage and perform your whole life …' Brown: 'I could. But probably won't.' Horvath: 'Some things you can only experience in high school. Then, maybe, what she means is that part of your heart probably does die when you lose what you once loved to do.' Katz: 'But this idea of everyone trudging towards a miserable adulthood — at least now, we're encouraged to go for dreams. Drew, I remember you saying you wanted to be a very specific kind of doctor. A lot of us are not all that uncertain. We are …' 'Lucky,' Serlin said. As the movie ended, they sat in silence. 'Somebody should remake it,' Serlin said. She's studying film at New York University in the fall. 'But it would need five completely different new stereotypes to be accurate,' Panfil said. 'And more diversity,' Serlin said. 'And yet,' Horvath said, 'in that remake, in 2025, the Breakfast Club would all be silent and on their phones — the whole detention. They wouldn't talk to each other at all. OK, maybe they could do a group chat? But whatever it would look like, it wouldn't look like, what, like 40 years ago?'

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