A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

The Ghost of Simon Snotface At The Newly Renovated York Theatre
Saturday, December 07, 2013




 
Friday night - Simon Snotface at the York circa 1978



The scene in George Pal’s 1960 The Time Machine where our time traveler (H. George Wells) sits in a marvelous Victorian contraption and travels into the future has always been imbedded in my brain. In the special effects of the time, the machine is surrounded by rapid flickering, an appearing and a disappearance of trees, mountains, building, and an orange glow that represents WWI. It would seem that those events occupied the same place in physical time.

I feel the same as I drive through downtown Vancouver and see Pier BC, as a ghost of my imagination when I glimpse at Canada Place. Whatever is at Davie and Richards is for me only the old offices of Vancouver Magazine. I feel much like Wells sitting on my machine and recognizing the place for what it was and not for what it is.

It was with all that circulating in my confused mind that I attended with my Rosemary the premiere of Charles  Demers’s  Jack & the Beanstalk: An East Van Panto (directed by Amiel Gladstone and with music by Veda Hille) at the newly renovated (saved is more like it!) York Theatre, on Commercial Drive this past Friday.

Firday night - Victoria Drive circa 1978


The event brought to mind another Friday night sometime around 1978 when I attended a punk concert at the York after having taken some pictures of inhabitants of the punk quarters, a row of houses at  the almost end of Victoria Drive, near East Hastings. Former occupants were Art Bergmann and John Armstrong, aka Buck Cherry of the Modernettes.

Of the York Theatre I have two memories that are indelible. One is of Art Bergmann sitting on the balcony of the York, his face in delight while listening to The Scissors on stage singing his favourite punk song, Wrecked My Car. The other one is of the Simon Snotface (with what looked like a used Tampax hanging from one of the buttons of his black leather jacket) in the lobby and standing by  the most horribly tacky wallpaper in Vancouver, the wallpaper of the York Theatre. It had a passing resemblance to the one of the Commodore Ballroom of the time.



Friday night - Victoria Drive circa 1978
I am happy to report that the lobby of the newly renovated York Theatre is not as tacky although while standing by the brilliant blue tiled walls I told Malcolm Parry, “I feel like turning around and having a piss. This wall resembles an airport bathroom.” Parry with a smile on his face (the room was a din of people) answered, “You think I can hear what you are saying but I can’t.” And I left it at that.

While I have known that C12-H22-O11 is the formula for sugar and that U.S. Grant’s horse was called Cincinnati, I had no knowledge of what a panto was. My head is full of useless facts surrounded by vacant holes of ignorance.

Furthermore I did not know that the Christmas pantomime was an English tradition in which a fairy tale was modified and that di rigueur the play would have a man dressed as a woman and sometimes a woman playing a man.

While I enjoyed all the goings on of the co-production by The Cultch & Theatre Replacement, my pleasure was increased only after I filled in the blanks of knowledge on what a panto really was. I finally “got it”.

Of the production three things stood out. One was that Allan Zinyk was so good as a woman that he could easily have sat on Wells’s time machine and gone back in time to the 70s to work in the original Hamburger Mary’s on Davie.

Two, Dawn Patten who can indeed carry a tune and even play an instrument as she proved in the 2011 Arts Club Theatre production of Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad , sang wonderfully (if painfully) out of tune while Veda Hille played her harp (for her) and the Cheese Song (I could not find it in the program) was perhaps one of the few songs I have ever heard in which almost no word (the name of a cheese) was ever repeated except for a few at the end.

Third, the presence of the Cultch Executive Director, Heather Redfern in a dress, very tight and very short, and stockings with little black points that tickled the edge of the dress where it attempted to hide, not too well, some nicely shaped thighs, shocked me, ever so nicely and my delight was increased when I found out that Redfern is credited for the costume design of the play.

Seeing Redferns's  two-woman cow, Dawn Petten and Patti Allan, is worth the price of admission for this hilarious play which should be more so if you brush up on that very English Christmas panto tradition.



Blood Makes Noise - Truth In Fiction
Friday, December 06, 2013










Consider the following:

1. Dr. Pedro Ara was the man who embalmed María Eva Duarte de Perón after she died July 26, 1952. There were persistent rumours that Dr. Ara also made a precise replica of Evita’s head in wax that was virtually indistinguishable from the real thing. Dr. Ara was known to carry to parties hatboxes containing perfectly preserved heads of not so notables. Dr. Ara advised the Russians on possible methods to preserve Lenin’s cadaver. Dr. Ara wrote a book El Caso de Eva Perón in which he reveals a few of his methods in 1974. The book is out of print but still available.

2. When Evita’s body was removed from its original holding space at the CGT (the very Peronist headquarters of the Secretariat of Labour where Evita had held court as the spiritual head of the nation) in 1955, flowers would mysteriously appear outside of whatever place her body was hidden by the military authorities who deposed Juan Domingo Perón in that year. The authorities did not want Evita;s body to serve as a rally for opposing forces to the military government.

3. Evita’s body was abruptly removed out of the CGT by Colonel Carlos Moori Koenig, Chief of Argentine Military Security. She was, carried around to many locations including a flower shop backroom. Moori was disobeying the order of his superior, the then president of Argentina, General Pedro Aramburu, by virtue of being the head of the military junta that had deposed Perón, to dig the body into a clandestine burial spot. Moori eventually took Evita to the house of his second in command, Mayor Eduardo Arandía. Arandía had a strange and overly protective relationship with the body of Evita which he kept in his attic hidden by papers. Sometimes he would show her off to dinner guests. One evening convinced that the Peronist resistance was outside his door to retrieve the body he unaccountably shot his pregnant wife to death. He eventually went mad.



Death mask at Museo Evita
4. Aramburu transferred the care of Evita’s body to Moori’s replacement Hector Cabanillas. With the help of the Catholic Church and an ambitious general, General Alejandro Lanusse, who admired Aramburu, the body disappeared. We know from later revelations that the body was buried in Italy under a nun’s name, María Maggi. We also know that when Evita died there was a movement that wanted her to be declared a saint. That most serious Pope, Pius XII declined to initiate proceedings.

5. In 1970 Montonero guerrillas kidnapped Aramburu and tortured him (until he died). If Aramburu knew where Evita’s body was he never revealed it. At that time grafitti appeared on Buenos Aires wall demanding the whereabouts of her body.

6. In 1974, Aramburu's body was stolen by Montoneros. The corpse was to be held until President Isabel Perón (Perón’s third wife) brought back Evita Perón's body.

7. In 1987 unknown persons broke into Juan Perón’s burial place and removed his hands with an electric saw. The hands were never recovered.

8. When Evita’s body was removed from Italy and taken to Perón’s headquarters in exile in Madrid, his wife Isabelita would comb Evita’s hair every day. Her body was put on a platform so that Perón’s dinner guests could gaze on her.

Of these events Argentine novelist, Tomás Eloy Martinez reveals in an interview in the Sunday, July 30, 1995 NY Times to correspondent Calvin Sims why he chose to make his book on Evita, Santa Evita, a novel:

Sims writes: Explaining his reason for telling his story in a novel, which was published this month and was at the top of the best seller’s list here, this week, Mr. Martínez said what he learned about the fight for Eva Perón’s body from the informants and from is own research was “so incredible, so unbelievable that it had to be written in the novel style.”

“The novel is the most effective way of telling the truth especially  about a person like Eva Perón, whose character has taken on mythical qualities in Argentina,” said Mr. Martínez, who is one of Argentina’s most prominent authors. While some names, places and events have been altered, the novel is a reconstruction of the truth, he said.

A few weeks ago I spotted Gregory Widen’s novel, Blood Makes Noise in the new novels section of the Main Branch of the Vancouver Public Library.

The novel is by a man, a native from Laguna Beach, California who is a former firefighter, NPR Station host, mountain rescue-team member and who also wrote the script for the Sean Connery film Highlander. In comparison to a dead general’s hand being cut off, it does not seem so strange that an American would write such a terrific novel about Evita. If anything I can assert here that Eloy Martínez is right. From this Laguna Beach author I have learned many things about my former country.

I often think of a little story told to me by my former spiritual mentor, Brother Edwin Reggio, C.S.C.. He said of a human swimmer encountering some intelligent fish. He tells the fish that they are surrounded by a colourless substance, that wets everything and that it is called water. The fish stare at our swimmer and say, “You are full of sh..”

Likewise, my politically polarized countrymen cannot see their reality because they are in it.

One telling paragraph that stopped me in my tracks:

“History is sometimes…difficult”
“Argentina loves a corpse.”

This nation has an unreal fixation with the remains of their famous. School children here were taught to dutifully recite the last words of national heroes, like San Martín, and celebrated not their birthdays but the day of their deaths. General Manuel de Rosas, a nineteenth-century strongman who died in England, had been buried for more than one hundred years, yet the government was today using all its wheat power to blackmail a hungry Europe into shipping his mouldy bones home. The dead have power everywhere, but nowhere, it seemed, did their bodies themselves speak more forcefully than in Argentina.

And this one:

[Hector Cabanillas, the Head of Argentine Military Security is one of the main protagonists in the novel tells his friend and fellow spook, an American CIA officer]

Hector smiled, “You think like an American, Michael. To Americans the power of myth rests in ideas and people. Here the power of myth rests in objects. They need not actually possess her body to stand before it and invoke her name as their name. It is not her works that electrify the crowds but Her. Reveal where she lies with such large-scale protection and there would be thousands of campesinos at the gate in an hour, and our enemies would have succeeded in the same as if they had run her up a flagpole. She would become their flag, something to rally opposition around the way ideas never can in this nation.”

“Burn her, then. Dump her in the river.”

“That’s an American solution, Michael. You see history as linear. Cause and effect. The evolution of events. But Argentina is a land where nothing happens. History here is an endless cycle, and one day the Señora will become the friend of the state, its flag. So we must keep her safe, away from politics.”

“On deposit.”

“In Argentina everyone is on deposit, Michael, Even the dead…”

Blood Makes Noise is a novel that follows the events of what happens to Evita’s remains in 1952 until she is brought back to Buenos Aires by Isabelita (now the Argentine president as her husband Perón had died of a heart attack). The novel further reveals the conflict between Hoover's FBI and the newish CIA for control of Latin America.

The accepted version that Evita’s body now rests in the Recoleta Cemetery, not far from Aramburu, is a current one. Widen’s version may not be the accepted one but for me it was the fitting end to a satisfying novel that no Argentine would ever write. It is a pity that the chances are awfully slim that the novel would be translated into Spanish.

When I finished  Blood Makes Noise, I re-read V.S. Naipaul’s The Return of Eva Perón which is an account of several visits by Naipaul to Argentina culminating with his last one in 1977. Naipaul’s description of Argentina in that year is not much different to the Argentina that I encountered this September and October. It is a sad fact that these Naipaul essays on Argentina have not been translated into Spanish.


September 2013
Wherever I went I was reminded of Evita. She was on peso bills, there is a Museo Evita and countless books have been written (mostly non-fiction) of her period and her husband’s in Argentina. When I purchased and read the just out La Furia de Evita, a novel in first-person autobiography form by distinguished wrier Marcos Aguinis, my one very Peronist friend Nora Patrich told me that I could not believe anything I would read in the novel, after all it was a novel. I kept quiet, feeling very much like that swimmer talking to fish.



La Mujer U Hombre Araña
Thursday, December 05, 2013



Puig, December 1, 2013


 Some people might know that the author of the book The Kiss of the Spider Woman (El Beso de la Mujer Araña) was written by Manuel Puig who was an Argentine author. It is most likely that I was distantly related to the man as his Catalan surname Puig (pronounced pooch) was the same as that of by Barcelona great-great grandmother, Vicenta Puig de Galvez, and her daughter, Buenaventura a virtuoso pianist in Manila who died in 1915. 


Centre Vicenta Puig de Galvez -1888


Buenaventura’s favourite was my mother Filomena who had long but very thin hair. Buenaventura would comb and brush her hair and my mother would cry. Buenaventura would tell her, “It is painful to be a lady and you must learn this now.”




The relevance to this slim connection has to do with a recent arachnid inhabitant on the inside window of my front door. I call him (her?) Puig. He (she) appeared a few days before Halloween. I thought that this spider was awfully dumb. His (her) associates in the garden were all doing just fine with a fine menu of insects that would otherwise be feasting on my roses’ spent flowers.

I have observed Puig now for some time. He (she) rarely moves. His (her) associates are all gone with the recent cold spells. But Puig on his (her) reduced indoor diet is doing fine. Perhaps I might have to find something for him (her) so we can share our traditional Christmas Eve dinner. I will wish him (her) well and hope that he (she) might just help us uncork the Champagne for the new year.


I could stop here and any good magazine editor would agree. But I can digress because as some say, magazine space is limited but the internet is infinite.

I have often wondered why the beautiful word for spider in Spanish araña (so close to the Latin name arachnid) has a verb arañar which means to scratch. Do spiders scratch? In Spanish and in any language the most adept entities that scratch are cats, or perhaps my youngest granddaughter Lauren when she practices her violin. A big cat scratch is the fearsome arañaso!

So I finally looked it up and the verb form arañar comes from the Latin arar and labrar which mean to work or to plow. To furrow a land is perhaps close to what a cat may do to your face.





Personalized Nonsense
Wednesday, December 04, 2013






In a recent survey, 99.9% of those reached responded that the clinically proven medicated ingredients of La Purga de San Benito ameliorated their cravings for Wiener Schnitzel. These folks were willing to send personalized affidavits to that effect.

I invented the above paragraph. La Purga de San Benito is a Spanish expression for a cure-all miracle drug that does not exist. The other word that has a definite meaning is affidavit. But I have never accepted the meaning behind medicated as it means nothing. A medicated substance is not a medicine. I have often wondered why the 99.9% pure ivory soap that floats is not 99.8 or 100% pure. Why is it that those recent surveys never tell you when it occurred or where and by whom? And what is clinically proven?

And yet as my wife Rosemary and I try to avoid the ads between listening to Rachel Maddow on MSNBC we are sent a barrage of those terms that have no meaning. I end up clinically depressed.

To the nonsense words above I want to add another one. The word is personalized.

In this scan of the title page of my first edition of William Gibson’s Neuromancer I guess I can write:

1. It is personalized.
2. It is autographed.
3. It is dedicated.
4. It is signed.

It cannot be autographed as that in most cases means that you go up to your idol and produce his or her book and say, “Will you sign it for me?

It cannot be because Gibson gave me the book, I did not buy it.

Can it be personalized? If I write my name on the book to signal that I am the owner is it personalized?

Can it be dedicated? Perhaps, but exactly what does that mean? I took my personal copy of Peter Beales’s Classic Roses a few years (before he died) when he came to Vancouver and asked him to dedicate it to my granddaughter Rebecca who was not there.

If my Neuromancer is signed what can you say of all that extra stuff? You can routinely go to a big box bookstore and find a shelf full of already signed novels by famous authors.

I would like to point out that my first edition Neuromancer is worth more than $1000 but that it would be worth more if it had not been “written upon” by the author to that unknown person that I am. And had I not opened the book at all, it would have been then be worth even more. An unread book can be priceless to the buyer and the seller.

But what of the reader?



New York Interior
Tuesday, December 03, 2013





For years I have been an admirer of the paintings of American Edward Hopper. I have been attracted to Hopper’s subtle (but perhaps not) portrayal of our personal isolation (perhaps alienation is a better word). Today I took this photograph of my friend Bronwen Marsden for a project in which she is a woman out of a Raymond Chandler novel. But when I saw the picture I knew I had an image that would go hand in hand with my favourite Hopper, New York Interior.


Edward Hopper, New York Interior, c. 1921. Oil on canvas, 24 1/4 × 29 1/4 in. (61.6 × 74.3 cm). Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; Josephine N. Hopper Bequest  70.1200  On view
© Heirs of Josephine N. Hopper, licensed by the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York



Pantera tigris 'Canuckus' & Ursus arctos
Monday, December 02, 2013







I photographed Vancouver Canucks player Tiger Williams in his home in 1994 for Equity Magazine. The art director, Chris Dahl liked the photograph so much that he put the b+w version on the cover. I never bothered to do anything with the colour transparency until I saw my friend, Ian Bateson’s artwork of a bear skull he photographed on a recent trip to Alaska. This is a work where he starts with the photographic image which he then works on with an iPad application made famous by David Hockney called Procreate. I decided to combine Bateson’s image with mine. I like it lots.



A Ballerina, The Répétiteur & Snow White
Sunday, December 01, 2013








Saturday Rosemary and I went to Granville Island’s Arts Umbrella for an open house on our granddaughter Lauren’s ballet and modern dance classes.

No matter how many times, through the years that I have gone to this sort of thing (we went for Rebecca’s classes until she lost interest) I always leave with the certainty that there is no better dance school in Vancouver than the Arts Umbrella Dance Program run by Artemis Gordon.

A few people understand that many of the graduates of the program have gone to some of the best ballet companies around the world, not to mention our very own Ballet BC. In fact Ballet BC has an impressively long bench of stars that I liken to a bench that runs the span from Granville and Davie (where the Vancouver Dance Centre is located) all the way to Granville Island.

I particularly enjoyed today’s classes because of the program’s répétiteur, Robert, who jazzed up (most skillfully) Christmas carols or simply played beautiful jazz standards to accompany the dancers. Lauren’s ballet instructor, Margaret Reader-Martin teaches with an accurate and insisting style that she softens with most personal corrections. Lauren’s modern dance teacher, London-born Claudia Segovia, gives her students lots of room to create and innovate their own ideas. I find that these two teachers become a fine balance of discipline with a let-loose policy that gives the dancers lots of confidence.


Of particular note for me is the efficient performance of my very own Fuji X-E1 digital camera which seems to take lovely window portraits with a soft texture that I am warming up to.

Our afternoon after the dance was an afternoon at the main branch of the Vancouver Public Library. We went home with a pile of Film DVDs and books.

After a dinner of barbecued vegetables and flank steak with little potatoes baked in the oven with Parmesan cheese and olive oil we retired to the den and watched Blancanieves which is a 2012 Spanish black-and-white silent fantasy drama film written and directed by Pablo Berger.  Since this circa 1920s Snow White protagonist becomes a bull fighter (of the female kind) it gave me the opportunity to explain to Lauren that bullfighting is not a sport but an art form similar to ballet. The bullfighter (who most often kills the bull and the bull most often does not reciprocate) has to be graceful in the path of danger. How he (or she) twirls the cape or the muleta (a squarish cape held in place by a sword) is poetry in motion even though Spaniards and most that are fans of the art know that the bull does not have a chance.

Lauren did not question my explanation even though I suspect she might in a few years. In Mexico City as a teenager and a young man I often went to the bullfights and saw some of the best. I have no idea how I would react to one now.



 The film was enjoyable. I took a happy mother and daughter home (the other daughter now works on Saturday evenings).

Looking back at the day I can consider it a success. But I will have to come up with a very good encore for next Saturday’s after dinner film.



     

Previous Posts
Open Letter to the Honourable David Eby, Premier o...

Bach - Buxtehude & Infinity

My Rosemary's Two Faces

Arthur Erickson - My Rosemary & Felix Candela's Hy...

The Musicality of Seeing - Tiko Kerr

My Early Easter Lillies - Rosemary Would Have Smiled

The Fly Enters an Open Mouth

Three Baroque Musicians, One Donkey & a Duke (me)

Bless My Two Daughters & My Two Cats, Too

Rosemary's Corsican Hellebore & Napoleon



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11/1/09 - 11/8/09

11/8/09 - 11/15/09

11/15/09 - 11/22/09

11/22/09 - 11/29/09

11/29/09 - 12/6/09

12/6/09 - 12/13/09

12/13/09 - 12/20/09

12/20/09 - 12/27/09

12/27/09 - 1/3/10

1/3/10 - 1/10/10

1/10/10 - 1/17/10

1/17/10 - 1/24/10

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9/26/10 - 10/3/10

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10/24/10 - 10/31/10

10/31/10 - 11/7/10

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11/21/10 - 11/28/10

11/28/10 - 12/5/10

12/5/10 - 12/12/10

12/12/10 - 12/19/10

12/19/10 - 12/26/10

12/26/10 - 1/2/11

1/2/11 - 1/9/11

1/9/11 - 1/16/11

1/16/11 - 1/23/11

1/23/11 - 1/30/11

1/30/11 - 2/6/11

2/6/11 - 2/13/11

2/13/11 - 2/20/11

2/20/11 - 2/27/11

2/27/11 - 3/6/11

3/6/11 - 3/13/11

3/13/11 - 3/20/11

3/20/11 - 3/27/11

3/27/11 - 4/3/11

4/3/11 - 4/10/11

4/10/11 - 4/17/11

4/17/11 - 4/24/11

4/24/11 - 5/1/11

5/1/11 - 5/8/11

5/8/11 - 5/15/11

5/15/11 - 5/22/11

5/22/11 - 5/29/11

5/29/11 - 6/5/11

6/5/11 - 6/12/11

6/12/11 - 6/19/11

6/19/11 - 6/26/11

6/26/11 - 7/3/11

7/3/11 - 7/10/11

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7/17/11 - 7/24/11

7/24/11 - 7/31/11

7/31/11 - 8/7/11

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8/21/11 - 8/28/11

8/28/11 - 9/4/11

9/4/11 - 9/11/11

9/11/11 - 9/18/11

9/18/11 - 9/25/11

9/25/11 - 10/2/11

10/2/11 - 10/9/11

10/9/11 - 10/16/11

10/16/11 - 10/23/11

10/23/11 - 10/30/11

10/30/11 - 11/6/11

11/6/11 - 11/13/11

11/13/11 - 11/20/11

11/20/11 - 11/27/11

11/27/11 - 12/4/11

12/4/11 - 12/11/11

12/11/11 - 12/18/11

12/18/11 - 12/25/11

12/25/11 - 1/1/12

1/1/12 - 1/8/12

1/8/12 - 1/15/12

1/15/12 - 1/22/12

1/22/12 - 1/29/12

1/29/12 - 2/5/12

2/5/12 - 2/12/12

2/12/12 - 2/19/12

2/19/12 - 2/26/12

2/26/12 - 3/4/12

3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

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4/29/12 - 5/6/12

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5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

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10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

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11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

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4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

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5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

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6/23/13 - 6/30/13

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7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

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8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

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10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

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3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

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4/20/14 - 4/27/14

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5/25/14 - 6/1/14

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11/16/14 - 11/23/14

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11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

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3/22/15 - 3/29/15

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9/20/15 - 9/27/15

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10/25/15 - 11/1/15

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11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

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12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

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2/21/16 - 2/28/16

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3/20/16 - 3/27/16

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4/24/16 - 5/1/16

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5/22/16 - 5/29/16

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12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

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12/31/17 - 1/7/18

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1/21/18 - 1/28/18

1/28/18 - 2/4/18

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12/30/18 - 1/6/19

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1/20/19 - 1/27/19

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1/9/22 - 1/16/22

1/16/22 - 1/23/22

1/23/22 - 1/30/22

1/30/22 - 2/6/22

2/6/22 - 2/13/22

2/13/22 - 2/20/22

2/20/22 - 2/27/22

2/27/22 - 3/6/22

3/6/22 - 3/13/22

3/13/22 - 3/20/22

3/20/22 - 3/27/22

3/27/22 - 4/3/22

4/3/22 - 4/10/22

4/10/22 - 4/17/22

4/17/22 - 4/24/22

4/24/22 - 5/1/22

5/1/22 - 5/8/22

5/8/22 - 5/15/22

5/15/22 - 5/22/22

5/22/22 - 5/29/22

5/29/22 - 6/5/22

6/26/22 - 7/3/22

7/3/22 - 7/10/22

7/10/22 - 7/17/22

7/17/22 - 7/24/22

7/24/22 - 7/31/22

7/31/22 - 8/7/22

8/7/22 - 8/14/22

8/14/22 - 8/21/22

8/21/22 - 8/28/22

8/28/22 - 9/4/22

9/4/22 - 9/11/22

9/11/22 - 9/18/22

9/18/22 - 9/25/22

9/25/22 - 10/2/22

10/2/22 - 10/9/22

10/9/22 - 10/16/22

10/16/22 - 10/23/22

10/23/22 - 10/30/22

10/30/22 - 11/6/22

11/6/22 - 11/13/22

11/13/22 - 11/20/22

11/20/22 - 11/27/22

11/27/22 - 12/4/22

12/4/22 - 12/11/22

12/18/22 - 12/25/22

12/25/22 - 1/1/23

1/1/23 - 1/8/23

1/15/23 - 1/22/23

1/22/23 - 1/29/23

1/29/23 - 2/5/23

2/5/23 - 2/12/23

2/12/23 - 2/19/23

2/19/23 - 2/26/23

2/26/23 - 3/5/23

3/5/23 - 3/12/23

3/12/23 - 3/19/23

3/19/23 - 3/26/23

3/26/23 - 4/2/23

4/2/23 - 4/9/23

4/9/23 - 4/16/23

4/16/23 - 4/23/23

4/23/23 - 4/30/23

4/30/23 - 5/7/23

5/7/23 - 5/14/23

5/14/23 - 5/21/23

5/21/23 - 5/28/23

5/28/23 - 6/4/23

6/4/23 - 6/11/23

6/11/23 - 6/18/23

6/18/23 - 6/25/23

6/25/23 - 7/2/23

7/2/23 - 7/9/23

7/9/23 - 7/16/23

7/16/23 - 7/23/23

7/23/23 - 7/30/23

7/30/23 - 8/6/23

8/6/23 - 8/13/23

8/13/23 - 8/20/23

8/20/23 - 8/27/23

8/27/23 - 9/3/23

9/3/23 - 9/10/23

9/10/23 - 9/17/23

9/17/23 - 9/24/23

9/24/23 - 10/1/23

10/1/23 - 10/8/23

10/8/23 - 10/15/23

10/22/23 - 10/29/23

10/29/23 - 11/5/23

11/5/23 - 11/12/23

11/12/23 - 11/19/23

11/19/23 - 11/26/23

11/26/23 - 12/3/23

12/3/23 - 12/10/23

12/10/23 - 12/17/23

12/17/23 - 12/24/23

12/24/23 - 12/31/23

12/31/23 - 1/7/24

1/7/24 - 1/14/24

1/14/24 - 1/21/24

1/21/24 - 1/28/24

1/28/24 - 2/4/24

2/4/24 - 2/11/24

2/11/24 - 2/18/24

2/18/24 - 2/25/24

2/25/24 - 3/3/24

3/3/24 - 3/10/24

3/10/24 - 3/17/24

3/17/24 - 3/24/24