Mark Allen

Confused? Probably not.

(note: found this image on a random Google image search and can find no information about it).

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Here is a picture of me hitchhiking naked on Avenue A in Manhattan in 1991. Some friends and I came up with the idea, and shot it right outside the Pyramid Club on a Saturday afternoon. I remember it was a clear day. We huddled inside the club, wrapped a sheet around me, lifted the security gate of the club and ran out, I threw the sheet off and stood there – he snapped the shot. One take. Not bad for chaos! The photo was taken by our friend Merritt. The only reaction I remember was some little kids across the street screaming “Yeaaauuuu-eeek!!!��? otherwise people just looked or drove by with wide eyes and blank faces. But this was downtown NYC after all, a long time ago. The East Village was very, very different back then – it was kind of like the American wild west. At that specific time, the Pyramid Club was known mostly for a Wednesday night psychedelic drag theater night called “Channel 69,��? thrown by pioneering My Comrade publisher Linda Simpson. The club is amazingly still standing (and so is Linda). This photo was used for some NYC flyers, and even made into some giant posters for a Canadian event, which I have a roll of in my attic.

The picture was done before Madonna’s Sex book came out, which had this photo in it. Not that the same image hadn’t probably appeared decades earlier in countless Swedish porn magazines, or Tom of Finland illustrations, admittedly. I mean, a naked person hitchhiking? It’s like deciding to paint a bowl of fruit. I thought the background in this shot seemed really dull, until I realized the background in the Madonna’s was just as bland.

The boots I was wearing belonged to DJ Craig Spencer (sigh…), who weirdly actually ended up in Madonna’s Sex book, on page 33, helping Tony Ward rape Madonna in a school gymnasium, and then licking his ear.

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In a similar vein, I was recently contacted by some old friends from Act Up, letting me know about their recent 20th anniversary demonstration in Times Square. I couldn’t make it, but I saw some photos from the event. It was somewhat sparsely attended, but they must have anticipated that fact, in organizing a street demonstration – which seemed to be one small component of a larger strategy. This is the age where PR-soaked media/internet-tangled prankery grabs every spotlight. Larry Kramer’s gritty speech the night before was rather interesting. Usually I can’t get to the end of one of Kramer’s write-ups without my face contorting into a moldy, winced grapefruit (to protect my eyes?)… but I actually found this text by him to be very moving, and would recommend reading it to anyone.

It was nice to see some old friends in the recent Act Up demo photos. It prompted me to rummage through my rolodex of photos, and dig up this one below, which was snapped by Scott Morgan at Act Up’s successful 1991 Kennebunkport action, which was not sparsely attended. The quaint little town was a second home to George Bush Sr., and on that particular weekend (while he and family was there) it was, quite literally, invaded by Act Up groups from all over the world – to protest his administration’s inaction against the world-wide epidemic at the time. Days later, Bush had to address the protest, and subsequent questions, during a nationally broadcast press conference. This photo was taken where the final march ended, a police blockade at the end of the long gated driveway leading to his home. It’s me, in front of a line of authority figures, making a funny face.

These types of photos, in the later part of the 20th Century, are all mock-ups of this iconic series of 60’s protest pictures, which have found eternal life in being done to death. Now it seems you can’t turn sideways without bumping into pictures of this sort, on people’s websites and things – like one of a girl flashing her boobs at a camera while a line of cops stand in a line behind her unaware, or a pic of some kid with his pants down mooning the front of a corporate headquarters building while flipping the camera the bird. The impact of this type of imagery has long-ago been smothered by the sincerest form of flattery, and mutated into reckonable commodity – which is probably why you still see it so much. So, again… here’s me in front of some cops, in 1991, mocking what they stand for with a goofy face and a thumb out pointing at them like I don’t care about them. I’m sure the world has never been the same since.

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Speaking of cigarettes hanging out of mouths as a tired-but-true photo prop device in pictures that are copies of other pictures, there are these two pictures (definitely not copies) of me in 1993, by the excellent shutter guy Hans Fahrmeyer, story here:

These were were copied, intentionally, a few years ago by Tony, who has a blog over at LargeTony.com:

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A friend of mine has a relative who is a missionary in Eastern Europe. He recently shared photographs and the story of a man he is caring for, who has an extremely bizarre skin condition. The man has keratin-like matter growing out of the skin on hands and feet, which started when he was young, and very slowly continues to spread and grow. The areas begin as skin lesions, and the matter sprouts from those spots. The growths are very difficult to remove, and the man has so far just had to learn to live with it. There are a few medical precedents to this man’s case, but nothing is certain until more tests are done. In the meantime, the missionary is helping to make life easier for the man. Scroll down for more photos. He writes:

“I found this man, and other than his hands and feet, he looked and seemed in good health. As best as I could gather these growths began when he was 14 years old, and began in the area of his wrists. The skin on his wrists and the back of his hands resembles that of a hedgehog – hundreds of spike like growths. The problem is much more severe on his palms and fingers where the growths resemble very much that of nails infected with a fungus. The growths have that same texture, smell and feel. I cut a number of the largest growths off, most of witch did not bleed. Some of the smaller growths did bleed a small amount and he seemed much more sensitive to the cutting of the smaller growths. I soaked his hands first in 3 WEA (phenyl mercuric nitrate) and then began. The 3 WEA did help to soften the growths but they still took time to cut through, or sand down, but it worked just as it does with these types of nails on normal hands or feet. I was able to pull many of the smaller growths off applying steady pressure and slowly pulling. But after 1.5 hrs there was not a noticeable change as there are hundreds and hundreds of growths. There was also quite a bit of dissolved material in the bucket of 3 WEA after we finished.

On his feet I did not cut anything, but tried two different solutions of salicylic acid, one a bit weaker than the other, and also a freeze spray wart remover.

I met his mother and brother (they all live together) and their skin looked very normal. They all eat the same foods and he and his brother sleep in the same bed.

It has grown slowly but steadily but has not spread to other parts of his body, just a bit below his knees on his legs. He has other skin growth (many would be skin tags) on his face, and some moles on his chest. The growths are not as bad on his feet but I was told that more than 10 years ago many we cauterized off his feet, and they did not return. I think with repeated soaking and cutting most could be removed but other parts will I think need to be burned away in some form.”

I emailed the missionary a few more questions:

Is there a medical term for this man’s condition?
Doctors here have called it Lewandowsky-Lutz, though I have not been able to find any pictures of this condition to compare.

Has any analysis of the matter growing off of his skin been done?
There was 18 years ago, when they came up with the name of what they thought it was. He has not been treated since then.

When do you understand that this started with him?
He is now 38 and it started when he was 14, on one wrist. He never returned for treatments as he felt the first cauterizing was effective in that the growths did not return to that area, but felt they grew more quickly in other areas.

Does the man have any other unusual symptoms?
He appears healthy other than the growths. He has 15 skin tags on his face, and a wart in one ear.

Have there been any theories about this man’s past, something he might have done, ingested, or places he’s been to… that may have caused it?
As he says he did not do or eat anything his brother did not do or eat, and his brother appears to be perfectly normal, not yet. I am currently showing the pictures to veterinarians, as I am also considering that maybe this is something he got from an animal (pig, sheep, cow).

Does it look like the man’s condition is treatable or curable?
Curable, I don’t know. But with ongoing thorough cleaning, creams, soaking and cutting – it will be much better for him.

More photos (click for larger view):

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Cruising through life unassisted by the velvety trappings of normalcy can be a double-edged silver spoon. This is Prince Albert Victor Christian Edward, Duke of Clarence and Avondale (1864-1892). As my crazy old friend Robert used to say “Whadda Dandy!!!â€? The man obviously could not tolerate a bad photograph of himself. Of course this was back in the day when people had to stand real still and googly-eyed like in photos, so the lengthy exposure could capture them – and no doubt Prince Eddy relished the opportunity. In the 19th century, Prince Albert Victor was the oldest son of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales (later King Edward VII) and was second in line to be king, but the crown instead went to his younger brother, Prince George (King George V), who is the grandfather of the Queen we know today.

The bigger story is that Prince Eddy was like a giant, decorated ferry ship, floating in full view down the bluest of blue blood rivers and… on the occasion when he started to sink, lets just say that most of those in The Family didn’t exactly rush to save him. He was considered a weak link, and was systematically passed over for the crown, obviously. As a youth, Prince Eddy apparently developed a reputation in his studies (under royal tutelage) as being slow-witted, even retarded. However, deeply researched books written about his life recently claim he was anything but – reportedly he expressed the kind of imaginative and intuitive smarts that didn’t run along the grooves of the family tree’s roadmap, and that his critics were interested in drawing the contrast to fertilize the future throneage of his brother.

Several attempts to meld Prince Eddy with a royal bride went (surprise!) nowhere.

In 1889, he was involved in the (then Uber-shocking) Cleveland Street scandal, the raid of a gay male brothel in London, which caught several prominent aristocrats in it’s sweep, and greenlighted a progression of sinister cover-ups. The infamous event brought the homosexual underworld into the horizon of the public’s attention. The extent of Prince Eddy’s involvement is still unclear, but it’s certain he was fingered to steal attention away from other public figures who were involved, and had everything to loose.

All the while Prince Eddy continued to parade around the regal zone in a waxed mustache, canes, gloves, fur head wraps, jackets dripping with baubles, shoes that looked like Faberge eggs with chandeliers attached to them, and a face that 1970’s gay porn star Al Parker would have died for. Visually, he was a genius.

Today’s common male genital piercing, the “prince albert,� is (according to most records) named after him.

Eventually, his harshest critics went from trying to portray him as a moronic lush, to claiming he was simply insane.

Even after his death, he possessed the power to draw pointing fingers like a magnet. During the 1960’s it was theorized that he had been none other than the real Jack The Ripper. Serious Ripper-studies dismiss the idea of his involvement as rediculous, though to this day he remains on “the list.�

He died in 1892 of pneumonia while traveling. Though those that didn’t like him will tell you he expired in a mental hospital, howling stark raving mad. His tomb, located at Windsor Castle (and designed by Alfred Gilbert) is considered one of the best examples of Art Nouveau sculpture in Britain.

Go here for some galleries of pictures of Prince Eddy.

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Stupefyingly thorough, four-page article listing and describing the careers of every black person ever in punk and “new waveâ€? bands covering 1976 – 1983. If you were into that sort of thing back then, you probably think you were pretty right about the slim percentage, but trust me after reading this you’ll realize you never knew. A fascinating read.

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But whay is that is si sisna is the id and prince edward theone in the brothel scandel thatb was really jack the ripper and he was a man of impeccible style. Yea and after I tuk yur fashun adviceabout the moldrobor duran dwraun hat I put a leg on your leg and you were like looking at me and talked about the vampires int he winsow and wer erote to the mall to play cvideo games anfd the hat was there and wr vsited that guy and I said fid you evert ear a whle bottle of asprin? rop ddead [[[][][][][] [[[[REDEACCTRTRTEED!!!! ME TOO I CNA DO IT TOOO!!!!! goop who’si a gfreat cook in tribecvaw with as tellar art cAareer. Oh yae and where;s my Moo Hoo Danny? and the andrean anacshak and it lkooks lie, h guy in the vending machin is like the marjhc cklnreogijsdoi yea and it’s all just a shiner’s parade after all and the walking at queens in the am night with the dayglo wig and a snow cone is thrown at you diod you work it into the look withjustyos mom and like the plastic buvvles int he ahir like the night at palladium and youtook therre hits od sexctsy andf were theopwing up inther bathrtoom oh fiun I locked my ketys in my car and the first date Iw as there what was up oh yea hi. Kill-kill kill krulll kill them all

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For those of you still browsing amongst the hellish kaleidoscope of brand new Annanecromania, here’s a hidden rhinestone. Upon hearing news of Anna’s death, I suddenly and fondly remembered a story I read eight years ago, titled HUNGRY GIRL: The Potted Plant Lady’s Strange Tale of Sex, Money, and Feeding Anna Nicole Smith. The four-page piece was written by Randall Patterson, and was created by, in, and for Vickie Lynn Hogan’s own home state, as published in The Dallas Observer back in 1999. Exquisitely trashy, the journalistic excavation centers on one Sandy Powledge (pictured, right), and her claims that she is (one of) the lesbian lovers that Anna Nicole Smith left in the dust on her way to becoming an inevitable American icon. The muff-mucking news is hardly breaking, but the write-up is a little-known, fun read. Keep in mind that this was “Anna 1999,” and portrays the pre-reality show, but the post-Guess?, post-Playboy, post-Naked Gun 33 and 1/3 (but pre-Skyscraper), and also post-zillionare husband’s funeral Anna. This was a limbo period in her fame, right around the time her biggest exposure was as fodder for “you won’t believe how fat she is now” surveillance video footage on A Current Affair. An exemplary Texas tale from beginning to (unforeseeable) end …and I’ve never wanted a Colossus Burger more in my life.

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This site.

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Found: super, super-rare deleted scene from John Waters’ Female Trouble (1974). The out-take (in black and white here) occurs the night before the fatalistic Christmas morning scene at Dawn’s childhood home. For someone like me who is as (absurdly… and still) obsessed with this film as I am to have never seen it anywhere (not even on any of the deluxe version DVDs), I know that some of you probably haven’t either. And frankly, if you don’t have this whole film memorized already, well, I really just, uh… don’t want to know you. Enjoy!

(thanks to Jim for the tip)

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The definition of a Couch Fort (aka: a ‘Blanket Fort’).

A mother’s story of her children’s Couch Fort construction.

Another parent’s tale.

A backyard Couch Fort.

The Onion spoofs Couch Cushion fort abuse.

Some sort of Couch Fort society.

Some kind of cat girl in Couch Fort.

A laughing girl in a Blanket Fort (and from her perspective).

The Blanket Fort as gallery art.

This looks kind of fun in it’s own right, but is no substitute for the real thing.

A fake history of Couch Forts.

Why not go to Fort Couch School?

Mp3 clip from The Simpsons where Homer says “All I’m gonna use this bed for is sleeping, eating, and maybe building a little fort…� (scroll down).

Stop-motion(ish) video of a guy building a Blanket Fort for his cats in his apartment.

Nice video of some kids in a Blanket Fort.

Short video diary of two girls in a Blanket Fort.

Some Fort Couch Drama (and pt. 2).

How to make a “Couch Fort Air-Conditioner Coffin� (more a hot weather thing).

Please don’t use all the seat cushions on a plane to make a on-board airplane Couch Fort fort, because if the plane crashes in water passengers may need them for a floatation device.

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[NOTE: read the latest on the criminal case here]

Letter quoted verbatim:

December 2006

Dear Ms. Ono,

As you know, I have loyally served you in many capacities as your driver, bodyguard, assistant, butler, nurse, handyman and more so your lover and confidant over the last ten years. During the course of these years, our relationship has also deepened into a very emotional and physical one as well.

Unfortunately, as you know, your mood swings and dependencies have drastically eroded our relationship, and led to a continual stream of abusive statements and treatment from you. Ranging from personal insults to demanding acts of great sacrifice by me, your systematic and continuous physical and psychological abuse has caused me to become a different person, stripped from any kind of dignity and self respect.

Your constant demands on my time, for both your and your family’s professional and personal needs have greatly and perhaps irrevocably hurt my relationship with my spouse and children. My wife has now left me because of the relationship between you and me. This is solely due to your excessive demands on my time, demanding my companionship for over 15 hours daily, seven days a week for the last six years. My life has been connected to yours to a point where basic chores and activities such as taking my wife to the doctor’s office or having an engagement party for my son had to wait for months on end for you to leave the country so that I could attend the needs of my family.

Additionally, our relationship both in the public eye and private has caused a significant degree of defamation to my character. People, including your own son and daughter have voiced their opinions regarding our relationship. Every day I endure countless demeaning looks and comments from people at work, on the street and most painfully at home. This continues and will continue to cause indescribable pain for me and more importantly my family.

Under all these circumstances, I decided to contact my lawyer in order to put an end to this string of events. After discussions, we decided to pursue a “quid pro quo” sexual harassment suit against you. There is more than enough documented instances in which you harassed me in this manner and I’ve been advised that the case will be more than easy to file and prove. The case will not only involve you and I, but will also include Sean, Kyoko, Bijoux, Jan Wenner, Michiko Meyers, Sam Havatoy, Dakota residents, Paul and countless others as they will be forced to testify about things that will shock the world. I will make sure that upon filing of the suit, the NY media (members of which I have gotten to know very well over the years) will be all over it and we will all read the details on page six and other tabloid magazines for quite a while.

Such a trial, regardless of if I win or lose, will provide me with a significant amount of publicity that I will use to promote a number of books that will portray You, Sean and John. These books will be written using information obtained from ten years of listening to you as well as pictures taken with hidden cameras and literally thousands of hours of recordings I have been compiling since 1996. Within these tapes, there are recordings such as the ones below that will quite frankly, astound the world.

– Sean, while speaking to his girlfriend Carmella, calling John “a wife beating a——“;

– Your political statements against the British and US Governments;

– Your numerous critical comments about your son, daughter, the Beatles, and your friends (such as Jan Wenner, J. Onasis Kenedy, Elliot Mintz, Brian Hendel, John Hendrics, Michiko Meyers and many more);

– The story of you getting raped during WW II in a Japanese farm and the effects of this act on your relationships with men including John;

– Your numerous fights with Sam Havatoy …

Depending on the outcome of our dealings, I will not only write about these recordings but will also distribute them to European Broadcasting Stations throughout the future. You and your legal advisors may think that I am bound by the confidentiality agreement. Be informed that I am moving back to Turkey permanently and will publish my book in Turkey and will distribute the prints through the internet where I have already secured e-commerce capabilities.

All of the above mentioned items will in fact become a reality unless you compensate me and my family for all of the pain and suffering you have caused. If you want all of these pictures, recordings, emails, conversations and memories to vanish from the face of the earth and never hear from me again, all you have to do is send me a certified cashiers check from a New York Bank for a total amount of $2 million.

Thank you very much,
Koral Karsan

(Read the latest on the case here).

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Behold the “proof certified” trademark showcasing style and genius business acumen of Ebay seller Shop4uby4me (aka: ‘Successfuleb Businessman’) – a modeling extraordinaire… a marketing demigod! Is he from Texas? Why of course (Tyler, Texas to be specific)! Interested in a skirt? What about some ties? How about a Mu mu with “…the feel of nylon, the comfort of Christmas?” 60’s vintage Mod Op Art? A Mexican ensemble? Scroll down on each auction page and witness his endless make-love-to-the-camera-red-hot-photo-sessions, just past the exquisetly comprehensible prose about each item (the real treat). Our friend Brian dubbed him “…the lost sibling of Gerard Malanga and George Wendt.” When I first saw his auction pages, he was actually selling handmade paper doll kits (of himself), but that particular auction appears to be over. Enter “Successfuleb Businessman’s” whole world of wonders here.

(thanks to Robin for the tip)

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An article from the January 13, 1884 edition of New York World and New Jersey Daily recounts in fascinating detail an elaborate stay-over dinner party thrown at the Newark, N.J. home of the renowned inventor William J. Hammer. Mr. Hammer (a friend and associate of Thomas Edison), titled the mind-boggling evening “Electrical Diablerie,” and made his home itself the primary source of entertainment, fitting it with a complex array of automated electrical devices and futuristic doodads, all of it resembling something out of Terry Gilliam’s film Brazil. The concept pre-dated the 1940’s/50’s “automated home” phenomenon by more than a half century. An excerpt:

“When the guests arrived and entered the gate, the house appeared dark, but as they placed foot upon the lower step of the veranda a row of tiny electric lights over the door blazed out, and the number of the house appeared in bright relief. The next step taken rang the front door bell automatically, the third threw open the door, and at the same time made a connection which lit the gas in the hall by electricity. Upon entering the house the visitor was invited to divest himself of his coat and hat, and by placing his foot upon an odd little foot-rest near the door, and pressing a pear-shaped pendant hanging from the wall by a silken cord, revolving brushes attached to an electric motor brushed the mud and snow from his shoes and polished them by electricity. As he was about to let go of the switch or button, a contact in it connected with a shocking coil, caused him to drop it like a hot potato.”

Read the entire article here.

(thanks to the awesome Rich Hazleton for the tip)

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Yep.

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The controversial Pentecostal strain of “Holy Laughter� or “Spiritual Drunkenness� involves becoming so possessed with the power of the Holy Spirit that one yelps in uncontrollable fits of spastic laughter and guffaws, acts animatedly intoxicated, falls all over fellow congregationers, and moos (literally). Sometimes the effects are so great that it is considered dangerous for the person to drive home from church afterwards. The extroverted practice is disavowed by most in the church, for reasons that aren’t too hard to figure out. The late Texan pastor Kenneth Hagin and others are seen in this must-see video clip at a 1997 conference, contagiously spreading the word of “obnoxious God ha-ha’s.� This six-minute video is very baffling; a fascinating study in the effect of crowd social signifiers, “mob mentality� (and the fake smile/laugh) on top of everything else. Many, many more highly enjoyable video clips of such stuff can be found on this anti-Holy Laughter site.

(thanks to Ken for the tip)

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“Insanity, and the death wish, lurked deep in his murky, twisted mind.�
– The Houston Chronicle September 16th, 1959

On the morning of September 15th, 1959, a mysterious man entered Poe Elementary School in Houston, Texas with his seven year-old son saying they had just moved into town and he wanted to enroll him. The school’s principle met the man and his son in her office, and began the process of enrollment. During the interview, the principle became suspicious that the man didn’t have any identification, and didn’t seem to know the name of the school his son was previously enrolled in, the name of the town or street where they previously lived, or where they actually lived now… he only seemed to know that they came from New Mexico, and that he worked in the tile industry. As his behavior and speech became more and more erratic, she became alarmed and thought it would be best if he was off the school grounds. She told him that since he didn’t have the proper identification papers for his son, he would have to return another time with them. She watched him as he and his son left the building. On his way out, he approached one of the teachers who was bringing a class of students into the building from recess. He handed her two hand-written notes (quoted verbatim below) and instructed her to gather as many children around him as possible in a circle, and began talking about the “…will of God.” The penmanship on the notes was so bad that she couldn’t make out what they said. She noticed that he was carrying a cloth-covered suitcase which he began slowly shaking (and referred to as ‘the power of God in a suitcase’), and his son was carrying a large paper bag with a doorbell-style button attached to wires hanging out of the bottom. She instructed all of her students to go inside the building as more faculty members, including two other teachers, the custodian and the principal, joined her in trying to order him off school grounds. The two largest groups of students who had been outside were ushered into the building, along with the original teacher that the man had given the notes to. In the ensuing awkward scuffle, the man began waving the suitcase around and saying that he had to “…follow the children.” Suddenly and without warning, both containers were detonated, causing a massive explosion that blew a six inch-deep crater in the asphalt playground where they had been standing. The blast killed one teacher, the custodian, two seven year-old male students, the man and his son. Over the next few days, a bedlam of law enforcement, investigators, media, mourners and gawkers descended upon Houston. Later that week, the man’s right arm was discovered on the roof of a two story building across the street from the school. Although it was not the first school disaster on record (the New London School gas explosion in New London, Texas, 1937 was), it was the first intentional school “terrorist” attack in U.S. history. A detailed account of the event, as well as what subsequent investigations uncovered, can be found here (scroll down a bit), as well as here.

Please do not get excite over this order I’m giving you. In this suitcase you see in my hand is fill to the top with high explosive. I mean high high. Please believe me when I say I have 2 more (illegible) that are set to go off at two times. I do not believe I can kill and not kill what is around me, an I mean my son will go. Do as I say an no one will get hurt. Please.
P. H. Orgeron
Do not get the Police department yet, I’ll tell you when.—

Please do not get excite over this order I’m giving you. In this suitcase you see in my hand it fill to the top with high explosive. Please do not make me push this button that all I have to do. And also have two 2 more cases (illegible) high explosive that are set to go off at a certain time at three different places so it will more harm to kill me, so do as I say and no one will get hurt. An I would like to talk about god while waiting for my wife.

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Texan artist Bill Thomas created a great series of fake self immolation photographs (in the 1990’s), which are documented in an online gallery here (you can click each image for a slightly larger version). Here is his statement.

Thomas, at the age of five, witnessed the famous (but rarely talked about) madman bomber explosion at Poe Elementary School in Houston, Texas – which occurred on September 15th, 1959. He credits the lingering lifelong turmoil caused by the unresolved memory of that event as the inspiration for these screwy, nightmare-y documents. Of course, when it comes to offing himself, Thomas has nothing but style, style, style. And why not?

If you’re going to choose the final solution, why not do it Rube Goldberg-like? Has “suicide as a performance piece” become a lost (undiscovered? under-used?) art form? Ending-it-all while hidden away in some apartment or in the woods just seems so cold. Going out in some sort of elaborate, un-ignorable scheme involving lots of props, planning and stagey-ness is (ironically) less self-centered. Why not allow your death to be that little extra spice that makes life extra nice for everyone else? It’s like hugging the world one last time and saying “Thanks anyway…” before you dump it forever.

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