"The title was from some graffiti we saw at Père Lachaise referring to World War One Vets." – Neil Hagerty on naming Veterans of Disorder.

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Drugs are obtained, utilized or even developed by society as they are required.

Adderall was invented so that children could negotiate the cybernetic consciousness, coalesce with the computers, and navigate the new technology. Without adderall one is confounded by the logic of the new machines.

Prozac is required for old people who are bombarded by changes which are traumatic, alienating and even terrifying.

Viagra is required by a business class so barren and psychologically deranged that a naturally occurring erection during a moment of human interaction is unfathomable.

A powerful drug in their own right, the group Royal Trux were designed by their manufacturers – Neil Hagerty and Jennifer Herrema – for reasons still not entirely understood. To pull rock 'n' roll music out of its morass in the 1990s? To destroy society as we know it? To dazzle and amaze?

The Velvet Underground is often cited as the group with an influence vastly larger than their record sales would indicate. They were said to have been the template for the next wave of  rock groups –particularly the ones who came out of the art schools– from glam to punk to new wave and beyond. At this point, one can't trace their influence because its permeated the culture. Royal Trux is that group for the 21st century. They laid the pavement for the groups that roared down the open road after them. They led the way from the messy nest of introverted shame noodlers and post-punk clunkers into outer space and cosmophonic comprehension. But, though legions followed the trail they blazed, no one has matched Royal Trux' commitment to perversity, their stylistic fecundity, and their merging of "avant-garde" skronk and noise with pop. And no one has been as confounding.  

When the Drag City Record Company re-issues Veterans of Disorder this month, it will have been thirteen years since the record was initially issued. It was a stunner when it came out, with its garish glossy green snakeskin cover. Coming at the end of a period of extraordinary, almost manic creativity, one could see VOD as possibly the most developed representation of Royal Trux' hyper varied approach. Whatever style they utilized, Royal Trux made it all sound natural, fresh, and cohesive; the believable expression of a single - if singular - band. At a time when it was more and more expected for a group to strictly adhere to a singular sullen sonic outpost, Royal Trux went everywhere; they had an ambition befitting another era altogether.

Like ELO or ABBA, they were making records to conquer the world. Apparently no one told them that the world had already been taken over by despotic forces which hated their fertile brand of boundless creativity, canny perversity, and total unwillingness to submit to idiotic orthodoxies of zombie-dom.

Veterans of Disorder presents an inspired summary travelogue through the duo's caustic brain-scape of euphoric dementia and surprising sonic cul-de-sacs, with 10 tunes that cover bases stylistically visited on previous albums. Veterans is mostly the work of Royal Trux duo Jennifer Herrema and Neil Hagerty working with drummer Kenny Nasta, but they're joined on a few tunes by drummers Chris Pyle and Jon Theodore (Golden, Mars Volta, etc), and by David Pajo (Slint, Papa M, Tortoise, Stereolab, etc) on the bass guitar.

Though there are lots of Royal Trux albums, Veterans might be their grand statement. A glove thrown down to the stylistic timidity of that era and this one. In advance of Drag City’s reissuing of Veterans on November 19, I interviewed Royal Trux members past and present about creating the 1999 record: Hagerty and Herrema, plus David Pajo (also of Papa M, Aerial M, Tortoise, Palace Brothers, Stereolab, Slint, et al) and Rian Murpy (Drag City Records’ head of sales; also of Palace, Dolomite, Plush, et al.) Here are some things they had to say.

DAVID PAJO

It was the Drag City event at CMJ (1997). The concept was that every DC band would play in one night, in alphabetical order. My solo thing was called Aerial M at the time, so I opened the show.

Every group had the same backing band: me on bass or guitar, Jim O Rourke on guitar or keys, Rian Murphy on drums, and David Grubbs on guitar. We learned about 3 songs per band so it was a boatload of songs to remember-- some of them being quite difficult. We did a pretty great job with the Trux songs, and they didn't even rehearse with us!

I remember getting some food with (Drag City label boss) Dan Koretzky and Jenny, and we hit it off.

I was always a fan, but unsure if I liked their NYC junky / shabby chic vibe. Like others in the punk scene, they flirted with the rock star / fashion world in a way that made us cautious and judgmental. But their early records were and are high-concept, experimental, provocative masterpieces-- that was undeniable.

And they were just so fucking COOL. The geeks, me included, were jealous.

But I've also been a delinquent my whole life, so I could relate with that side of them.

I'd played with them briefly when they produced the Palace Brothers single, "Come In" (1993 – more on this later).

Our worlds started to merge when I began releasing my solo material on Drag City. And mutual friends, Mike Fellows and Paul Oldham, were touring with them. The first Palace Brothers tour ever was going to be just me and Will, supporting Royal Trux. But I had to bail because I was getting married, so that never happened.

I had been playing in Stereolab and Tortoise but left Stereolab so I could stay in Chicago instead of London. Later, I left Tortoise because they wanted to tour for 8 months behind TNT and I wanted to move back to Louisville with my new girlfriend at the time. Then the offer to tour with Royal Trux came up and I was, of course, already a huge fan. I'm not good with years but I think this '97 or '98.

We toured Europe and North America, often to very small audiences.

Jon Theodore and I were the rhythm section, Neil and Jennifer, and sometimes Rian Murphy would tour with us singing backup vocals and playing tambourine.

For me, it was a return to the rock world. Straight up guitar rock that is fueled by the powerful, individual personalities of each band member.

Writing was cool, the songs came from jams and Neil is a powerhouse of ideas. His photographic memory was unsettling because he'd get upset if we didn't remember what we improvised 2 or 3 days ago, at a specific moment. But I never took offense because I was sympathetic to how frustrating the world must be to have a memory like that and the rest of the human population didn't.

The recording process was super cool. Nail the basic tracks and then overdub new ideas on every track. I mean, every single track has a new melodic element and sound. I'd mess around until I came up with something, then after Neil's approval, we'd track it. Maybe 30 seconds would be used, buried in the mix, but somehow he used everything.

The "Come In" sessions (Palace, 1993) with Will, Mike Fellows, Liam (Plush), Neil and Jennifer were so fucking cool. I distinctly remember Mike Fellows whispering to me, "You know Neil's a genius, right?" And I thought, "Whatever. You're confused. Junky does not equate genius."

By the time I went home that night, I knew both Neil and Jennifer were fucking genii.

He would tune his guitar for a long time, put electrical tape on the strings to mute them, then quickly detune everything and start recording / improvising. We carried in an actual heavy-ass Mellotron and re-calibrated every tape loop. I think Neil ended up playing the drums. Will and I looked at each other incredulously at one point; "I don't know how this is going to sound..." But then they mixed it and it was beautiful. Swampy, dreamy. They captured the mood of the song beyond what I could have imagined.

xnɹʇ ןɐʎoɹ ɥʇıʍ ssǝɔoɹd buıpɹoɔǝɹ puɐ buıʇıɹʍ (ɟ ¿pǝpuǝʇʇɐ ןןǝʍ sbıb ǝɥʇ ǝɹǝʍ (ǝ buıɹnoʇ (p ¿ǝɯıʇ ǝɥʇ ʇɐ ɥʇıʍ pǝʌןoʌuı noʎ ǝɹǝʍ sʇɔǝظoɹd ןɐɔısnɯ ɹǝɥʇo ʇɐɥʍ (ɔ xnɹʇ ןɐʎoɹ ɟo suoıssǝɹdɯı (q ¿xnɹʇ ןɐʎoɹ ɥʇıʍ buıʇǝǝɯ ʇsɹıɟ (ɐ :suoıʇsǝnb

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RIAN MURPHY

I have the role at Drag City of head of sales, first mate, second or third in command, and I've been selling records here for twenty years. I came on right after (Royal Trux) had gone to Virgin and I've been here ever since, through the period during which they came back and then also broke up.

I met them through Drag City after they had delivered a single and the double LP 'Twin Infinitives.' They came out to tour in the Midwest and when they arrived they announced to Dan that they were going to be making a movie; that the tour was merely facilitating the film. Myself and Dan and another early Drag City contributor named Gene Booth were going to be in the movie. That was in the winter months of 1990.

Then in the summer of 1991 Dan had gotten them some on some shows playing with Pavement out east in Charlottesville, Va, Philadelphia, Hoboken, maybe NY as well and they wanted a drummer … (Dan Koretzky) was like "I've got a drummer." The group I was playing in at the time a group called Mantis had just stopped playing together … so I went out there to play these shows.

I was playing with a group called Dolomite here in town. … I had just done a tour – with Palace Brothers – of the UK, and I had just done a recording session with Silver Jews and with Bill Callahan … and also Dolomite; so I was just bumming around. Also, Plush was just beginning at that time.

The term "unlimited collaboration" both describes and doesn't describe it, because what they wanted from you was everything, and then when they had grasped on it, then a severe editorial process emerged and they suited it exactly to their needs. But it was always impressive how much they were willing to take and then how clear the idea was of what they would do with it ...

They had a really terrific process and it was really inspiring to watch.

I felt like, we'd go to Seattle and the guys from Sub Pop and Mark Arm would show up and be really impressed and want to take us out to dinner … but not much else.

Since when they sent us the tape for 'Twin Infinitives' – from that point onward – receiving a new record for them was synonymous with a really fun and exciting evening. I remember well the first time I heard 'Twin Infinitives' and 'Cats and Dogs', both of which seemed to flip the script entirely and really rearrange the focus of the way Royal Trux was thought of and do it in a way that was just completely thrilling … and be the sort of thing you'd just sit there and laugh about. The fact that I had toured with them didn't completely deter me from that point of view.

I thought (on first hearing 'Veterans of Disorder') it was hilarious. As soon as I heard 'Waterpark' I was like "these guys are too much." That kind of reflected this '90s Americana of living out in the country in a really contemporary way. It was like a rural, landlocked anthem, hanging out at the fake beach. Then when the art came in, I had a real feeling like "These guys are still making major label albums … and giving them to us. The polish was just so (inaudible). It was like Steely Dan in the '70s – except the Trux music was much farther out/more punk inflected – but it was bringing this incredibly anti-social or sub-mainstream set of ideas forward in a very well packaged agreeable way so you could almost mistake it as something that everybody should have.

It represented a fairly unpopular stance for them to make those kind of songs in that environment. I think of groups at that time, the Grifters and Polvo, the whole idea was to twist everything into something angular, while Royal Trux were more inclined to pretend they were the Black Crowes or something … and to a lot of young people it must have seemed really uncool or something.

Side 2 they sort of returned to the aural madness (of their early records) and re-did it in a completely fresh way. 'Coming out Party' … its almost like as if there's something that holds it together harmonically in the mix that they've deleted so Jennifer's vocal is just hanging out there and everything's just changing underneath. And those words are so amazing.

They were a group that had a great deal of faith in subverting mainstream ideals, but I think that their musical arrangements were – well, clearly Royal Trux ideas were very formed by punk and all that, but – they were taking these ideas from the classic rock era and embodying them with all irony and all lack of irony simultaneously. If the idea, from the very earliest days, is that rock 'n' roll is some sort of reductive rebellion against the top 40 music and post swing sound, then they took it all the way to say "you're always rebelling in rock 'n' roll."

If I were to say "they're like Steely Dan", I would only mean it in the deepest way, not in a way that you could compare one surface to another.

At the end of the '90s when Veterans came out they had been this avant–garde band and then given it up to be an underground rock band which they had then given up to be a major label rock band which they had then turned around from and made 'Accelerator' which is a really irresistible record … so they had already eviscerated four audiences.

It is a real cornerstone for us – in terms of the vibe they created – and it is a really abiding influence, but they almost had this pheromone they emitted that makes them as offensive to one half of the people as they are appealing to the other.

It's really hard for people to think of punk as anything but this aggrieved expression of rage, and then you look at groups like the Velvet Monkeys and Flipper –who were an enormous influence on Royal Trux– and there's actually this incredible ambiguity there, and the music's not just this thing about "protest," or its not expressing protest as "protest", its mutating into something that's far more abstract than that … and they were able to say "I'll play Flipper/Grand Funk Railroad/Grateful Dead; all those things were in their palate.

They de-emphasize the personal aspects of their expression all the time but I have to wonder if its not sort of like Proust underneath it all, where the reference points are all very specific and personal but then any trail leading back to them is swept away … That's what makes those songs hit so hard, that they feel like they're meant … and that's something 'cos most people think "these people are just druggies who are posing"; there's posing in their songs but there's real investment.

Very surprised, and very pained by (Royal Trux breaking up) because it seemed like the perfect match … They complemented each other in ways that I'm still untangling.

dn buıʞɐǝɹq xnɹʇ ןɐʎoɹ oʇ uoıʇɔɐǝɹ (ʞ ɔısnɯ punoɹbɹǝpun uɐɔıɹǝɯɐ :ǝɹ uı xnɹʇ ןɐʎoɹ (ظ poıɹǝd sıɥʇ ɟo sbuos dod s,xnɹʇ ןɐʎoɹ (ı ¿ɹǝpɹosıp ɟo suɐɹǝʇǝʌ buıɹɐǝɥ uo sʇɥbnoɥʇ ɹnoʎ sɐʍ ʇɐɥʍ (b ¿xnɹʇ ןɐʎoɹ ɟo uoıssǝɹdɯı ןɐıʇıuı ɹnoʎ sɐʍ ʇɐɥʍ (ɟ ¿pǝpuǝʇʇɐ ןןǝʍ sbıb ǝɥʇ ǝɹǝʍ (ǝ xnɹʇ ןɐʎoɹ ɥʇıʍ buıpɹoɔǝɹ (p ¿sʇɔǝظoɹd ןɐɔısnɯ ɹǝɥʇo ɹnoʎ ǝɹǝʍ ʇɐɥʍ (ɔ xnɹʇ ןɐʎoɹ ɥʇıʍ buıʎɐןd puɐ buıʇǝǝɯ ʎןןɐıʇıuı (q ¿ʎʇıɔ bɐɹp ʇɐ ǝןoɹ ɹnoʎ (ɐ :suoıʇsǝnb

JENNIFER HERREMA

That definitely played a big part … Having our own studio – even though we didn't record all of Veterans there – just having our own gear; also, nothing else around … I think that played a big part in it.

Nothing else to do; We didn't have to work, we had money, we had a studio, and we were in the middle of nowhere.

It all kinds of runs together; we were there for 8 years and we made a bunch of records there so it feels like one big blob … Like early on – when you don't have any money – you have like 3 days in the studio, period. It was about putting ourselves back on the clock. Also, different gear. We didn't go back and redo songs. That was that. Other than "Accelerator" everything kind of just moved forward forward; with "Accelerator" it went forward, forward then went back. With "Accelerator" we went back and remixed the whole thing.

I just kind got into this whole e.q. kick. I guess I kind of picked it up off of David Briggs (Producer of Royal Trux "Thank You," Neil Young's "Tonights the Night," et al). I'd also been thinking about Spectrum analyzers … like if you put up some pop song and then had a spectrum analyzer like, analyze the pop song, the frequency ranges … depth and the highs and lows … would just be super thin; it would be just like radio. So 'Accelerator' wasn't like that but then we just plugged it into that brain. But 'Veterans of Disorder' doesn't sound like it should be on the radio, it sounds like it is on the radio …

I'm into the radio; pop influenced me like punk rock influenced me, blues ... all that kind of stuff. We weren't ever trying to be difficult or obtuse. But we also weren't trying to redo something that's already been done. 'Cos whats the use in that? We wanted people to be able to identify with it; like "pop."

"Waterpark," "Second Skin," and "Witch's Tit" came out of real experiences; I wrote them real quick, and that was that; Neil put the music to them quick and that was that. The other stuff I think Neil was messing around with different percussion but it's really hard to remember. We always wanted to bring a hint of something that we loved in; we liked so many different types of music. We never felt like we were, you know, a '70 Stones band, or that we were any of the things that people said … we just wanted to dive into all of it. We had steel drums, whatever. we were just listening to so many kinds of music and taking little bits of all of it. Just the things you love. That was kind of the MO.

And the lyrics are not all that fucking difficult. Some of them are a little …cryptic … but you can totally wrap your head around them. But no one wanted to talk about the lyrics; they only wanted to talk about the music: "how it seemed familiar but it wasn't."

I had no relationship to any of them (contemporary groups) except Britney Spears. I loved Britney Spears when she first came out; "Hit Me Baby One More Time" was super epic to me. Whenever I would leave the house like, to go to Culpeper, it was 40 minutes each way with just the radio; Blue Ridge mountain radio … it was the first time I heard a female vocal that sounded like T–Boz … and T–Boz was like a total idol. But honestly, I didn't listen listen to the other new groups, just radio and old stuff. Maybe Nickelback (laughs).

(Groups) are supposed to be selling part of their personality to the way they generate and display their creation .. If its not original, they're not being themselves; as far as I know we all have different fingerprints , we're all different … and if its not coming across as unique in some way or another then why bother?

I'm not concerned with (legacy) … I feel like we did a good thing and that's all thats necessary. If anybody's gonna be inspired by anything … I feel like we worked hard to make something original … I think we did a good thing. I guess we're not like a lot of other people.

At one point, people who really loved music would know but now … people don't know shit about music (laughter). They'll write for free or pay to write for blogs. Nobody's embarrassed anymore; I'd be mortified if I was talking to somebody, talking to them about their work but don't know anything about it.  

We could've taken any of those songs and put it through the pop formula of the day whatever that was or had some pop producer take it and let them create the record. That was do-able. We could have done that, but to me all that's just shit. Redundant and wasteful. I like pop music … but I don't think about pop music. And I'm not inspired by it.

I hadn't listened to the others for a long time and when I did listen to it I was really into it. Sometimes you listen to a live recording or something and its like "I could have dealt with that not being recorded."

All the photographs (on the inner sleeve) related to the different songs; the sunglasses with the sunscreen is "Waterpark" … there was one we did with Cindy Dall, with whipped cream and a cherry. They're all very didactic.

ǝʌǝǝןs ǝɥʇ (ظ ¿ɯnqןɐ xnɹʇ ǝʇıɹoʌɐɟ ɐ suɐɹǝʇǝʌ sı (ı ¿noʎ oʇ ʇuɐʇɹodɯı ʎɹoʇsıɥ ɹo ʎɔɐbǝן sı ؛uoıunǝɹ ɐ ǝʞıן sı ǝnsssıǝɹ ɐ (ɥ ¿op oʇ pǝsoddns dnoɹb ɐ sı ʇɐɥʍ (b sdnoɹb ʎɹɐɹodɯǝʇuoɔ ɟo ssǝuǝɹɐʍɐ ɹo uoıʇɐɹıdsuı (ɟ ¿pɹoɔǝɹ ǝɥʇ ɥbnoɹɥʇ buıuunɹ ʎɹoʇs ɐ ǝɹǝɥʇ sı (ǝ pɹoɔǝɹ ǝɥʇ ɟo punos (p ¿oıpnʇs ǝɯoɥ ɹnoʎ ʇɐ buıɥʇʎɹǝʌǝ pɹoɔǝɹ noʎ ʇ,upıp ʎɥʍ ˙pɹoɔǝɹ ǝɥʇ uo pǝsn suoıʇɐɔoן oıpnʇs ǝǝɹɥʇ ǝɹǝʍ ǝɹǝɥʇ (ɔ ¿uoıʇɐןosı ɹnoʎ ʇı sɐʍ (q ¿ǝɯıʇ sıɥʇ ʇɐ ʎʇıʌıʇɔnpoɹd ɹnoʎ oʇ ʎǝʞ ǝɥʇ sɐʍ ʇɐɥʍ (ɐ :suoıʇsǝnb

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NEIL HAGERTY

I just like to work so that is the main part but there was a sense of going against the typical narrative of a band's rise; once we got some money from the major label and then left that label I wanted to really keep on pushing forward rather than that being our peak.

It was conceived as a set of singles or EPs but then the packaging etc was conceived in a very ALBUM kind of way. As far as the recording, we changed things around with every record to try and influence the sound with things out of our control.

No story, just the way it is laid out is related to the way albums were made in the 70s when they were a major consumer product – like the 10th album by New Riders of the Purple Sage where they throw in horns and a little disco hi-hat. I am fundamentally grounded in that form.

Yes, I love the formal songwriting craft, I love that song "Skylark" for example, it's like a beautiful complicated watch. But that is just something that keeps me grounded to therefore able to go and do whatever else-- rather than focus on the overall impact that the band, sound or music will have, the image, I like to let that happen rather than having that be the goal or end result that I'm working towards.

I don't know, things come and go, people do whatever works for them at the moment, what gets attention – plus the 90s were pretty lame.

I was very aware of certain things, typically I'd look at a few bands and think "if we sort of follow them and try to get about as big as them we'll be ok." Even though I stopped watching MTV in 1991 or so I still looked at charts and radio etc. I looked at bands then like Limp Bizkit, Sonic Youth, Sleater-Kinney, Primal Scream, Trans Am, you guys etc just to see how they were connecting with people – and trying to sort of imitate and imagine a music that was in that same arena somewhat that would be tolerable to work with. I never really looked at Hip-Hop though, out of respect or something – if you look at the explosion of monumental HH from that era we are not really absorbing or reflecting that information.

I feel like you want to make something that is not exclusive, you present an abstract sound experience which is available to anyone for a few bucks. It is not to be intrusive, seductive, controlling, it is just a little disposable sound medicine that enriches you physically, spiritually-- but simultaneously the band should also be responsible for not trying to attract worshippers, creating obsessions or presenting absolutes. So originality comes into play because you have to imagine what the listener has already heard, what's new to them could be mistaken for your originality.

The isolation worked in two ways. It was good to get away after touring a lot plus after a few months in rural Virginia you wanted to get the fuck out and get back on tour. New York, I'm pretty sure I'd never leave. And during the time you were in the rural zone you had to stay busy or you'd lose your mind. It worked out ok for me but it eventually backfired and the band broke up.

So on this record the process was responsible for the sound. We had very specific ideas behind each song and then scattered everything around instead of just turning our home studio into the bunker. Like setting up a nice fussy painting on canvas and shooting it with a shotgun. And we had the idea of having a picture included to represent each song, to help literalize it. We'd been in Virginia for a little while then so we had discovered a couple studios in the vicinity, David Lowry had a great place down in Richmond, there was the place in Warrenton you and I worked at.

We did some basic tracks with the last live band we had, "Blue" is all that with Pajo and Theodore, probably some demos were made with them that we redid. Since we usually used the band to corrupt our song ideas we had to rely this time on spreading things around to the different studios. Chris Pyle is on some of Side One too, he'd just taken a trip around India etc so he had all these new instruments and drum techniques. I was able to do some of the drums and bass myself since we had a ProTools setup by this time and we could loop things.

Overall I think the band was about to fall apart, it wasn't much longer that we worked. We got that last group together, toured a bunch, did the final LP at the end of a tour in 3 days then that was the end. So the juggling process for Veterans was also part of trying to keep Trux alive and although that didn't work the LP turned out cool.

The title was from some graffiti we saw at Père Lachaise referring to World War One Vets.

All I can imagine that means is that the market or community requires that you be very specific now, other than that I don't know why you'd impose limitations on yourself. It could also mean that the targets from which to acquire sources for minstrelsy have gained such power that new targets need to be acquired so hillbillies, yacht aficionados and rural Mormons are now exotic.

Good points, yes I am happy about this, I am proud of this now that you mention it--because we toured a lot during the 90s and really had some good success, we were THERE, y'know-- but still it seems out of time. Nostalgia is not my favorite thing, I think it is the innocent beginning step toward fascism.

You know, I remember that green pattern was the cover of my lizard-skin sunglass case and it was high gloss so we kept that feel running thru everything.

Trying to remember, but I think that the main thing was one side of sharp tunes, 2nd side of  longer, more open things. Each song was based on some very specific idea, like "Waterpark" happened when Jennifer went to a waterpark and wrote down a few prosaic observations about that, "Second Skin" is like the Aerosmith pun mode where they transpose the meaning of a cliche phrase (ie, sick as a dog/cat got your tongue) and then "SickAzz Dog' is that same thing deconstructed. I know we changed things around to get us moving in a new direction but we did need that focus of each song being anchored to some concrete idea while we recorded it in a modular, disconnected way-- so I guess I did get inspiration by moving away from what we did on the record before.

Musically the records are not part of a complete system, each one was supposed to stand alone BUT if you did go back and forth from the first one you heard they could enrich each other in certain ways that would increase the enjoyment value of all of them. Things like recurring characters or tropes scattered around.

I feel like I like them all, but this one I like to think of as an overlooked record that is satisfying and not burdened with any significance.

¿pɹoɔǝɹ xnɹʇ ǝʇıɹoʌɐɟ ɐ suɐɹǝʇǝʌ sı (ɯ ʎɥdɐɹboɔsıp ǝɥʇ uı ǝɔɐןd suɐɹǝʇǝʌ (ן ubısǝp ɹǝʌoɔ (ʞ ɔıʇǝɥʇsǝɐ xnɹʇ ןɐʎoɹ (ظ ɔıɟıɔǝds ʎɹǝʌ buıɥʇǝɯos ǝʇɐʇıɯı oʇ pǝubısǝp ʎןןɐɔıdʎʇ ǝɹɐ spuɐq ʍou ˙ʎןןɐɔısnɯ ǝsɹǝʌıp ǝɹǝʍ xnɹʇ ןɐʎoɹ (ı ¿ʎʇıʌıʇɔnpoɹd ɹoɟ ʇuɐʇɹodɯı ɐıuıbɹıʌ ןɐɹnɹ uı buıʌıן ɟo uoıʇɐןosı ǝɥʇ sɐʍ (ɥ ¿op oʇ pǝsoddns dnoɹb ɐ sı ʇɐɥʍ (b ¿sdnoɹb ʎɹɐɹodɯǝʇuoɔ ɥʇıʍ uoıʇıʇǝdɯoɔ uı ɹo ɟo ǝɹɐʍɐ noʎ ǝɹǝɥʍ (ɟ ¿ʎɥʍ ˙ǝʌısɐʌɹǝd sı ʇı ʍou ؛punoɹbɹǝpun ǝɥʇ uı dod oʇ uoısɹǝʌɐ uɐ sɐʍ ǝɹǝɥʇ s06 ǝɥʇ uı (ǝ ¿buıʇıɹʍbuos /ʇɟɐɹɔ dod uı pǝʇsǝɹǝʇuı noʎ ǝɹɐ (p ¿pɹoɔǝɹ ǝɥʇ oʇ ǝʌıʇɐɹɹɐu ɹo ʎɹoʇs ɐ ǝɹǝɥʇ sı (ɔ ¿ɯnqןɐ uɐ sɐ pǝʌıǝɔuoɔ pɹoɔǝɹ ǝɥʇ sɐʍ (q ¿ǝɯıʇ sıɥʇ ʇɐ ʎʇıʌıʇɔnpoɹd ɹnoʎ oʇ ʎǝʞ ǝɥʇ sɐʍ ʇɐɥʍ (ɐ :suoıʇsǝnb