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246 pgs.
Another edit finished, another magazine tossed into the recycling bin. And yet the pile of mags waiting to be scanned never gets any smaller. Indeed, just when you think you're making progress clearing out the mags cluttering your home by the box-load, you "accidentally" buy some more. In your head, you know what you're doing is abhorrently wrong, but just like this duck, your body has a mind of its own and your finger clicks the "buy it now" button before your brain has a chance to stop it. You hang your head in shame. This is the scanner's own private hell.
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