Return-Path: Delivered-To: diana@transocean.com Received: from vps.transocean.com by vps.transocean.com (Dovecot) with LMTP id Ue4TDab1WlgxeQAAInt2oQ for ; Wed, 21 Dec 2016 13:35:34 -0800 Return-path: Envelope-to: diana@transocean.com Delivery-date: Wed, 21 Dec 2016 13:35:34 -0800 Received: from [185.88.174.249] (port=43043 helo=truanting.othreeu.top) by vps.transocean.com with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cJoXp-00084e-KV for diana@transocean.com; Wed, 21 Dec 2016 13:35:34 -0800 DKIM-Signature: v=1; a=rsa-sha256; c=relaxed/relaxed; s=dkim; d=othreeu.top; h=Date:To:From:Reply-to:Subject:Message-ID:MIME-Version:Content-Type; i=santasshop@othreeu.top; bh=DvjJ4FGpsvlWYaq5FeUQNDuMtBKpZ3E56jyGnNzKlGU=; b=QNDxwMP9swICFZwnW03RA1Y1Fj7e3agAq7g5NNmlwXy8ckLq7dtJ3EHotfYMVjR3pe95AoI6kXCm f2vPWWW/PQK/7QefY/wqdnGZWkxG1WoNnRATb2rDSwj5Yeke1jFCFHHlQTbl0O3ULAF6YGwQfuUl lMHcH6ppmq7oiTC44fs= DomainKey-Signature: a=rsa-sha1; c=nofws; q=dns; s=dkim; d=othreeu.top; b=8mLdK0JJSYEodxzrFYhEfIjbgwlS0xXIkQ3DMLF2TPO02kByZDfXi+wnrHSsbUjJnOVZAEUwrgcK EuPh9/TFEXl8PmNA0Ykcp6ecwnZe95zbLopOocyXFtcESxk/Wwog4wOxNBDvRdqArTEbT6QZV0cb yUWcevp0E0bgnG+5RRE=; Date: Wed, 21 Dec 2016 16:35:03 -0500 To: diana@transocean.com From: Santa's Shop Reply-to: Santa's Shop Subject: Make Christmas Magical for a Special Child! Message-ID: <24b9e85de7ab8aca3cf9ae99c0897487@t.othreeu.top> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/alternative; boundary="b1_24b9e85de7ab8aca3cf9ae99c0897487" X-Spam-Status: No, score=3.7 X-Spam-Score: 37 X-Spam-Bar: +++ X-Ham-Report: Spam detection software, running on the system "vps.transocean.com", has NOT identified this incoming email as spam. The original message has been attached to this so you can view it or label similar future email. If you have any questions, see root\@localhost for details. Content preview: If not able see ad below due to no images? Click here. His tone made me suspicious. “Of course you’ll be there yourself.” “Well, I’ll certainly try. What I called up about is ——” “Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “How about saying you’ll [...] Content analysis details: (3.7 points, 5.0 required) pts rule name description ---- ---------------------- -------------------------------------------------- 0.0 URIBL_BLOCKED ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE: The query to URIBL was blocked. See http://wiki.apache.org/spamassassin/DnsBlocklists#dnsbl-block for more information. [URIs: othreeu.top] 1.3 RCVD_IN_RP_RNBL RBL: Relay in RNBL, https://senderscore.org/blacklistlookup/ [185.88.174.249 listed in bl.score.senderscore.com] 0.0 HTML_MESSAGE BODY: HTML included in message -0.5 BAYES_05 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 1 to 5% [score: 0.0184] 0.1 DKIM_SIGNED Message has a DKIM or DK signature, not necessarily valid 0.8 CPANEL_LOTS_OF_EMPTY_LINE RAW: Spam that has large block of empty lines 2.0 RDNS_NONE Delivered to internal network by a host with no rDNS 0.0 T_DKIM_INVALID DKIM-Signature header exists but is not valid 0.0 T_REMOTE_IMAGE Message contains an external image X-Spam-Flag: NO --b1_24b9e85de7ab8aca3cf9ae99c0897487 Content-Type: text/plain; charset = "iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit If not able see ad below due to no images? Click here. His tone made me suspicious. “Of course you’ll be there yourself.” “Well, I’ll certainly try. What I called up about is ——” “Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “How about saying you’ll come?” “Well, the fact is — the truthof the matter is that I’m staying with some people up here in Greenwich, and they rather expect me to be with them to-morrow. In fact,there’s a sort of picnic or something. Of course I’ll do my very best to get away.” i hid an unrestrained “huh!” and he must have heard me, for he went on nervously: “What I called up about was a pair of shoes I left there. I wonder if it’d be too much trouble to have the butler send them on. You see, they’re tennis shoes, and I’m sort of helpless without them. My address is care of B. F. ——” I didn’t hear the rest of the name, because I hung up the receiver. After that I felt a certain shame for Gatsby — one gentleman to whom I telephoned implied that he had got what he deserved. However, that was my fault, for he was one of those who used to sneer most bitterly at Gatsby on the courage of Gatsby’s liquor, and I should have known better than to call him. The morning of the funeral I went up to New York to see Meyer Wolfsheim; I couldn’t seem to reach him any other way. The door that I pushed open, on the advice of an elevator boy, was marked “The Swastika Holding Company, ” and at first there didn’t seem to be any one inside. But when I’d shouted “hello” several times in vain, an argument broke out behind a partition, and presently a lovely Jewess appeared at an interior door and scrutinized me with black hostile eyes. “Nobody’s in, ” she said. “Mr. Wolfsheim’s gone to Chicago.” The first part of this was obviously untrue, for someone had begun to whistle “The Rosary,” tunelessly, inside. “Please say that Mr. Carraway wants to see him. ” “I can’t get him back from Chicago, can I?” At this moment a voice, unmistakably Wolfsheim’s, called “Stella!” from the other side of the door.“Leave your name on the desk, ” she said quickly. “I’ll give it to him when he gets back.” “But I know he’s there.” She took a step toward me and began to slide her hands indignantly up and down her hips. “You young men think you can force your way in here any time,” she scolded. “We’re getting sickantired of it. When I say he’s in Chicago, he’s in Chicago.” I mentioned Gatsby. “Oh — h!” She looked at me over again. “Will you just — What was your name?” She vanished. In a moment Meyer Wolfsheim stood solemnly in the doorway, holding out both hands. He drew me into his office, remarking in a reverent voice that it was a sad time for all of us, and offered me a cigar. “My memory goes back to whenI first met him, ” he said. “A young major just out of the army and covered over with medals he got in the war. He was so hard up he had to keep on wearing his uniform because he couldn’t buy some regular clothes. First time I saw him was when he come into Winebrenner’s poolroom at . --b1_24b9e85de7ab8aca3cf9ae99c0897487 Content-Type: text/html; charset = "iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit

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His tone made me suspicious. “Of course you’ll be there yourself.” “Well, I’ll certainly try. What I called up about is ——” “Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “How about saying you’ll


come?” “Well, the fact is — the truthof the matter is that I’m staying with some people up here in Greenwich, and they rather expect me to be with



them to-morrow. In fact,there’s a sort of picnic or something. Of course I’ll do my very best to get away.” i hid an unrestrained “huh!” and he must have



heard me, for he went on nervously: “What I called up about was a pair of shoes I left there. I wonder if it’d be too much trouble to have the butler send them on. You see, they’re


tennis shoes, and I’m sort of helpless without them. My address is care of B. F. ——” I didn’t hear the rest of the name, because I hung up the


receiver. After that I felt a certain shame for Gatsby — one gentleman to whom I telephoned implied that he had got what he deserved. However, that


was my fault, for he was one of those who used to sneer most bitterly at Gatsby on the courage of Gatsby’s liquor, and I should have known better than to call him.



The morning of the funeral I went up to New York to see Meyer Wolfsheim; I couldn’t seem to reach him any other way. The door that I pushed open,

on the advice of an elevator boy, was marked “The Swastika Holding Company, ” and at first there didn’t seem to be any one inside. But when I’d shouted “hello” several times in



vain, an argument broke out behind a partition, and presently a lovely Jewess appeared at an interior door and scrutinized me with black hostile eyes.


“Nobody’s in, ” she said. “Mr. Wolfsheim’s gone to Chicago.” The first part of this was obviously untrue, for someone had begun to whistle “The




Rosary,” tunelessly, inside. “Please say that Mr. Carraway wants to see him. ” “I can’t get him back from Chicago, can I?”





At this moment a voice, unmistakably Wolfsheim’s, called “Stella!” from the other side of the door.“Leave your name on the desk, ” she said quickly. “I’ll




give it to him when he gets back.” “But I know he’s there.” She took a step toward me and began to slide her hands indignantly up and down her hips.


“You young men think you can force your way in here any time,” she scolded. “We’re getting sickantired of it. When I say he’s in Chicago,



he’s in Chicago.” I mentioned Gatsby. “Oh — h!” She looked at me over again. “Will you just — What was your name?” She vanished. In a moment Meyer Wolfsheim stood solemnly


in the doorway, holding out both hands. He drew me into his office, remarking in a reverent voice that it was a sad time for all of us, and offered me a cigar.



“My memory goes back to whenI first met him, ” he said. “A young major just out of the army and covered over with medals he got in the war. He


was so hard up he had to keep on wearing his uniform because he couldn’t buy some regular clothes. First time I saw him was when he come into Winebrenner’s poolroom at .

--b1_24b9e85de7ab8aca3cf9ae99c0897487--