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Abstract

Early in September in this year of quadrennial madness, I had written to Dr. H.K. Wombat at his retreat in the Alpujarras in Spain for his prediction of the outcome of the Reagan-Mondale contest. Weeks elapsed without an answer, and I supposed that the worthy marsupial had either gone walkabout or was again engaged in the matters of international intrigue which had taken him to Spain in the first place.

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